We make eye contact, and like a giddy teenager spotting her crush, Gram frantically waves at me before blowing me a kiss. I laugh and shake my head before blowing her a kiss back.
A moment later, the arena is once again plunged into darkness, and this time, the intro music announces that my opponent is on his way to the fight.
While the lights are still low, Breccan squats in front of me. “You ready for this, man?”
I bob my head and then tell him, “Yeah. Readier than I’ve ever been.”
He claps me on the leg. “That’s right. That belt belongs to you. Shoulda never left your waist to begin with. Time you reclaim it.”
Tripp’s been standing behind me, rubbing my shoulders in an effort to loosen me up. “Fuck yeah, man. Prescott doesn’t deserve the title of light heavyweight champion. That’s all you. Let’s get out there and show them that Team Undisputed isn’t fucking around.”
I jump to my feet, energized by the speeches. Seconds later, the emcee begins announcing us and calls us to the center of the cage. My adrenaline begins pumping as I stride over and stick my hands out, touching gloves with Dax Prescott. Then I lift my chin. One corner of his mouth tips up, and then he backs into his corner. I take one last deep breath and clear my mind, thinking of nothing but the game plan I spent months training for.
The bell rings, signaling the beginning of the first round, and just like riding a bike, it all comes back to me.
We shoot out of our respective corners and meet in the middle, and Prescott wastes no time before trying to take me to the ground. After studying tapes of his fights, I knew that would be his plan going in, so I spent extra time working to avoid the takedown.
The hard work seems to have been worth it, as I’m able to easily avoid his attempt, and on his way back up, I catch him with an uppercut that causes him to wobble. Before I have a chance to capitalize on it though, he recovers and comes at me again. Just as easily as before, I dodge his arms, and his face flashes with frustration.
I spend the rest of the round squashing his attempts at getting me on the ground and punching him in the face, but it’s never hard enough to knock him down for long.
When the bell sounds, signifying the end of the first round, I clap him on the shoulder and then jog back to my corner. After I flop onto my stool, Tripp comes around and puts ice on my right shoulder. Breccan once again squats in front of me.
“Great fucking round, man. Great round. You’re following the game plan perfectly. Keep it up.”
I open my mouth so he can squirt water in, and then I swoosh it around before spitting it out on the ground in front of me. Breccan continues instructing me on what to do next, and once he finishes, I look out at the crowd, immediately finding Rebecca.
She’s on her feet, her arms waving wildly, her face split in the broadest smile I’ve ever seen. I wink at her, and she blows me a kiss right as the ref comes over to let me know that it’s almost time for round two.
When the bell rings, I jog out and tap gloves with Prescott once more. I expect him to try another takedown, so I’m caught off guard when he nails me in the temple with a right hook. Instantly, I see double and my knees buckle. From my corner, I can hear Breccan and Tripp shouting at me to shake it off, but it sounds like they’re at the other end of a long tunnel. My knees give out and I go down, and Dax quickly jumps on the opportunity.
He hooks an arm under my chin and rolls us so that I’m flat on my back, lying on top of him. His hold gets tighter, and I can feel my wind pipe slowly closing.
Breathing in what little oxygen I can, I tell myself not to panic. Slowly, the method we worked on to get out of this predicament comes back to me, and in a matter of minutes, he loses his grip.
I suck in a huge breath, and the moment oxygen hits my lungs, my vision stops swimming. Pushing away from him, I jump to my feet, and he scrambles up after me.
I glance up at the clock and see that there’s only a minute left of round two. Not wanting to burn out, I try to tell myself to slow down. But, when Prescott drops his hands, I know that it’s now or never.
Rearing back, I put all of my weight into the swing. The moment my fist connects with Prescott’s jaw, his head snaps back and his eyes roll. His body stiffens, and I know he’s unconscious before he even hits the mat.
The ref rushes over, throwing himself between us, and waves his arms high above his head.
All around me, the crowd goes crazy, the sound nearly deafening. I stand, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what just happened.
I’ve still not moved moments later when Breccan and Tripp rush into the cage. Breccan grabs me around the waist and lifts me up, spinning me around while Tripp jumps around beside us. While I’m still in the air, I see Rebecca shoving her way through the crowd, tears streaming down her face. She pushes past security and somehow manages to sprint up the stairs in her stilettos.
When Breccan notices her, he drops me, and I land just in time to catch her as she hurls herself into my arms. With her face buried in my neck, she sobs words I can’t understand. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as the reality of what just occurred hits me.
She pulls back and looks into my eyes before screaming, “You fucking won! You did it! You fucking did it!”
I nod, unable to form words, and she plants a kiss on me, her tongue plunging into my mouth. We’re locked in a passionate kiss, the crowd still going wild around us, when members of Prescott’s camp come over and pat me on the back, congratulating me on my win.
Forced to break our seal, I put Rebecca down and we wade our way through the people in the cage to the center.
Prescott sticks a hand out and tells me, “Hell of a left hook you got there.” His lips split so wide that it’ll definitely need stiches, but still, he manages a smile. “Congratulations, man. Hate to give it up, but you deserve that belt.”
I thank him, and then the emcee begins speaking, his voice booming over the loudspeakers.
“And now, the light heavyweight champion, Ryker ‘The Stryker’ Hawke!”
The cage clears out, and an announcer comes over to interview me.
“You are back, my man!” he shouts in to his microphone. “Tell me how it felt to be back in the cage competing after being out of the game for more than two years?”
“Like I never fucking left,” I tell him.
“Well, you look like you never left. Tell me: What––”
I grab the mic from him, cutting him off midsentence. “First, I need to thank the fans. I’ve never been to Australia before, and this fight was just the icing on an already-amazing trip. We’ve been here two weeks already, and I’m thinking we may never go home!”
The crowd cheers, but I keep going, shouting over them.
“Listen, there’s someone I need to talk about for a second.” I turn and look at Rebecca. Pointing a finger at her, I tell the audience, “This woman right here is the reason, the only reason, you just saw that incredible fucking fight. She convinced me to start training again. She found my sponsors. She sent me to incredible gyms all over the country to train. She made this dream a reality.” I drop my arm that’s holding the microphone and nod at Tripp.
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a small, velvet box.
I hand the mic back to the announcer and then grab Rebecca’s left hand. When I drop to one knee, her eyes widen and her free hand flies to her mouth. I rehearsed this moment in my head countless times over the last few weeks, but all the preparation in the world isn’t helping to ease the nerves I am feeling.
“Rebecca Toler.” I pause, swallowing hard. “I didn’t even know it then, but when I walked into your gym last year, I was fucking dead inside. You brought me back to life. You gave me a reason to want to fight again. You are the craziest person I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep up with you. But you’re my kind of fucking crazy. I want to spend the rest of my life being crazy with you. Rebecca, will you marry me?”
Tears stream down her face, a
nd she wipes them, causing her makeup to smear. She doesn’t answer right away, and my stomach begins to turn, but finally, she nods. I pop the box open to reveal the pear-shaped engagement ring that belonged to Gram.
Standing, I slide the vintage ring on her finger and she gasps. When she looks at me, her eyes sparkle.
“Ryker, it’s incredible,” she says, admiring it.
I nod and tell her, “It was Gram’s. She gave it to me the day after she met you. Said that, the moment she saw us together, she knew that the ring was meant to be yours.”
Her jaw drops, and she looks out at the crowd, her eyes finding my Gram’s. She holds her hand up and smiles, and I can see Gram dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and bend at the waist to scoop her into my arms. As I make my way out of the cage, I tell her, “Time to celebrate the best day of my fucking life. All because of you.”
Epilogue
Rebecca
Five Years Later
Tripp’s voice booms over the loudspeaker, and I pull my attention away from the squirming child in my lap. He’s standing on the stage behind a podium, microphone in one hand, his other gesturing at the table I’m seated at.
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to this year’s Mixed Martial Arts Hall of Fame induction ceremony. It is my honor to be the one to bestow this honor upon both of these men. I’m your host for the evening, Tripp Toler.” He pauses, looks at our table, then smiles wide.
The room fills with applause from the hundreds of people who have filled the auditorium. My chest swells with pride when I hear the crown begin to chant my husband’s name.
“I’m lucky enough to personally know Breccan and Ryker. Breccan Carlisle and I have been friends since we were just wimpy, pimple-faced kids.”
Breccan interrupts him and shouts, “Speak for yourself, Tripp! I’ve never been wimpy.”
The crowd erupts in laughter.
Tripp flips him the bird before continuing. “Breccan’s never been known for being couth. But, unfortunately for me, he’s right.”
He launches into the story of how they met, and I laugh, shaking my head at the memory of that schoolyard fight. He continues to talk about their lifelong friendship, and I gaze across the table to Breccan, who has a smirk on his face. One arm’s wrapped around Sidney’s shoulders, the other draped across the back of the chair five-year-old Olivia is sitting in. Mason, Breccan and Sidney’s one-year-old son, is asleep in his mama’s arms, his precious little mouth hanging open.
The crowd laughs at something my brother said, and I feel a tug on my arm.
“Mama?” a little voice whispers in my ear.
“Yes?” I whisper back, glancing down at Ellie, one of my four-year-old twins.
“Unca Tripp is really funny!” she whisper-shouts, a lopsided grin on her face.
I smile back and mutter, “Yeah, but don’t tell him that.”
It was just six weeks after Ryker won his comeback fight and popped the question that I found out it wasn’t a terrible case of food poisoning, but instead a serious case of being knocked up––with twins. I was terrified. We hadn’t even started planning our wedding, and there I was, about to show him a grainy ultrasound picture with two kidney beans that were supposed to be babies. I had no idea how he’d take the news, worried that it would be a deal breaker, but I should have known better.
Ryker was over the moon, and when we found out that they were girls, he insisted we name them after Gram. She was beside herself with glee when we told her that we were naming one of them Ellie and the other Hattie.
The child in my lap turns, knocking the silverware from the table. When it clatters to the floor she squeals in delight.
“Cinny!” I hiss, my teeth clenched. I glare at her, giving her my best “Mom’s serious” face, but instead of striking fear in her the way I intended, she giggles.
“Mama, dat’s a silly face!” she shouts.
A mere three months after the birth of the twins, I came down with the stomach flu. Except I didn’t have the nasty virus that had been going around. What I had was a case of being pregnant––again. Two weeks after the girls turned one, Cinny, named after my mother, made her grand entrance into the world. Thirty minutes after my water broke and only ten minutes after I’d arrived at the hospital. The doctor caught her as he was still pulling on his gloves.
She’s been doing things her way since, and I should have known I was in trouble from that very moment.
I snap my head toward Ryker and see him grinning broadly. Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “Do something with your child.”
He shifts Hattie, who was quietly sitting on his lap, to one thigh. After wrapping a muscular arm around Cinny’s waist, he pulls her from my lap to his. When he gets both girls situated, I glance down at my dress, trying to smooth the wrinkles from the designer gown.
I spent the day pampering myself in preparation, partly because it was a big night for my husband, but also because I’d needed the excuse to get out of the house and do something for myself. Tonight is the first night in weeks that I’m not dressed in yoga pants covered in dog hair.
Poor Prince quickly went from being a pampered pooch to a jungle gym for wiggly toddlers. But he took it in stride, and the girls all adored him. The twins even insisted on having his picture on their last birthday cake.
Ryker catches my hands, stilling them, and leans over to whisper in my ear, “You look incredible. Like always.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth blooms in my chest. Most days, I don’t even recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror, motherhood having a way of changing you and making you realize what’s important in life. But Ryker never once, even when I was heavy with the twins, stopped telling me that I am beautiful and making me feel like the center of his world.
He releases my hand, and using his thumb and his forefinger, he turns my head to face him before pressing his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
Little girl giggles interrupt us, and he pulls away, winking at Ellie.
With a quick peck on his lips, I promise, “We’ll finish this tonight.”
Ryker offers a sly smile and says, “Let’s make another little princess.”
I blink twice and whisper, “Have you forgotten what it’s like when I can’t drink wine?” With the reminder, I grab my glass and take a swallow. “You’ve lost your mind. The princess factory is closed, buddy.”
“Aw, don’t be such a spoil sport,” Gram pipes up on the other side of Ellie. “How about one more?”
I whip my head to look at her. “Who’s side are you on here, Gram?”
She chuckles. “The princess’s side, of course.”
I am not surprised. With twins on the way, I finally got serious about selling my condo. We were lucky enough to find a large house near Breccan and Sidney that was outfitted with a mother-in-law suite behind it and promptly moved Gram in. She began spoiling the girls the moment they were born, much like my parents did with both Breccan’s kids and mine.
I look over to my parents and smile when I notice my mom playing a game of tic-tac-toe with Olivia on a napkin. With Breccan’s parents not a part of his life and Sidney’s gone, my mom and dad enthusiastically took on the role of grandparents. Our summertime cookouts are still a weekly affair, my parents relishing having children in the house again.
Tripp says Ryker’s name, and I turn my attention back to his speech.
“Ryker Hawke walked into my gym one hot July day and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Here we are, five years later, and he still doesn’t take no for an answer, insisting that Breccan and he be inducted into the Hall of Fame together. Seeing as how I grew up with his wife, I know the shit he has to put up with at home, so I made sure to oblige his request.”
Tripp winks at me, and I stick my tongue out. The girls giggle beside me, and I turn my gaze to my husband.
Remembering that fateful July day, I study his handsome profile, my stomach flutt
ering. Even after all of this time, I still can’t get over how sexy he is.
He cuts his gaze over at me and asks, “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just can’t believe we’re here. You and Breccan in the Hall of Fame. Our family together. These precious, pain-in-my-ass girls you gave me.” My eyes begin to water as I stroke Cinny’s hair. “Our life together. It’s perfect. You’ve made my life perfect.”
He wraps his arm around my bare shoulders, pulling me into his side. His forefinger traces my collarbone, and a shiver races down my spine.
“My life was a mess, and at the rate I was going, it wasn’t going to get better. I’d given up, convinced myself that I was nothing anymore. But you saw me and saw through the bullshit.” He stops talking and lifts his chin across the table. “Doll, look around.”
I make another sweep around the table, my heart nearly bursting.
“I had nothing to do with this, baby. This is all you.”
I nod, a tear rolling down my cheek. He uses his thumb to wipe it away, and I grab his hand before bringing his palm to my lips and kissing.
“It’s just so crazy. The last few years with the babies. You winning every one of your fights before deciding that you’d done everything you wanted to and then retiring. On your terms. Us opening the other gyms together.”
He smirks. “Crazy is right. But it only makes sense, seeing as I married the craziest woman I’ve ever known.”
I narrow my eyes and whisper, “Careful now. I still have time to develop a headache.”
He chuckles. “You may be crazy, but you’re my brand of crazy.” He kisses my temple, and my stomach flutters at the contact of his lips on my skin, just like it always has. “And, baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Undaunted: An Outside the Cage Novella
Chapter One
Rebecca
The Undisputed Series Page 53