Page 117 of Forever Fighting
These past couple of weeks since we returned from Mexico have been great for us. Now it feels like she’s yet another thing I have no control over about to slip through my hands.
“Don’t give up on me yet, kid.”
The lights dim and the announcer gets started with his spiel. That’s my cue and I wipe the sweat on my brow and running down my back. Adam is shouting about something behind me, but I block him and everything else out.
I have to get through this. I don’t have a choice.
This can only go one way for me. If it doesn’t, shit will go down and it won’t be good.
“Fight!” The announcer jumps out of the way, and Curtis, my opponent, immediately comes at me. Except he doesn’t go for my face. He ducks and loops around me and goes for my back. For my kidney.
He gets a blow in that has me staggering three steps. The crowd goes nuts. I never get hit like that. Not so soon and never a hit that hard on my backside. Searing pain radiates up through my spine and down into the back of my legs. I hear him coming at me again and I spin around a second before he lands another shot to the same spot and slam my fist straight into his face.
His nose shatters, and blood spurts out everywhere. He had that coming for being part of this.
He doesn’t go down, but he does stumble back, only to regroup and come straight for me. He lands a punch to my ribs, followed by my face. This continues. Him wailing on me, and me throwing random, but effective punches. The guy is a bruiser. Heavy yet agile. If he were fighting fair, it might actually be a good match.
But he’s not.
He’s fighting me with intelligence he shouldn’t have except for the fact that he was tipped off by my ex-best friend.
Round one ends, and I slink over to the corner instead of joining Brae, Forest, and Hayes as I typically do. We don’t do trainers here, but I take a sip of water while physically taking stock of my injuries.
Round two starts, going exactly as round one did. I hit the ground this time, my lungs on fire, my muscles screaming, and my bones aching in a way they never have before. I can’t look at Braelyn, but I hear her screaming out and gasping, and I hate that she’s having to see this. This is the thing she feared the most, and it’s happening right in front of her and I can’t protect her from it.
The rounds continue, one after the other, filled with blood and sweat.
By the fifth round, I’m wrecked. Curtis isn’t great, but he’s not as bad off as I am. Out of the corner of my eye, Seamus gives me the signal, and I release a breath, my insides collapsing on me.
Curtis comes at me, his fist already flying, aiming for the knockout shot, and he hits my face with precision. My right cheekbone cracks, and my mouth pools with blood. Thankfully, he didn’t knock out a tooth, but it doesn’t matter much.
My vision sways and pops, and before I know what’s happening, I’m going down. Hard. I hit the cement just as the announcer starts to count toward a knockout and my loss.
37
BRAELYN
Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. Is he sick? Hurt? I don’t know, but he was covered in sweat, and his face was all red when he came over to me. He didn’t look right. Not like Roman. Even like that, his focus was on me, and when he brushed my finger over where his tattoo is hidden beneath his tape, I decided there’s a very real explanation for those pictures.
Roman isn’t Adam, who is drunk and belligerent, shouting directives toward this Curtis guy like an angry parent on the sideline of their kid’s soccer game.
Roman, my Roman, wouldn’t cheat. He loves me. I know he does. That’s all there is to it.
But I don’t know what to do with this.
Roman is getting the shit beat out of him, and Roman doesn’t do that. Is it because of me? Because he wasn’t training as hard as he typically would because he was spending so much time with me instead?
Curtis lands another blow to Roman’s back, and I let out a cry I can’t suppress, tucking my face into Hayes’s chest. His arm wraps around me, and he holdsme tight.
“It’s okay, Brae. He’s tough.”
I grasp his shirt in my fist. “What the hell is going on? Can they call the match? Make it stop before he gets really hurt?”
“They can’t.” Forest puts his hand on my shoulder. “Just stay like that and don’t watch.”
“Don’t watch?” I parrot incredulously. Meaning don’t watch Roman get knocked around the ring like a rag doll. Jesus. He’s done. He has to be done after this. I don’t have stuff with me. Just my bag of basics that I always bring to clean up a cut or two. I don’t have anything major, and Katy and Bennett have a new baby, so if he needs surgery… if he’s bleeding internally… I stop myself there with a sob I bite my lip to suppress.
He’s so grounded for this. So freaking grounded. After he explains the photographs, he’s going to promise he’s never boxing again.
