“Jesus, pop,” I wheeled around in shock, as I discovered the place had been transformed since I’d been gone. There was fruit in the fruit bowl, bread in the bread rack – shit, even an empty case of Miller Lite, suggesting twelve cans were hidden away in the old refrigerator.
“You’re gonna kill me, son,” Walt grinned, as he welcomed me and Roxy inside. “The night I heard about your fight, I called up Red and I bet him the truck on you.”
“You did what?”
Walt laughed dryly.
“Relax,” he grinned. “I won, didn’t I?”
And that was true enough. The old Chevy was still parked in the driveway.
“I got enough for groceries and beer – and the doctor says I’ll be back at work next week, if I’m lucky.”
Walt gestured for us to sit down in the nook.
“And I promise you, son – my bettin’ days are over.”
I eased my bulk into the cramped breakfast nook, and looked up at my old man.
Walter Oates was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. If he said he was done gambling, I was inclined to believe him. And, at least, he ended his streak on a high note.
The fridge door rattled as he opened it. He hauled out three Miller Lites, and a moment later I was gulping down an ice-cold taste of America they couldn’t replicate in London.
“So, all’s well that ends well,” Walt grinned, joining us in the seat opposite. “You’re back, son. Back in the league. Back in the black.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m damned proud of you, boy.”
I snorted.
“It was a long time coming.”
Slurping his beer, Walt turned to Roxy, and asked:
“And what about you, sweetheart? What’s your plan?” Giving me a wink, dad followed up with: “This numb-nuts left without you four years ago. I wouldn’t be much of a dad if I let him make that same mistake again.”
“Jesus, dad.” I rolled my eyes.
“I mean it, son,” dad pointed a bruised, but accusing finger at me. “I don’t care about those strippers, models and film stars you dated up in New York…”
“Oh, my,” Roxy raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to tell me about them some time.”
Dad ignored her.
“…this girl here? She’s one in a million. Not many guys get a second chance with a girl like that – so don’t blow it.”
I snorted.
“Thanks, dad,” I hissed – but when he opened his mouth to defend himself, I shut him up by grabbing Roxy’s hand, and holding it tight in front of him.
“As a matter of fact,” I growled, “Roxy’s coming with me next week. Back to New York.”
Dad’s eyes widened.
“She is?”
“Dan Blanc offered me a training job, and I figured…”
She didn’t end that sentence. She didn’t need to. Even my dad knew what she meant.
Roxy had figured that Freeport had given her everything it could – and now it was time to move on.
And, thank God, I was the lucky bastard she was moving on with.
“But…” Walt’s eyes widened. “But what about the school? About your house?”
“I’m closing the school,” Roxy explained. “I should have done it years ago. I couldn’t even make this month’s rent – so it’s long overdue.”
She sipped her beer.
“And the house? The realtor says it’s not even worth the tax I owe on it, so I’m giving it to Joe.”
Old Joe Santos – the Native American who’d been cleaning floors and scrubbing mats at X-AMERICA since before I could remember.
“He and his wife need somewhere to live, and I can’t sell the damned place – so why not?”
My dad’s eyes widened, and he nodded his head in appreciation.
“Damn. They always go on about having to ‘tie up loose ends.’ I guess in a place like Freeport, there aren’t as many of them as you’d imagine.”
“It works out great, dad,” I grinned. “My buddy Nico’s moving out anyway – he’s getting married. So Roxy’s gonna move in with me. We’ll get her the training job. I’ll get my next fight scheduled…”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d come to Freeport with nothing. Now I was leaving with everything I could have hoped for – and more.
My dad raised his beer, and the three of us chinked bottles in celebration.
“Well, here’s to you. To you both.”
Beneath the table, I squeezed Roxy’s hand tightly.
* * *
Later that night, Roxy and I sat on the scrub, overlooking the gulf.
Behind us, the lights of the trailer park twinkled, and shone.
In a weird, white-trash Texas way, it was kind of beautiful, and romantic – and it felt right for me to have my arm around Roxy’s shoulders, as we stared out into the rippling green sea.
“I love you, Roxy,” I told her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
She looked up, surprised.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her eyes were twinkling in the moonlight. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No,” she admitted. “Or, at least, it used not to be. But the last time you said that to me was four years ago, Travis.” She sniffed bitterly. “Just before you left, I seem to remember.”
Ouch.
“Well, I’m a goddamned fool,” I hissed.
“It’s okay.” Roxy laid her head on my arm. “So, when did you feel that way about me again? When we were in London? Before?”
And then it was my turn to look at her like she was crazy.
“What the hell do you mean, Roxy?” When she looked confused, I explained: “I never stopped loving you. Not four years ago. Not all the time in between. Not now.”
And then I leaned down to kiss her, hard and wetly on the mouth.
“I was a damn fool, walking away from you all those years ago…”
“No,” Roxy pressed her finger against my lips. “I was a damn fool for letting you.”
So I kissed her again, and I lost myself in her embrace.
After what seemed like an eternity, as we peeled ourselves apart, I took Roxy’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
We gazed out together, across the rippling water.
Sometimes love hits the right people at the wrong times. Sometimes, you need to be apart for a while, before you can be together again.
But one thing was true – one thing I’d never allow myself to forget.
Now fate had thrown Roxy Rockatansky back into my life, I was never going to let her go again.
The End
Acknowledgements
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New York, 2016
Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance Page 23