The Undisputed Series

by Teague, A. S.

  “All right, sis. I’m gonna get out of here too. Date with Aly.” He wags his eyebrows at me.

  I drop my head back and groan. “Whyyyyy?”

  The silly grin he was just sporting vanishes, morphing into an unfamiliar frown. “Love her, Mouse. Don’t know why most of the time, but I do.”

  Guilt washes over me for all the times I gave him shit about her. I can’t stand her, and I probably never will, but I never stopped to consider how my jabs and smartass comments might be affecting him.

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him in close. “I’m sorry I always give you such a hard time about her. I’ve been really selfish, always complaining about how much she sucks.” I lean away from him and give him a half smile. “I’ll try to keep it to myself in the future.”

  His smile reappears, and he says, “Thanks. You know, she’s a lot like you.”

  “The hell she is,” I snap, unable to stop myself before the words burst out. “That bitch is nothing like me.”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Well, keeping your feelings to yourself lasted all of three seconds. Good try.” Laughing, he tells me, “Call ya tomorrow.”

  After he leaves, I gather up supplies to treat Ryker’s impending hangover. Once I’ve gotten everything together, I lock the house up and then go check on him.

  I find him passed out diagonally in the bed, still fully clothed. Careful not to wake him, I get his shoes off and then crawl into the bed next to him.

  A crash jolts me into consciousness, and I sit straight up in the bed. “What the hell?” I mutter to myself. Orienting myself, I realize I’m alone. “Ryker?” I call out.

  A second later, he responds. “In here.”

  Throwing the covers off me, I slide out of bed and grab my robe, wrapping it around myself before padding out of my room. I’m halfway down the hall when I sniff the air.

  “Do I smell cinnamon?” I round the corner and see Ryker in the kitchen, a frying pan in one hand.

  “Hey, watch this!” he says right before flicking his wrist and causing whatever was in the pan to fly out and land on the counter with a splat. “Dammit,” he grumbles. “Hey, doll. Want some coffee?” he asks right before shoving a steaming mug into my hands.

  “Thanks. Whatcha makin’?” I ask, peering around him at the mess that used to be my kitchen.

  “Pancakes.”

  “They smell fantastic. But you’re making a huge mess. You do remember that I’m trying to sell this place, right? I think I’ve got a showing tonight.”

  “I’ll get it cleaned up,” he promises. “The pancakes are Gram’s recipe. There’s a secret trick I’m not supposed to share, but if you come give me a kiss, I might be talked into it.” He winks at me and then puckers his lips.

  I set my cup on the counter, take the two steps to him, and wrap my arms around his waist. After obliging him, he shifts me to his side so that he can use a hand to stir the batter.

  “It’s buttermilk,” he whispers loudly.

  “Mmmm. Good to know. I can’t cook for shit, but I’ll try to remember that,” I tell him.

  After he kisses the top of my head, he nudges me away from him and tells me, “Grab your coffee and go sit down. I’ll finish with this batch and then we can eat.”

  Once I’ve done as instructed, I eye him suspiciously. I’m shocked that he’s even awake right now, much less cooking breakfast. The empty bottle of whiskey I threw away last night was almost full before Ryker had confiscated it from atop my fridge.

  And Ryker’s behavior is nothing like I was expecting. After climbing into bed beside him, I went over a hundred different scenarios of how this morning would go. I planned out the pep talk I would give him and the cliché words of encouragement that wouldn’t mean shit. I braced myself for him to spend the day—hell, the rest of the week—moping around. He’d be within his rights to throw the world’s biggest pity party, and I already decided I wasn’t going to push him to get back to work. Tripp and Breccan would just have to find someone to cover for him for a few days.

  But, of all the possible ways I thought this morning would go, this was definitely not one of them.

  I take a swallow of my coffee, smiling at how well he knows me by now, right down to the way I like my morning cup of brew. Then I clear my throat and, against my better judgment, ask, “How ya doing this morning, honey?”

  He doesn’t even look in my direction when he answers me. “I’m great. Head hurt a little when I got up, but I drank some water and I’m fine now.”

  I nod even though he can’t see it and say, “Well, that’s good. But I was asking more about how you’re feeling about that meeting yesterday.”

  “I’m gonna get this one. You watchin’?” he asks right before flipping his wrist. This time, the pancake lands back in the pan with a sizzle and Ryker victoriously pumps his free hand in the air. “Hell yeah!” he shouts.

  “You didn’t answer me,” I say instead of acknowledging his culinary skills.

  He drops the pan back onto the stove, and then, bracing both hands on the edge of the counter, he leans forward and drops his head.

  Panic and relief simultaneously fill my belly. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what he has to say, because nothing will make it any better. But I’m glad he’s finally going to tell me the truth of what’s going on in his head, as opposed to his insistence on ignoring it by making me breakfast and dirtying every dish in my kitchen.

  He turns his head and pins me with his stare. “I’m fine,” he says simply.

  No longer feeling relieved, I glare at him. “You’re such a terrible fucking liar.”

  He blows out a breath and says, “Fine. You wanna know how I’m feeling?”

  I vigorously nod.

  “I’m fucking crushed. I don’t know what to do or where to go from here.”

  My stomach sinks, and I almost wish I hadn’t insisted on making him tell me.

  “But what’s the point in dwelling on it? Wallowing in pity, lying around, drinking all day. None of that’s going to change anything. It’s not going to make that prick change his mind. So, why waste any more time?” He pushes against the counter, standing upright, and saunters over to me. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he tells me. “It’s time I move on, realize that part of my life is over. And, you know, I’m okay with that. I’ve got a good job, I’ve got friends––for the first time in my life, sad as that is––and, baby, I’ve got you. So, yeah. I hate like hell that I’m never going to compete again. But my life isn’t over––not even close. Our life? It’s just beginning. You know?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I’m not sure how you manage to do it, Ryker Hawke. But I swear you do or say something every day that makes me fall even more in love with you than I already was.” I cup his cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I had this speech all worked up in my head, and now, I don’t even need to use it.” I laugh. “You wanna hear it anyway?”

  He smiles and nods. “Sure. But, first, let’s eat.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ryker

  It’s been a week since the meeting with the president, and although I haven’t been training like before, life has gotten somewhat back to normal. Rebecca is still treating me with kid gloves, and I appreciated her concern, but I’ve told her time and time again that I am fine. She is, however, thrilled that we are no longer spending our evenings in the gym.

  I am sparring with Mickey when Tripp materializes beside me.

  “Hey, man. I wanna talk to you about something before we get going.” He glances at his watch and then looks me over. “You aren’t going like that, are you?”

  Wrinkling my brow, I ask, “Going where?”

  He pats me on the shoulder and then looks at Mickey. “Hey, get one of the other guys to finish up.” He looks around the gym and shouts, “Yo, Jake! Come take over for Ryker.”

  Jake jogs over to us, and after I’ve finished pulling the striking pads off, I hand them to him and follow Tripp
to the locker room.

  I snag a towel from the closet and mop my face with it. “What’s going on?” I ask, still confused.

  He sits on the bench and says, “Breccan and I have been doing some talking these last few days.” He averts his gaze.

  My mind begins spinning, and I try to figure out what this conversation could be about. As I conjure up all the things they could have been talking about in reference to me, my stomach lurches.

  I probably owe Breccan and the gym big time for the training they’ve given me in preparation for my comeback that is no longer happening. I was planning to approach Tripp about it and let him know that I plan to pay them back every penny I owe them—I just haven’t quite worked out how I’ll be able to do so.

  Swallowing hard against the bile that’s creeping up the back of my throat, I tell him, “Listen, man. I know I owe y’all. I’ve been trying to figure out how to pay you back.”

  He shakes his head. “What? No. I don’t care about that shit. You don’t owe us anything.”

  “Of course I do. Training isn’t free,” I argue. Not only that, but I’m not about to take any handouts. It’s bad enough I’ve had to suck it up where Rebecca’s concerned.

  He puts a hand up. “Stop.”

  I clamp my jaw shut.

  He continues. “That’s not what we want to talk to you about.”

  “You about to fire me, then?” I ask hesitantly.

  He throws his head back and roars, “Fuck no, we aren’t firing you!” He dramatically clutches at his side, howling. “Next to Breccan, you’re our best trainer. Look at fuckin’ Mickey. His ass was on his way out until you stepped in and took over his training.”

  I don’t want to tell him that I agree. It would be pompous of me, but he did have a point. Since I started working here, several of our guys have had huge victories over tough opponents.

  “Look, man. You’re making me nervous. It’s been a week of disappointments. I guess I’m just waiting for more bad news,” I finally admit in the hopes that he’ll put me out of my misery.

  Tripp stands and claps me on the back. “Yeah, I hear that.” He clears his throat and says, “Listen, if the meeting with the board today doesn’t go the way we’re hoping it will, Breccan and I want to know if you’d be interested in buying into the gym with us and becoming a partner?”

  When he finishes speaking, my head spins. Just a moment ago, I was convinced I was about to lose my job, and now, Tripp is offering me a chance at advancing.

  I imagine my name on the door, directly under Breccan’s and Tripp’s. I’ll finally be able to be proud of my life again. Even though I never gave a shit what people thought of me after my drug scandal, it will be nice to show everyone that it didn’t ruin my life. I’ll be able to proudly talk about my gym and my fighters, not just the gym I work at.

  But, more than the pride of being a co-owner of one of the best gyms in the country, I’ll finally be able to provide for my family again.

  My mind jumps to Gram and how I’ll be able to move her out of that hellhole we’ve been living in. Being a partner means I won’t have to worry about making a week’s worth of food stretch to two. I can afford to take Rebecca out and not have to skip the water bill for a month. I’ll be able to buy her things for the first time since we got together.

  Maybe even a ring.

  My face splits into a grin so wide that it makes my cheeks hurt. I stick my hand out at Tripp, and he quickly grasps it.

  “Dude, I can’t even begin to tell you how that offer makes me feel. But I don’t have any money. I don’t have any idea what the buy-in would be, but I can almost guarantee its more than the twelve dollars in my bank account.”

  He waves me off. “Breccan and I discussed that too. We’ll work something out, man.”

  “You talk to Rebecca about any of this?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s got a big fuckin’ mouth. Figured we’d wait until we talked to you first.”

  With excitement flowing through my veins, I tell him, “You mind if I go tell her––” I stop midsentence when the first part of what Tripp said to me echoes in my head. ”Wait. What do you mean by ‘if things don’t go our way with the board’?” I question.

  “At the meeting today. If they turn us down.”

  “What fucking meeting?” I growl.

  He presses his lips together and then surmises, “Ah, Rebecca didn’t tell you, did she?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and, using my thumb and my forefinger, pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. Of course. Rebecca. I swear, man, that woman is going to be the death of me.”

  “You and me both,” he mumbles.

  “So, what kind of meeting do we have today?” I ask, still fuming. I swear, if it’s Rebecca’s doing, there’s no telling what I’m in for.

  “Breccan knows one of the guys on the board. He called for a meeting to see if we can’t get them to override Brown’s decision.”

  I shove a hand through my sweaty hair. “Christ!” I bite out. “No one thought that it would be a good idea to tell me about this meeting. You know, since it’s my fucking life?”

  He puts his hands up in surrender. “Look, man. Rebecca said she told you about it.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s not your fault. But fuck, I don’t understand why she won’t let this shit go!”

  I have no interest in meeting with the board. I have no interest in meeting with anyone if it’s in regard to my fighting for the league again.

  I stalk to the locker room door and slap it with my hand, causing it to swing open. “Rebecca!” I shout.

  Her head pops up from behind her computer screen, and a shy smile forms when she spots me. “I can explain!” she shouts back at me.

  Using my arm, I make a wide sweeping motion into the locker room, indicating that I want her to do just that, and she jumps to her feet. Once she’s inside, I let the door go and it slams shut behind us.

  With his hands in his pockets, Tripp says, “I’ll, uh, just let you two sort this out.” He ducks around me and, on his way through the door, says, “Meeting’s in an hour downtown. Make it quick.”

  Not even bothering to wait on him to leave, I round on Rebecca and growl, “Why can’t you leave it alone?”

  Dramatically, she crosses her arms and stomps a foot. “Because you don’t deserve this punishment! You didn’t do anything!”

  Even through my irritation at her for meddling, her words warm me, and I know she’s only interested in making things right for me.

  I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. “I know that you think you’re doin’ what’s best for me, doll.” I kiss the top of her coconut-scented head and then lean away from her. “But, baby, I’m really okay with it. Really.”

  It’s mostly true. If I never fight again, I’ll be okay with that. But, if the board overturns Brown’s decision, I’ll be okay with that too.

  “You’re a fighter, Ryker. You can’t possibly be happy being told your career is over when it shouldn’t be.”

  I shake my head. “Of course I’m not happy about not deciding when to call it quits. That should have been my decision to make. But I’m tired of having my hopes fuckin’ crushed. I’m ready to move on with my life, even if that life doesn’t involve fighting anymore. I promise you I’m at peace with it now.”

  She sighs heavily. “I know you are now. But I had Breccan set this meeting up when you weren’t okay. Just go, please?”

  Deciding it’ll be easier to go than have to listen to Rebecca if I don’t, I nod. Her face breaks into a broad smile, and she stands on her toes, pecking me on the cheek before reaching around and smacking me on the ass.

  “Go shower!” She wrinkles her nose. “You stink!” Her heels clap on the ground, and she makes her way to the door. “Be quick. We gotta go soon!”

  “Yes, mother,” I drawl.

  She gives me the finger before pushing her way through the door and back to her desk.
<
br />   Groaning, I grab my duffel from the locker and make my way to the showers.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry,” Rebecca says, tracing the outline of my hand with her fingertip. “I really thought they were going to say yes.”

  The meeting with the board was much less infuriating than the meeting with Brown, but the outcome was the same. No deal. I had tried my best to not get my hopes up, but despite my efforts, a little glimmer of hope had somehow wormed its way inside me. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t care what the board had to say. That, either way, I would accept their decision and move on. But that is easier said than done.

  Clearing my throat of the emotion that’s once again threatening to spill over, I tell her, “Baby, it’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry.”

  She releases my hand and turns on her side. “It is my fault. I kept pushing it. I just don’t understand why the board can’t override Brown. What’s the point in the board if they have no power at all?”

  We’re lying in her bed, a sheet covering our naked bodies. We opted to skip the gym and do our workout in the bedroom instead.

  I shift to my side so that we are face-to-face. As I trail a finger along the curve of her hip, I tell her, “Good question. I’m sure that, if we did some digging, we would see that Brown handpicked all of those members himself. Probably to assure that he would remain in control. Although Breccan’s man seemed like a good guy.”

  After the meeting, Breccan’s contact on the board apologized to me for not being able to help more. We shook hands, and right before he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath that he knew that Brown was lying. He just couldn’t prove it. I kept that bit of information to myself, however, not wanting to give Rebecca anything else to get upset about.

  “Yeah. I could tell he felt bad about it. Breccan said that, when he talked to him earlier in the week, he’d indicated that he thought Brown was a jackass too. But I guess, when you’re only one of five, there isn’t much you can do,” she tells me.