Fighting to Stay (Fighting Madly Book 2)

by Ziegler, S. L.

  So here we are in Atlanta, his base, in his gym to finish off the last-minute things, and to say I did a happy dance that we didn’t have to go anywhere, may have happened.

  More than once.

  More than twice.

  “Hell, yes.” A smile lights up his face, and to think he wanted to give all this up because of me.

  Laura bursts through the gym, breaking up our training season. Her phone and Reed’s in one hand, a clipboard in the other, no doubt filled with a to-do list of a thousand things, ready to tackle every pre-fight thing that has to be done on time. “Okay, love birds, enough of the foreplay. Hadley, I put your clothes in your locker, and Reed, I did the same for you. Both of you’ve got thirty minutes till we have to leave for weigh-ins.”

  Reed chugs his water as he leans against the chains, not a care in the world as if his fight isn’t tomorrow. A smile is still planted on his face. “She’s a bossy one.”

  “And she’s right here. Let’s get this show on the road, and by the way, Reed, don’t even think about going in the girls’ locker room right now, either. No time for your strange hanky-panky shit you guys normally do after you get nasty.”

  My back is up against the cold wall to prevent the clumsiness from my nerves, and not to cause a distraction to anyone.

  Reed included.

  I’m doing my best to stay out of the way, and the only thing I can do to not cause a problem is stand here and observe the organized chaos surrounding me as Kenny and his crew get Reed geared up for tonight. Conversations fill the air, talks of takedowns, holds, flips, but none of those words spoken come from Reed’s mouth. None are my Reed’s deep, confident voice. He’s deadly silent, swallowing every bit of last-minute advice he can from those around him, those team members that know what this win means to him. He’s ready, alert, and chomping at the bit to get in the cage and pound it. And tonight, for the first time in my lifetime, I will be right next to him, without exception for every hit, kick, and chokehold given tonight. I will be there.

  The crew splits in the middle as Reed moves toward me. He takes his red hat out of my hand and places it on his head and only offers a small glance my way as he pulls his gray hood over the hat. Not a smile, no words from him and nothing back from me.

  His monster came out, guns blazing, when he heard at the last moment that they’d changed the bill and put Speedy down as his opponent. We pulled up to weigh-ins, still joking, laughing about the training session, where we found Jamie Black waiting for us. It was right before Reed stepped on the stage for weigh-ins, Jamie all too happy to drop the bomb on Reed. You could see it in Jamie’s eyes. It was his own version of payback for when Reed left him high and dry. And if I was a betting woman, Jamie had it planned for it to play out like that from the word go.

  Of course, Reed could have challenged it without any real backlash. We all think he should have, but he wouldn’t. Everyone knew it. Reed walked up on that stage and Riker came back. He’s stubborn like that. Riker is ready.

  Willing.

  Able.

  To take on anyone, especially someone like Speedy. Reed’s redemption. Me on the other hand, I’m not so sure. Speedy said things to Reed the last time they met that even Reed won’t speak a word of. He keeps the conversation to himself, but apparently it was awful. And with me next to him tonight, that could possibly hurt him more than help him. But when I attempted to bring it up last night, Reed shot it down before the whole thought was even out of my mouth. His mind was made up, he wanted me here, distraction be damned. I meant more than the belt.

  Gus presses a hand to my back, urging me through the hallway. The only light is what’s coming from the arena, and with each step we move closer, the sounds of chanting drown out my own inner turmoil. My breath hitches as we hit the point of no return. The announcer speaks but I’m on edge. I draw quick breaths in, yet it does nothing to stop the pacing of my heart. Ten minutes and counting. My mind goes to worst-case scenarios and I’m a nervous wreck that something will happen, something I can’t stop, something that could change everything. Reed isn’t smart when he’s in this state of mind before a fight. I’m tense and timid because I’m not in the stands, I’m not hidden like so many times before when I was only watching as an onlooker. But now I am right next to him, center to the cage as a part of the Collins team. I may not be a viable part, I may not know the things to help him win, but I’m a part of it. I’m with him.

  The cheers become deafening as Reed’s name is announced. The waves in my stomach roll, causing my nausea to rise to my throat. My mouth is so dry, if I didn’t know better, I could swear I haven’t had a sip of anything to drink for weeks. I peek at everyone else and either they should win an award for acting, or they aren’t nervous about the match between Reed and Speedy.

  A group of security guards circle around us as we walk down the aisle to the cage. Reed first, Lance and Kenny trailing behind him. Laura and Gus force me forward near the end of the line. Then Reed steps to the stairs, his arms out wide as they check him one more time before he steps through the chains. Away from us.

  I move to the side, arm in arm with Laura. My Riker enters the cage. His muscles cut with each move he makes, his tattoos are vivid under the spotlights and the force he’s bringing surrounds him like an impregnable bubble. Riker has one sight, one prize, and his only purpose is to shut Speedy down. For good.

  Speedy’s right in the center of the mat, his emotion the opposite of Riker’s. He’s relaxed and calm as he stands there stretching his arms against his chest, not one care in the world. He turns to me and the corners of his mouth turn up. He winks at me and puckers his lips. Speedy’s gloating at the devil on Reed’s shoulder and he doesn’t care. He wants it. But for what, I don’t know.

  Reed’s nostrils move with each angry breath he gives, and his wrists clench with the need to pummel him. Lance says something in his ear, and all Riker does to acknowledge he hears it is to offer a slight nod with his teeth bared and ready to chomp on him.

  I eye all the exits. The desire to flee is here, but Reed’s presence calls me to stay. Where I’m at, here in this seat, my thoughts to flee are no more. A touch on my back grabs my attention, but I choose to ignore it. I want to watch every single thing unfold in front of me, not give any time away from where my heart is at. But after another touch a mere second later, I can’t ignore it any further. I turn my head slightly, only offering my ear. The person wants to talk, fine, but that’s all the attention they are getting from me.

  Gus’s deep voice fills my ears. “Don’t you leave this seat. That dipshit wants it done, and if you do leave, he wins.”

  I don’t say anything, because bolting isn’t an option and I’m locked center cage on Riker ignoring Speedy’s glove hit before the start bell rings. Reed just gave the ultimate dis in this world. Respect is earned, and you either have it with Reed or you don’t. No middle ground, and Speedy might as well be dead in Reed’s brain.

  With three taps on Reed’s chest, the fight starts. Speedy’s feet work as he dances around, deflecting Reed’s attempted hits and kicks. Reed brings his left leg up ready to try to strike again, but Speedy is too fast and surprises Reed with an uppercut to his chin. After that, the connection of each hit he delivers rings in my ears. Speedy doesn’t falter—hit, kick, hit, and kick. Blood gushes from Reed’s face as he falls to the mat, and Speedy still doesn’t slow as he hovers over him, landing all over Reed. I wince, and all those scenarios seem to play out, those worst-case things I thought were my brain playing tricks on me. Wrong, it’s playing out right in front of my eyes. My feet stick to the floor like glue is on the bottoms of my soles, but my hands raise and my fingers itch to do something.

  Anything for Reed.

  Something to help.

  Lance and Kenny are on the chains, screaming so loud, each of their voices crack for Reed to fight back, to put his hands up, something, but nothing is registering to Reed. Speedy bends down to Reed’s ear. Something is said to Reed and h
e flashes a mysterious, blazing gaze my way, his hazel eyes already almost swollen shut. But whatever Speedy said burns through Reed, lights him up. He pulls his legs up, gripping Speedy’s back, and uses it as leverage to twist him around. Reed’s arm locks around Speedy’s neck, and he draws his legs up, tightening the hold on him, his thighs squeezing him for dear life. Reed’s right arm hits Speedy’s side, and his face pales due to the lack of oxygen to his brain.

  My feet become unglued and I spring up right next to Lance. My fists bang on the cage and the screams are out of my throat before I can stop them. And with a tap of the mat, Speedy gives up.

  The last time they fought, Reed had to be ripped off of Speedy’s body but this time Reed’s arms and legs drop off, releasing him, and all he does is stand up.

  He rips out his mouthpiece and Reed spits out the blood. It lands next to Speedy’s head. Reed opens his mouth, and even with the mass hysteria, I can hear his words as clear as day. “From now on, that is the only thing you are going to be tapping, motherfucker.”

  With not a second look to the body on the mat, Reed struts down the stairs and ignores everyone else. He lands dead square in front of me. His face is still covered in blood, his lips already bruised. Ugly red marks start to form on his chest and his poor eyes are only slits.

  “I almost got my ass kicked.” Reed’s teeth are red from all the blood.

  “I see that. Glad you didn’t.”

  “You and me both, babe.” He opens his hand and offers it to me. My left hand slides into his. My ring catches the light. Reed spots it, and the only one that shows is the one represented by Reed and Riker both. He leans down, almost places a kiss on it, but instead, he shakes his head and only one corner of his mouth turns up.

  “Smart choice. I didn’t want to clean pieces of your DNA out of all those diamonds.”

  “Shut it. Now let me escort your ass up there with me, get my fucking belt, and get the damn interviews over with so I can be the one to tap out next.” His grin is distorted by his swollen lips, but I couldn’t care less. He is still so damn hot. Reed did it again—showed the asshole he’s the best no matter what anyone says.

  And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

  My life is fucking daisies and sunshine. Perfect. Well fucking as close to perfect a person like me can get. I fall asleep each night with my girl, naked in all her damn glory and tucked along my side. And each morning I wake up hot and sweaty, but it’s all worth it when Hads hasn’t moved a damn muscle, stuck to me like glue. It’s the damn life. I have my belt back, I have my gyms, the house I’ve busted my ass for is being built, and I have this fucking empire around me.

  What more could I ask for?

  Well, that’s simple, one measly thing. The dire business at hand is Hads to finally be my fucking wife, to have my last name, and that final ring put on her finger. But that may never fucking happen, because her damn mind flips and flops on when and where almost every hour. Maybe not every hour, but shit, it feels like it when I’m itching to get hitched. Reed Collins wants to get married, start a fucking family, and build a damn house from the ground up. Next it’ll be a damn white-picket fence.

  Hads couldn’t give a shit about a lot of things and is as laid back as a chick can get, but damn laid back hasn’t been in any part of her vocabulary, not once, for the celebration of the changing of her last name. Damn Courtney got to her after the engagement party and fucking ideas were born left and right. It was a beach wedding yesterday, complete with hula dancers and tiki torches at sunset. The week before that was the same church where her parents got married on their anniversary, and the week before that was her family home in Colorado on the first snowfall. Like we can fucking see into the future for the exact day of that shit. And today, fuck today, she woke up, her mouth and her brain moving a mile a minute with another bomb drop and a whole damn new place.

  All this—this big pile of indecision—is driving me bat-shit crazy. But each time she peeks up at me with those damn blue eyes, with yet another hair-brain notion, her face shines so damn bright and her lips pout, I can’t help but turn to putty in her hands. That damn look Hads has perfected, no one can survive. It wraps around my nuts and turns me into a fucking whiny-ass chick.

  She’s firm on it all, declares it’s the only wedding we’ll ever have, so it has to be right for us as a couple. Blah, blah, blah. And no matter how many times I tell her that I don’t care as long as she’s finally mine for good, Hads stands her ground and won’t budge an inch on what she wants that day. I got mad respect, though, and I understand where she’s coming from with all this shit. And the damn bottom line, I love Hadley to the point of being mad, and if she wants to say the vows on the damn moon, I’ll move hell to make it work for her. To see that smile on her face.

  Our kitchen table is no longer used for eating meals. It’s been turned into ground zero for the planning, and as I sit here, still in my damn workout clothes from my morning run, I don’t even know where to begin to help ease some of this shit off her back. I wanted to hire a planner. Everyone and their mothers told Hads to hire a planner, but nope, she’s nixed that idea from the word go.

  My girl wants her hand in every pot and says she and Courtney have it under control. But I’m boxed in with a new group of pictures of the place she picked today, a whole shit ton of magazines stacked high in a messy pile with yellow tabs sticking out of the pages. Hads’s third wedding binder is open displaying yet another idea. I’m fucking smothered with it now and I need a planner just to deal with her fucking planning. It’s out of control.

  I pick up one of the pictures she went and had printed off before coffee was even in her system. “What’s this new place you’ve changed to?”

  “Reed, this is a brilliant plan. I mean, it’s a genius place to have it. You know that place near the rehab center when we took our walk? That glass chapel we found? Let’s do it there.” Hads speaks a mile a minute. A wide grin sprawls across that picture-perfect face of hers. Yet I still don’t get the big fucking deal about the where of all this, but she’ll get the dream wedding.

  “Do they do weddings?” I drop the picture and go for the cup of coffee I hate, but I need the damn jolt of caffeine to keep up with her.

  Hads drums her fingers on the table. She speaks to the magazines, thumbing through the pages at breakneck speed. “That might be the hiccup. The place has been closed for years. That’s why these are pictures of other glass chapels, but this gives the idea of what it will be like. But like you always say, money talks, and I’m sure for the right amount the owners will rent it out to us. Court is out back right now, finding out who we can talk to about it. But Reed, this is it. This is the place. Do it right when the leaves change in the fall, and do colors and—oh, I have an idea!”

  Say what? No. “Did you just say fall?”

  “Yes.”

  “The fall, Hads? Really? It’s fucking March, and fall in Georgia doesn’t even really start till November.”

  “I Googled it this morning. In the mountains, leaves change in October. Mmm-hmm, let me see…” Her fingers rapidly flip through the calendar, because this event calls for it to have its own calendar. “We could do October seventh. Yes, that’s when. Perfect. You could even work it around your schedule, and if we do it this early, we could even have an extended honeymoon. Doesn’t that sound magical, maybe a week at the beach and maybe fly to Europe? Who knows? But you don’t have a fight scheduled, and you’re the defender, so you can give a date.” Hads continues to ramble on some more, clearly excited about this.

  But I don’t hear anything after I mentally count how far away it is. Seven fucking months. Seven. In the grand scheme of others, it’s shorter than a normal engagement, but really? It’s a damn lifetime to wait when we’ve been engaged for three months already.

  But Hadley hasn’t been this animated about a place before, and I know she’s hell-bent on this one.

  Courtney slides the chair out, her phone spinning in her hand. “You want
the good news, or the bad news?”

  Hadley pauses what she’s doing, shifting to the edge of her seat. “Bad.”

  “The owner won’t budge on renting. He said that to get the structure to be good enough to hold anything or anyone, it isn’t worth it to him.”

  “If that’s the bad, then how could there be good?”

  “He said he would sell it and you could do anything you want with it.”

  “What would we do with a glass fucking chapel after we get married?”

  Hads fucking looks at me like I have snakes coming out of my head. “Reed, shush. Court, how much?”

  “With the building and the land it’s on, he said he’ll unload it for fifty grand.”

  I laugh out loud. Fuck, these girls have no clue how much that fifty grand could change lives. “Not to mention the costs to fix it up. We are looking at probably seventy five, and not to mention the wedding itself. That’s too much for one day, babe.”

  Hadley pouts. Her damn eyes shut tightly and her mouth trembles.

  “Hads, babe. Shit, are you going to cry?”

  She opens her eyes and they glass over, and sure enough, she’s about to start the waterworks. “No—well, maybe. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been so damn emotional all week and this just sucks. I really wanted it there.”

  I hop up from my seat, take her chin in my hand, and tip her face up to mine. “We will find another place. But that’s just too much for one day. I know you have that money, but if you want to waste money like that, take fifty grand out of the fucking bank then roll the window down and let the money rain, babe. Because that’s insane to spend.”