Page 46 of Always Love You More

People are shouting my name, but their voices sound muffled. I shake my head to try to clear the fog.

My mouth still tastes like coppery blood mixed with sweat, and before Ryan can grab my hand, I turn to spit.

He pulls my arm up above my head, and I fight back a wince. The crowd grows even louder from the show of victory.

I struggle to keep my head high. All I want to do is go find a quiet corner. To sit down. To be alone.

Ryan leans into me. “That was one hell of a show, kid. I didn’t think you were gonna get up this time.”

I lean away from him, and he takes the hint, dropping my hand.

“You have my money?”

He gives me a quick nod and jerks his head to follow him.

I look around for Marcus or my old man but don’t see them, which is weird because they usually hover around me during fights.

When I went down, I saw my father’s face and heard him yelling, but when I glanced back at where he’d been standing, he wasn’t there.

I push the thought away and follow Ryan. He’s quick to pull the money together, and once he hands it over, I shove the bills into my front pocket.

“Gotta go,” he tells me. “Next fight starts in five.”

I try to make a lap around the room, but it’s too crowded to get far and I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself up.

After making it outside, I find an overturned crate and slowly lower myself onto it.

Just a minute. I’ll just sit for a minute.

I let my eyes close and focus on breathing. It hurts so bad I think that asshole might’ve cracked a rib.

“Jameson?”

My eyes snap open at the familiar voice.

Sam drops to her knees in front of me. “Oh my God, Jameson. Are you okay?”

I start to stand, but she puts her hand on my knee, and I freeze.

“Don’t try to get up.”

“Why are you …?” I shake my head. “How are you …?” I look down at her hand that’s still on my knee. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She rakes her eyes over me, lingering on the places I feel the most pain. “You—”

Her brother calling her name cuts her off.

I didn’t even notice he was here. But it makes sense. How else would she have gotten here?

His gaze is hard, attention focused on something behind me. I know what he’s looking at before I even hear my father’s voice.

“Go to your brother,” I force out.

Her face is pleading, almost desperate, but she stands and takes a few steps back.

A minute later, my father is in front of me, Marcus just behind him. I turn, expecting to see Big Jim walking up, too—he was here at the start of the fight—but the space behind me is empty.

My father doesn’t acknowledge Sam or Johnny before closing the distance between us. I pull my head back to look up at him and wish I didn’t when I see what’s staring back at me.