Mr. July: An MMA Sports Romance (Calendar Boys Book 7)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  I’m all too aware.

  I’m probably already a dead man walking if I’m honest.

  “You ready?” he questions me.

  I nod.

  I don’t know if he means to get out of here, or for the fight, or to get the girl back, but whichever it is, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ramsey

  “Why do you look like that?” Juliet frowns at me as I shuffle into the kitchen.

  “I feel sick,” I moan.

  “You look like shit.” She rakes her eyes over me, head to toe.

  “Are you bleeding? I feel faint.” I drop into a chair in a feeble attempt to settle my swirling head and gurgling stomach.

  “There’s no blood here.”

  “I feel like I’m—” I clutch my stomach. “I’m gonna—”

  I rush to the sink and throw up noisily.

  I feel Juliet come up behind me and turn the tap on to wash the stench away, and I feel her dabbing at my forehead with something cool.

  “Oh god,” I groan once I’ve emptied the contents of my stomach. “I’m swearing off ice cream for life, that last tub must have been bad.”

  She steers me around by the shoulders and sits me down in a chair.

  “What’s the time?” I ask as I wipe my mouth on the tissue she’s offered me.

  She glances at her cell. “Eleven. You slept forever.”

  I’m not surprised, I feel like shit.

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I had one clinic appointment today, so I got Sophie to cover it for me. I’ve been worried about you all morning.”

  “Don’t tell Justin you’ve got the day off; he’ll drag you to the fight tonight.”

  “Speaking of… the tickets arrived about nine.” She points to the closed envelope on the table.

  My stomach rolls again.

  I’m not using those. No freaking way.

  I glance up at Juliet and she’s watching me closely.

  “Get dressed and get in the car,” she instructs suddenly.

  “What, why? Where are we going?”

  “To the doctor.”

  I wave her concerns off. “It’s probably just food poisoning. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope.” She shakes her head, letting out a deep sigh.

  “What do you mean, nope? Why can’t I have food poisoning?”

  “Oh, you can, but I’m fairly sure you’re pregnant.”

  My mouth drops open. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You know, with child.”

  “I know the definition of pregnant, Jules, for the love of god, I’m not an idiot, but I can’t be knocked up… I just can’t be… I’m only twenty-one.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s irrelevant,” she says with a roll of her eyes and an impatient tap of her foot.

  “But I can’t be,” I mutter to myself. “Why the hell do you think that?”

  “You’re nauseous, tired and I haven’t seen any of those little plastic tampon wrapper thingys that you’re not meant to flush floating in the toilet bowl for weeks now.”

  She’s right. I missed my period and I’ve been too depressed to even notice.

  “But we used a condom,” I breathe, suddenly feeling a whole different type of sick.

  “Two words – fighter sperm.”

  “That’s not even funny.” I groan.

  “I wasn’t kidding. Look at the guy – his sperm are bound to be bad-asses.”

  This can’t be happening.

  She’s wrong. She has to be.

  She works with animals, not people – she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

  “Only one way to find out,” she says, as though she can read my thoughts.

  “Shit.”

  She’s right. And unfortunately for me, it involves me peeing on a stick.

  ***

  “You know, I’m not sure you’re meant to take that with you.” She looks at the pee-covered stick that’s sealed safely in a zip lock bag in disgust. “It’s gross.”

  I don’t know why I brought it with me.

  The two pink lines are taunting me.

  I’m hardly going to take it around to Hudson’s house and hand it to him with a note saying ‘congratulations soon-to-be daddy’.

  Jesus Christ, what a mess.

  I’m twenty-one years old, which isn’t going to be the youngest mother in town, but it’s still young enough, and to boot, I’m pregnant to my brother’s best mate who happens to be a professional, scary-as-hell fighter.

  “You’re probably not wrong,” I reply numbly as I stuff it into my bag.

  I twist my charm bracelet around my wrist, pausing every time I get to the boxing glove charm he got for me. I guess I’ll need a baby carriage one next.

  We continue the drive in silence but I can tell she’s dying to speak.

  “What are you going to do?” she finally asks.

  I shrug. “Just pretend it was food poisoning after all?” I offer weakly.

  Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m going to do, other than the fact that I know I’m keeping it.

  This baby is mine.

  Whether or not its dad wants to be in the picture is another situation entirely.

  Part of me wishes I’d never met Hudson Scott, but the rest of me couldn’t be gladder.

  I groan. I’m going to have to tell him, and sooner rather than later.

  In fact, I wish I could just call him up and get it out of the way right now, but I’ll never be able to reach him the day of his fight.

  We talked about everything over those few weeks before we slept together, so I know his pre-fight routine like it was my own.

  He barely talks to anyone the day of a fight.

  He’ll have his phone switched to flight mode so nothing comes in or out, and he’ll have headphones on, blasting music to get him in the zone.

  His circle is small, only Justin, Owen and Randy will be allowed access to the same room he’s in.

  He allows no press, no interviews, no fans.

  This time is his.

  “I’ll tell him tomorrow,” I murmur, to myself or Juliet, I’m not sure.

  We pull up outside the house and I sigh.

  It’s the same house it was an hour ago, but everything is different now.

  I didn’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders then, like I do now.

  I didn’t have a list of midwifes and clinics clutched in my hand when I walked out that door, but I do now.

  I may have had this tiny life growing inside of me then, but I didn’t know about it like I do now.

  I reach down and lay my hand across my stomach.

  I can’t believe I’m going to be a mother.

  I’m only a few weeks along, they used a sensitive early detection kit, but there’s no denying those two pink lines.

  Juliet unlocks the front door, and I walk inside like I’m in a dream.

  Nothing feels real.

  I find myself in the kitchen, sitting at the table, but I don’t even remember walking here.

  I look down at my hands and I’m holding the envelope Justin had sent over.

  I turn it over in my hands and slide my finger through the flap to open it.

  I can hear Juliet rambling on about god only knows what, but my attention is solely on the envelope in my hands.

  I open it and tug on the contents.

  There are two tickets, as promised, but with it are two garlands with backstage access passes attached.

  I glance up at Jules, but she’s busy making me a cup of tea by the looks and talking about buying some decaf coffee when she goes to the store.

  I look back to the items in my hand and my eye catches on a folded sheet of paper, tucked between the tickets.

  I hold it in my shaky hands.

  It’s from him – I bet it is.

  Justin isn’t a note-writing kind of guy – no matter how deep he might be getting with my best friend.

 
; It could be from Rusty or Beast, but it’d be likely to have a penis doodled on it if that were the case.

  “Are you gonna open that, or just stare at it all afternoon?” Juliet demands, snapping me out of my daze.

  She’s sitting opposite me; my steaming cup of tea is on the table between us.

  “What if it says he never wants to see me again?”

  She snorts out a laugh. “Right, I bet that’s what it says, along with tickets and VIP passes to his fight… because that seems like perfect logic.”

  “Alright, alright, know it all,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

  I flip the note open and my heart flutters at the sight of the scrawl of his writing.

  I’m so screwed. Even his handwriting fills me with desire.

  I swallow deeply and allow myself to read it.

  Pinky,

  I won’t ask you to come, I’m bound to bleed and we all know how that goes, but I wanted you to know that I want you there.

  Fuck I miss you.

  We need to talk.

  We need to do a lot of things.

  I’ll call you when this is done.

  -H

  We have so much to talk about. He literally has no idea just how much.

  “Well?” Juliet asks impatiently.

  “He wants me there,” I whisper as I fold the note back in half, only to unfold it and read it all again.

  He wants me there.

  I don’t know what to do with this information.

  “Of course he does,” Juliet remarks. “That man is in love with you, Ramsey. I don’t know how you can’t see that.”

  “I dunno, maybe it’s the fact that I heard him with my own ears saying that falling in love with me was never going to happen, or maybe it was the sight of a girl he used to hook up with clutching his bare chest that did it for me,” I reply, sarcasm thick in my tone.

  She sighs. “I love you, girl, I really do, but I think you’re being stupid. This isn’t an easy situation to begin with – what if that was Justin he was talking to? What would you expect him to say? To confess he’d just come from your bed without even talking to you about it first?”

  I shrug. She’s making sense and it’s making me feel like crap.

  “And that bitch was a shit stirrer and you know it – even if they were together that night, which I doubt happened at all – you’d already pushed him away. It’s not like he would have been cheating.”

  “So what am I meant to do?” I demand, my voice rising an octave. “You think I should go? Turn up to his fight and tell him that I’m in love with him?”

  I slam my palm down on the table top in frustration.

  Juliet grins widely. “About time you admitted that out loud.”

  I groan and rest my forehead against the table. “You win… I’m in love with him. I love him and it’s all messed up and Justin is going to flip, and now there’s a baby and what the fuck am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to get dressed into something killer, and then we’re going to watch a fight.”

  I groan again.

  I had a feeling that’s what she was going to say.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Hudson

  The intricate melody washes over me, my pulse thrumming in time to the heavy beat.

  My eyes are closed, my brain running through the combos over and over again.

  There’s an hour until go time.

  I picture my opponent in my mind. I imagine him falling to the canvas, landing like the heavy sack of shit he’s bound to be.

  I don’t have the advantage out there today, not weight wise anyway.

  He could have put on more than five pounds overnight after our weigh in.

  The dude is massive.

  But I’m fast, strong and lean.

  I’m not going to bow down and be the easy beat he’s expecting, that’s for damn sure.

  I feel someone nudge my shoulder and I open my eyes.

  Justin, Randy and Owen are all standing around me.

  Gang’s all here.

  I tug the headphones from my ears and hit pause on my playlist.

  I hand them to Owen, and he sits them down on the table opposite me.

  “Let’s get those hands wrapped and then we’ll get you warmed up.”

  I nod.

  Justin drags a chair over and sits directly in front of me, a pair of hand wraps in his hands.

  I’m sitting backwards in my chair, my wrists resting on the highest point of the chair so he has easy access.

  He begins with my left hand, wrapping the fabric down my wrist and then back up again before wrapping it around my palm. My thumb is next and then my fingers.

  The only thing between the skin on my knuckles and my opponent’s body is these thin layers of fabric and my four-ounce MMA gloves.

  It’s nothing, but it’s a hell of a lot more than the rest of my body gets.

  “You feeling good?” Justin asks, his eyes trained on what he’s doing to my hands.

  “I feel ready.” I nod.

  He doesn’t reply. He’s knows I’m not much of a talker when I’m prepping for a fight.

  I have no fucking idea if I’ll come out of this thing on top, but I’ll give it my best shot, that much I know for certain.

  I’ve trained harder for this than I ever have for anything in my life.

  He finishes with my left hand and I lift my right.

  He repeats the action all over again as Owen starts kneading at my shoulders.

  They’re tight, tensed and ready to go.

  I’ve never been quite this strong or powerful.

  Sonny is going to be in for a surprise.

  I bounce my knee, my favourite pair of MMA shorts sliding up and down my thigh.

  The nerves are kicking in and I welcome them. It’s all part of my process.

  I hear someone stumble and I look up to the door with a scowl.

  Whoever it is should know better than to be in here right now, but when my eyes land on her pink hair, shock replaces my irritation.

  I’m so stunned by the sight of her beautiful face and sexy body that I can’t speak.

  “Ramsey?” Justin says quickly, flying to his feet. “What are you doing back here?”

  Her eyes widen as she looks between me and her brother, her cheeks blushing scarlet.

  “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come in. I’ll see you guys later.”

  She turns and rushes from the doorway, and I’m out of my seat and following her before I even think about it.

  Justin reaches out and catches my arm. “We need to get you warmed up.”

  I shrug him off and carry on towards the door. “I just want five minutes to see if she’s okay.”

  I don’t look back over my shoulder to see his reaction, because frankly, I don’t care what he thinks about me chasing Ramsey.

  Like taking this fight, it’s just something I have to do.

  I don’t hear anyone following me, and I’m fucking grateful for that; I’m not exactly in the mood for minding my words.

  “Ramsey,” I call after her retreating frame, my voice a hoarse growl.

  She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, her expression mortified, but she doesn’t stop.

  She spins back around, already moving faster and crashes straight into one of the servers from the bar.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, as she falls to the ground, her bag contents spilling all over the hallway.

  I jog to her and reach for her elbow to help her sit up.

  “I’m so sorry,” the server apologises profusely.

  “It’s okay,” Ramsey says at the same time I say, “Just go.”

  He takes one look at me and scarpers back to wherever he came from.

  “Pinky,” I breathe as she looks up at me, her golden eyes still wide as saucers. “You came.”

  She drops her gaze and starts reaching around for the contents of her bag. “I’m sorry, I should have known you were busy, I just wanted to tell
you that I was here… that I got your note…” she mutters as she stuffs lipsticks, pens and all kinds of other shit back into her huge bag.

  I can feel my heart thumping in my chest.

  This isn’t what I need right now, but I can’t walk away from her again, not like this.

  I start picking things up and passing them to her.

  I hear her gasp and I glance down at the thing being passed between her hand and mine.

  My heart rate increases.

  It’s a pregnancy test. A positive one.

  “Is that…”

  “Hudson,” she says, her voice no more than a whisper.

  “Is that…” I try again, but still fail. “Are you…”

  She scrambles to her feet, tugging the positive pregnancy test from my hand.

  “You’re pregnant?” I demand as I stand.

  She looks up at me, tears pooling in her eyes and nods. “I only found out today,” she whispers.

  “Is it mine?”

  She drops her gaze, but I’m not having it, I grip her chin and force her eyes back to mine.

  “Is. That. Baby. Mine?”

  She nods again, and I feel myself release a breath. I don’t know if I’m more shocked or relieved.

  I’m going to be a father but given that she’s going to be our baby’s mother, the idea doesn’t seem to be knocking me the way it should be.

  “I’m sorry,” she says again, and the tone in her voice almost breaks my heart. “We didn’t mean for this to happen… we used protection…”

  “Ramsey.”

  “I don’t know how it happened…” she continues. “If you don’t want any part of it, I totally understand.”

  “You didn’t just say that,” I growl, my eyes narrowing.

  A lone tear slides down her cheek and the need to make it go away threatens to overwhelm me.

  “I won’t force you to do something you’re not ready for, you can have as little or as much involvement as you want… god I’m so sorry.”

  I’ve really done a number on this woman.

  Here she is, standing in front of me, telling me I’m about to become a father, and she’s scared, terrified even of the fact that I might not want anything to do with her or my baby.