Fighting for Us (Love is Worth Fighting For Book 1)
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Fighting For Us
Love Is Worth Fighting For Series Book 1
Bella Emy
FIGHTING FOR US © 2020 Bella Emy
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Bella Emy
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Cover Designer: Just Write Creations
Editor: Angie Wade of Novel Nurse Editing
Proofreader: Janna Bethel
Created with Vellum
Synopsis
LORENZO
I had it all.
A wonderful family with a loving wife who was my world and a beautiful baby girl.
I didn’t need anything more to be rich in my eyes.
Then one day, everything changed and my world was ripped apart.
My wife, my everything, was taken from me, and I was left alone to raise our baby girl.
I was forced from late night sessions at the gym to changing diapers all by myself.
Thank God for the help I received from my parents and siblings or I would have been lost.
I accepted my fate of being alone with my baby girl and living life with just us two…
Until the day I met her, and she became everything worth fighting for.
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CARISSA
Life was so perfect.
A loving fiancé, wonderful friends and family, and a job I adored.
Until one day, my world was turned upside down and the man I loved threw the promise of forever down the drain and walked out of my life.
The day he walked out of my door, I knew that everything I had ever grown up to believe in was a lie.
Love is unconditional but love sure as hell doesn’t last forever.
The vow to love me for the rest of our lives ended quickly as he pulled away from me, and buried himself in the arms of his ex.
I was left alone, cursing the male species and everyone who had found their happily ever after.
My sister and my best friend were the only ones there for me…
Until the day I met him, and he became everything worth fighting for.
To my family and friends for always supporting me and being there for me when I need you most.
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❤︎
Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Bella Emy
Follow Bella
Introduction
Fighting for Us is the first book of the
Love is Worth Fighting For Series.
For more information on the series, please visit www.BellaEmy.com
or CLICK HERE
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Chapter One
Lorenzo
I sit at my wife’s side in a plastic chair, holding on to her hand. We’ve been like this for hours, but there’s been no response from her whatsoever. I let out a deep sigh; there is nothing else I can do with this hand of cards we’ve been dealt. This is our life now, and as much as I wish things were different, I know no amount of wishing or praying can save us.
I rub my thumb over her small hand again and again, hoping to get any kind of response. But there’s nothing. Not a twitch, not a jerk. Her tiny hand rests motionless in my large one.
Sylvia is a petite woman, and I have always towered over her. With me being an ex-Navy SEAL, she used to call me her lion. She always used to say I could protect her from anything.
And of course, I could have.
Except this.
I hang my head low as the depressing realization of something completely out of my control takes over. I hate myself for not being able to save her. I hate myself for letting her down. As her partner, I should be able to help her, to make her feel happy and safe once more, but she’s so far gone, nothing I do will bring her back to me the way she used to be.
I can’t protect her.
I can’t save her.
I can’t heal her pain.
I’m worthless to her. What good is being her husband, a retired man in uniform, if I can’t protect the one I love? It doesn’t make any sense. Me sitting here beside her, not able to do a damn thing to help this fucking situation, is pissing me off.
The nurses come in every so often to check her vitals, but there is no change in her condition. I hang my head down once they’re gone, and I pray in silence.
Yeah, prayers… like they have done me any good. It’s been months, yet nothing has changed.
Sylvia has been hanging on by a thread, fighting for her life. And of course, everything hit us at once: we got married three years ago after dating for five years, had a baby girl just four months ago, and now, for the past two months, she’s been in this damn hospital room fighting every single day for her life. She hasn’t even been able to enjoy motherhood. Lord knows she wanted a baby for as long as I can remember. And then, after just six months of trying, BAM! Two pink lines on a pregnancy test confirmed we were expecting our first bundle of joy. Little did we know Gianna would be our only child together.
Sylvia was the happiest preggo around. Her pregnancy went well, although it wasn’t a piece of cake. With complicated medical history on her side, we had a few scares, but bed rest and multiple doctor visits had helped get her through.
Anyway, fast forward to August sixteenth of this past year, and out came little Gianna Michelle Trevano. She was a healthy six-pound–five-ounce baby girl with her mother’s piercing blue eyes and cute button nose and my smile. I’d seen Sylvia in the happiest of times, but none of those moments compared to the radiating smile on her face the moment they placed Gianna into her arms. The picture we had taken of her at that moment is the wallpaper on my phone.
When October rolled along, Sylvia started complaining of headaches. She’d lie down for a few hours while I took care of Gianna. Well, sooner rather than later, hours turned to days and days turned to weeks, and that was when I brought her in to see a doctor. Her headaches were getting longer and occurring more frequently. Something was up; I just knew it.
I had no idea it would be this.
/> And now, in the middle of December, my beautiful Sylvia is barely hanging on. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. She used to wake up for minutes at a time, but when she did, she would scream and cry out in pain. She’s lost a vast amount of weight in such a short amount of time. Her once full golden locks are now limp strands of a washed out, faded yellow. Her voice hoarse, her cheeks barren… She’s dying, and I’m dying alongside her.
What kind of life is this without her? She was supposed to be my forever, my one true love, and now? Now she’s being ripped away from me, and I can’t take it.
To see her suffering like this breaks my heart. And to think, I have a baby girl at home who needs her. Gia needs her mother. I can’t raise my daughter on my own. I’m scared, and I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m thankful for my parents and siblings who are with Gianna while I’ve been here alone, wondering again if today is the day I have to say good-bye to my wife forever.
I snap my head up and look at the ceiling. As I shake my head, the rage inside me feels as though it wants to rip through these damn four walls. I’m tired of being here, tired of having to stay in this room, waiting for the worst. I want to take Sylvia home so we can be with our baby girl, so we can be a family again. I want her to be better, and I want our life back.
But it’s not coming back. Not after what the doctors are telling us. She’s hanging on by a thread, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s taken from me. We’re never going back to the way things should be, and she’s never coming back to me. She’s never going to open her eyes and look at me with her warm, caring smile ever again.
A tear falls from my eye as realization kicks in. I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t want to.
I’m twenty-eight years old. How can it be possible that I’m about to lose her? We had our whole lives planned. We were supposed to grow old together. This… This fucking nightmare was never in the plans we had set out for one another.
More tears cascade down my cheeks. This is a damn horror movie, not my life. I hang my head and grab it on both sides.
“You hanging in there, sugar?”
I snap my head up, wiping my cheek, at the sound of one of the night nurses coming into the room. Cynthia, a sixty-five-year-old widow and mother of three, is our regular nurse on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Originally from the South, she moved up to New Jersey when her husband passed a few years ago.
“Hi, Cynthia,” I respond, running a hand through my thick, dark hair. “How’s she doing?”
Cynthia checks my wife’s pulse, then takes her temperature. She frowns. “No change. You getting any sleep?”
“Sure.” I lie, and she knows it.
She throws me a look confirming she’s aware I’m fibbing, and I shrug. “How can I sleep?”
Cynthia nods. “Listen, baby. I know what you’re going through better than anyone else, but you need to take care of yourself and be there for little Gia. We’re here for Sylvia… You know she’s in good hands.”
I nod in return. “I know… It’s just difficult.”
She writes something on Sylvia’s chart and turns to face me once more. “Oh, I know it is, sugar. But you can’t let this beat you down. Sylvia needs you to keep your promise.”
“Promise?” I question with furrowed brows.
Cynthia folds her arms across her chest. “Well, of course, baby. The moment she got pregnant with your daughter, you both made a promise to one another that you’d be there and step up should something happen to one of you. It’s your turn to step up and make sure you’re putting your baby girl first.”
“I’m trying, but I don’t want to leave my wife’s side… especially not now.”
“I know that, sugar. I’m not saying to leave right now. I know how crucial her condition is at this moment. But when you can sneak in some shut eye, you’ve got to try to. And that’s the first step of how you can be there for Gianna.” She throws me another knowing look.
I nod once more. She walks up to Sylvia, places a hand on her forehead, and tells me she’ll be back in a few hours.
Once she’s gone, I pull out my cell phone from my pocket. It’s just after eleven. I decide to text my brother, Massimo, or Max as we call him, to see how things are going at my house.
Me: How’s it going? Gianna asleep?
Max: She just went down not too long ago… had woken up cuz she was wet. I’m glad Marianna is here with me cuz I still can’t change a diaper for the life of me LOL.
I chuckle to myself, reading my brother’s response.
Me: LOL. One day you’ll have your own kids. One day you’ll learn.
Max: Yeah, not for now! Gigi’s more than enough! How’s Sylvs?
I frown at the mention of the nickname he’d given my wife the moment I told him about her.
Me: No change.
I can’t bear to add anything further. I can’t bear to tell him I’m on the verge of a fucking breakdown.
Max: Shit.
I’m about to compose a reply when a blaring sound from the ventilator my wife is hooked up to goes off. Something’s not right. My eyes meet the machine, and there, right before my eyes, a green horizontal line confirms my worst nightmare.
I jump to my feet, screaming my wife’s name.
It’s as if what happens next is a scene from a movie.
Everything slows.
Nurses and doctors rush in to be at Sylvia’s side.
“Sugar, come with me,” Cynthia demands, placing an arm over my shoulder. She wills me out of the room with my head swimming between fighting against her and wanting to them to help. “Come on, baby… You can’t stay here…”
Tears fall from the corners of my eyes yet again as fear grips the back of my throat. “N-no, I… I…”
Doctors crowd around Sylvia and place resuscitators on her chest, then try desperately to bring her back.
They try and fail miserably each time.
Oh my God, this can’t be it.
This can’t be the day I lose my wife.
“No! I have to stay with my wife…. Sylvia, oh God, sweetheart!” Tears continue streaming down my face.
Cynthia pulls me into an embrace, and I let everything out onto her shoulder. “Shhh, I know, baby… I know,” she says, rubbing my back.
I can’t stop the tears, but when I finally do, it’s hours later, and my Sylvia, my darling wife, is gone.
Chapter Two
Lorenzo
Five years later…
I toss my bag over my shoulder, and right as I’m about to exit the locker room, Ryker throws a white piece of cloth at me. I grab it just in time to realize it’s his sweaty undershirt. Dude is nasty, but he’s my best friend. Still, I scowl and drop it to the floor, throwing him a glare. He’s chuckling.
“Just testing your reflexes, man,” he says, slamming his locker shut.
“Yeah, yeah. Keep that shit up and you’ll be testing something else,” I warn.
He leans against his locker, folding his arms. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?”
I walk over to him and shove two fingers against his chest. “That if you don’t watch it…” I point toward the doors leading to the main area of the gym. “You’ll find yourself in that ring with me. And it won’t be for practice.” Just beyond those very doors is the octagon ring where we practice for events.
Ryker has never faced me in any event, but we practice together all the time. I’m glad because how are you supposed to fight your best friend? I’d kill him. I can’t help it that my record is almost flawless. Every match I’ve been in, besides the first one from when I started, I’ve been undefeated. But hey, it’s all right. I’m planning on getting my revenge on Dennis “The Big Shot” Mavis at the next chance I get. I’ll have my turn. I’ll get my belt and the cash that goes with it too.
Hell, I deserve something for everything I’ve been through. At least I found a good way to channel my inner anger. I could’ve turned out to be an
alcoholic deadbeat dad. But I’m not.
“Lorenzo Trevano, it would be an honor to rumble with you inside the cage,” Ryker says, finally picking up his undershirt.
Ryker and I will both be fighting in the upcoming event. It’s the biggest one of the year, and although we are not fighting against each other, the two of us will be giving it our all to win.
I chuckle and head toward the door. “Don’t forget to shut off the lights and lock up on your way out. I’ll catch you later, Ryke.”
“Later,” he responds.
I walk out of the building, and the chill in the air hits my cheeks. It feels good. The cold, late-November wind blows, whooshing through the area. After working up a sweat during practice, the cool breeze is a nice welcome.
I unlock the doors of my black four-seater pickup truck and throw my bag in the back as I hop in behind the wheel. With my buckle clasped and my mirrors checked, I start on my way home.
It’s after eleven at night, but this is my norm. We’re getting ready for the next UFC meet, which is in a few days, and I’m psyched. I’m so ready to get inside that cage and go head-to-head with my opponents. There’s nothing like the rush I get when that bell rings and it’s go time. Nothing.