One month later...
"Get it together, West!"
Damn. I shake my head forcefully to chase off the dizziness. That was one hard fucking blow I just took. This guy is the strongest opponent I've ever faced, that's for sure. He has one hell of a hook and reflexes that are intimidating beyond belief. My nerves are getting the best of me and now I'm taking hits that, in hindsight, I know I'm capable of avoiding.
My world shifts once again and goes blurry. It takes a couple of seconds to register the pain on my jaw and I curse under my breath when it finally kicks in. The fucker got me. Again. I back up several steps so that I can gather myself and not be in arms reach of my opponent while I do it. He's kicking my ass badly enough without me making it easy for him. I swipe a forearm over my mouth and a smear of red greets me when I take a look. I can feel my lip gradually swelling. I guess it'll pair nicely with the bruise on my left eye.
The ref calls the round and I exhale roughly in equal parts frustration and relief. I think this is going to be the first match I'll lose since going pro. We're already on round nine and my points are nowhere near his.
As soon as my ass lands on the metal chair the crew has prepared for me, Coach steps in front of me and promptly rips me a new one.
"This is a match you could have won, West, and you know it. You've had it easy so far because you're that good. This is the first opponent that's really tested your limits and you let that get to your head. You let doubt creep in. He didn't defeat you. You defeated yourself."
I flinch and hang my head low between my shoulders. He isn't telling me anything I don't already know but it still hurts like a bitch to have to hear it,
"I'm sorry, Coach." I mumble.
There's a still moment before I feel his hand on my shoulder. I'm still too ashamed to look him in the face. "Losses happen, son. They're inevitable. But they have to mean something. Either you can learn from them or grow an ego in the face of them. Let it humble you no matter how much it stings. If this match did that for you then it isn't entirely a loss."
I jerk my head in agreement but it's all I can offer. There's a stone lodged in my throat and I can't trust myself to speak just yet. Coach knows as good as I do that this is over for me. This one doesn't belong to me.
At least I'm humbled, like he said.
A cool cloth is pressed to my forehead and droplets of water stream down my face. I hope the few tears I wasn't able to stop from spilling over blend in with them.
I'm prepped and ready just as the ref calls the final round. My opponent has a smirk on his face that I'm tempted to knock the fuck off but I remind myself to keep a cool head. This match may be as good as done but that doesn't mean I have to end on a shitty note too. I need to stay level-headed and do my best so people can at least see that I tried. I channel all the training Coach has given me these past few months into my mind and focus on just that. I'm going to make this a round to remember.
My opponent, Craig Fletcher, throws a right jab to the side of my face but I dodge it just in time and duck. Just as quick, my own arm shoots out and I clock him in the stomach with a left straight. He doubles over instantly and clutches his middle. His arms are down for a couple of seconds that I don't miss the opportunity to take advantage of. Lightening fast, I throw punch after punch until I'm pummelling the ever-loving fuck out of his cocky face. He crosses his wrists so that his hands are protecting his head as much as possible but right now I'm a force to be reckoned with. The dipshit is so consumed with one part of his body that he leaves the rest wide open.
I bring a knee up and slam it into his rib cage and his hands instinctively grip my knee. I punch his jaw and he staggers to the side, holding onto it like I suspected he might. That leaves him vulnerable once again and I go back to lodging my knee into hit gut one, two, three times. He falls back on his ass and crab-walks away from me until his back hits the cage and he's got nowhere to go.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Coach's faint cheers are barely coherent over the roaring crowd.
I'm breathing hard but it's more so from pure adrenaline than fatigue. I'm fucking back, baby.
Fletcher stands up again and staggers slightly, watching me with wide eyes that can't mask both the confusion and fear I see in them. In this round alone my game has completely changed and thrown him off guard. I can use this to my advantage. Even though I can't win at this point, this round is going to be one the crowd remembers.
His arms are back in fighting position but I don't miss how they're slightly shaking now.
"You're still winning this one, man." I call out to him.
His brows draw together like he can't understand why I'm being nice. Truthfully I'm just trying to calm him down because it's no fun fighting someone whose distraught is a liability to their skill. He's a damn good fighter and that's who I want to face. Not this suddenly scared version of him.
I know I said the right thing when his face contorts into sheer determination and he charges right for me. I grin and clench my fists, more than ready. He jabs at me and I throw my head to the side so that he only catches air. I grab his arm, now poised right over my shoulder, and yank him down with all my strength. He lands on his side and I'm on him before he can even blink. One of my punches lands on his eye and I can tell by the way he flinches with his whole body that he'll have one hell of a shiner tomorrow.
"We match." I tell him, pointing at my own eye.
He's not amused. He growls and sits up, a jab catching me swiftly in the gut. I grunt with surprise and have no time to recover. In a second, he's got me on my back and a right hook on the underside of my jaw snaps my head up. I blindly swing an arm but don't manage to hit anything. I push up with my torso and use my legs to knock him off of me. I straighten up in time to see him on all fours trying to stand up. I launch myself at him and grab him around his waist from behind. His arms flail and try to get me off but my hold is strong and steady. I push my weight backwards and Fletcher lands roughly on his back. His face turns an alarming shade of red as he exhales roughly. I've literally knocked the wind out of him and it's the best opportunity I've had this whole match.
"You know what to do, West!" Coach's words tell me we're on the same page.
Fletcher's eyes fly up to mine, wild and hysteric, and I grimace a little.
"Sorry about this, brother." I tell him sincerely.
That's when I use all of my body weight to swing a mean ass right hook on his nose that sends his head back to the floor.
My knuckles vibrate with pain as the arena goes completely quiet for just a second before the crowd erupts in cheers that deafen my ears. The ref counts it and all the while I watch Fletcher with my breath held in anticipation. When the ref gets to seven, Fletcher suddenly jerks and sits up. I can hear the collective groan come from the audience but I just grin, knowing my punch wouldn't knock him out. Like I said, he has killer reflexes and a mind that just won't shut off. However, he's disoriented as fuck and although he hasn't been knocked out he's sure as hell out of it. His head bobs and his eyes blink lazily as if he's about to fall asleep any second. With just a couple of seconds left in the round I take a seat in front of him and watch in mild amusement as he tries to get himself together and fails repeatedly.
"I think West might have knocked his soul out of his body." One of the announcers says and my lip twitches briefly. Fletcher didn't KO but the announcer has a point because he looks about ready to fall into a coma and I know he's fighting against the will to collapse. "I would not want to be on the receiving side of his fist."
With that final assessment, the ref calls the end of the round and the end of the match. Fletcher's eyes finally dim and lose their fight before rolling to the back of his head. His head falls back to the floor and this time it stays there. Now he's KO'd. He put up a good battle making sure he wouldn't while the match was still happening, I'll give him that. I smile and pat his leg just for it.
I stand up and face the audience, my eyes grazing over all the signs and the lights and the mouths screaming my name. The feeling is surreal and I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I watch the jumbotron, my face displayed on it, and wink at the cameras. A noticeable increase in female screams makes me chuckle and I saunter to the edge of the cage. I climb the fences until I reach the top and throw one leg over to straddle it and balance my weight. I blow kisses to all directions of the crowd and pump both my fists in the air. It's not a victory for me but it feels like it because of those who believe in me. I catch Coach's eye and he shakes his head at me. I'm naturally a camera person whereas Jax wasn't so he's had to adjust to the fact that I love to bask in my glory. I thump one fist on my chest, on the spot over my heart, and point it to him. He glares at me when the camera's turn his way because of what I did but sheepishly waves at the crowd that has taken to chanting his name instead of mine.
"Ain't he sexy?" I yell as loud as I can.
One of the mics must have picked it up because the females in the audience go even more insane for him than they did for me. All I can do is throw my head back in laughter when Coach actually fucking blushes and ducks his head away from view.
"And the winner is Craig Fletcher!" The announcer speaks into his mic.
The crowd boos and I frown at them. I wave a hand at one of the cameramen and usher at his microphone. He hands it over to me and I tap the head a couple of times.
"Hey, now." I speak into it, my deep voice booming across the stadium. The audience quiets down but barely. "Fletcher kicked my ass and you all know it. This round might have been one for the books for me but that doesn't change the fact that Fletcher is the baddest fucker I've ever fought. I don't want that negative shit coming from y'all. Clap for my man."
The sound of thunderous applause takes over and I catch a few people chanting "Fletcher" as well. I grin with satisfaction. "That's more like it. Thank you for coming out!"
I hand the cameraman his mic back and he shakes his head at me with amusement. "You sure are somethin' different, son."
I climb down the face outside the ring and clap him on the shoulder when I reach him. "Someone has to be."
We shake his hands and I make my way back to where Coach and the boys are waiting for me.
"You wild motherfucker!" Nate hoots and jumps on my back piggy-back style. I laugh while I try and balance the sudden weight and hold on to his arms that are locked around my neck. "I don't know what was more badass; that punch that made your fist look like it was made of steel or the fact that you vouched for Fletcher against the audience."
"Actually, I think it was my body." I run a hand down my abs for emphasis. "And I bet you agree. Look at you hanging on me like I'm man candy or some shit."
"Really?" His dry response is follow by a swift twhack to my head.
"Great final round, West." Coach shakes my hand when he reaches me. "You learned from your mistakes. You redirected your strategy. You made it one to remember."
"Thanks to your verbal ass kicking." I snort, nudging him with my elbow. "I don't know how the hell you trained Jax with an attitude like his. I'm the nicest guy on the fucking planet and even I get shit from you."
"Cage is a prick." A huge smile takes over his face. "But he's a talented motherfucker that's giving me grandbabies so I can let it slide."
"So I've heard. Congrats are in order. How's Em doing?"
"Perfect, of course. She's a stronger fighter than all of you assholes."
"Can't argue with that." Asher chimes in. "I made a joke about her hormonal attitude and just one glare from her shrunk my balls."
"What balls?" Coach mutters.
Asher's mouth hits the floor and Nate and I burst out laughing, all but toppling on to each other.
"That's rude." Asher sniffs. Coach turns a menacing scowl his way.
"So is calling my daughter a hormonal mess. Want to see how good I am with my fists?"
Asher blanches, holding his hands up in surrender. "I know you're excellent with your fists, sir. I'd like to keep my life if that's okay with you."
"That's what I thought." Coach faces me. "Press time."
"Can I come with?" Nate interrupts.
Both Coach and I turn to face him. "For what?" I ask.
"I don't know. Just thought I'd see the camera stuff in action and how you handle it. You know, in case that'll be me one day. Maybe."
I feel my brows rise. "You want to go pro, Neuter?"
"Stop calling me that." He scowls but averts his gaze nervously. "I said maybe."
I turn to Coach with a small grin and a curious stare. He watches Nate for a few silent beats before nodding his head. "Let's go then."
He takes off in the direction of the reporters while Nate clutches my arm, exhaling a long breath. "Does that mean he'll train me if I go pro? Does he think I can go pro?"
"You know you can, brother." I sling an arm around his neck and lead the way. "You're ambitious as fuck."
And he sure as hell is. I watch him from the side of my eye while I answer all the questions the reporters throw my way. I swear he's fucking taking notes on this. I wonder where all this heat is suddenly coming from. Is it for the money? The fame? I make a point to ask him after I finish up.
When I'm finally able to pull away from the still dissatisfied press, I say parting words to Coach and the boys. Nate sticks around with me and I offer buying him some drinks. He and I have been getting a little closer lately now that Jax is busy with relocating houses and the new baby on the way so it's been nice to have someone around. It's also a good breather because being around Jax means being around Emily and being around Emily means I can't stop thinking about Avery. I sent her all my postcards in one shot, about seven of them, and haven't gotten a response to any as of yet. I know she's busy with the co-op part of her program and I'm sure she'll get back to me eventually because she told Emily she would. But it still stings to think about so space from that drama is highly welcomed.
"Which pub do you wanna hit?" I ask Nate as I roll down the windows. It's early summer and getting hotter each day and nothing feels better than zipping down the highway so you can feel that sweet cool air hit your face in relief.
"You mind if we have our drinks at one of our places instead? I'm not up for the whole bar scene. I spend enough of my time in those."
"Sure, but I swear I rarely see you drink."
"It's more of a late night thing for me."
"Ah. Good time to pick up some chicks, huh?"
"Not so much these days, no." He chuckles under his breath and looks out the window. "My mind is too preoccupied for that."
"Yeah?" I grin, taking one hand off the wheel to slug him in the arm. "Nate's in loooove."
"What? No. I'm not in loove and I never have been. But whatever this is...shit, it's fucking uncharted territory."
"Is she," I bat my eyes innocently. "An Angel?"
He scowls at me with the side of his mouth and I know I've implied the correct girl. I snigger at the colour spreading across his face. "You never struck me as the guy who went for girl-next-door chicks."
"Why not?" He defends. "I can be good for girl-next-door chicks."
"Oh, relax. That's not what I said. I meant your past hook ups have always been wild and untamed, not sweet and reserved."
"Maybe that needs to change." His chin lifts up defiantly.
"Maybe." I agree. "But that's not something you fuck around with."
"It isn't." He nods. "And I don't plan to. Besides, if there's one thing about me it's that I treat women right. Being the big brother to five younger sisters does that to you."
"You have five younger sisters?" I sound as perplexed as I feel. My eyes are probably the size of saucers.
"Yeah. A twin sister, born seven minutes after me, and four other younger ones."
"You have a fucking twin sister? How the hell did none of us know this?" I turn to him when we arrive at a red light.
"Asher does." He looks amused. "He grew up with my family. He's like the brother I never had."
"That explains how close you both are." I say thoughtfully. "How come we've never met them?"
"I don't know. That's just not something Fighter's Den does?"
"Yet another change that should be made." I scoff, jumping in my seat when a horn honks behind me. I press on the pedal and start driving again.
"I can introduce you guys to them if you want. But they're my little sisters and I'm not crazy about them coming face to face with you horny goons."
"Half of us are taken, brother. The only ones you'd have to worry about are Wolfe or Asher."
"Or just Wolfe. My sisters are like Asher's sisters too."
I don't say anything about that point. I wonder if that's really the case because it usually isn't. I don't want Nate strangling me though so I don't add anything on to that.
"Are they hot?" I can't resist badgering him.
I yelp and hold my pec securely, not even seeing that purple-nurple coming. "You fuckface!"
"You deserve it." He leans back in his seat with a laugh.
"Probably." I relent, sighing as I turn the corner that leads to my street. "My hookups have been shitty, anyways. There was this one chick I was with a couple days ago who was way too excited to get associated with my dick and I just kept thinking 'girl, have you never seen a penis?' because she literally pulled mine out of my boxers and squealed like a-"
"Who's that?" Nate cuts me off.
"Who's who?" I crane my neck to try and get a view of what he sees.
"Sitting on your porch swing. That's fucking creepy."
"Yeah." I mumble distractedly as I squint and try to get a better look. The problem is it's dark and I can't make out anything more than a shadow. "Stay inside. I'll check it out."
"Hell, no." He opens his car door. "I'll do it."
"It's not safe, Nate. Let me take a look."
"I said no." His voice suddenly turns colder than I've ever heard it. "Believe it or not I know a thing or two about night-time predators that get a rise out of preying on innocents and they happen to be the people I despise most. Which is why I'm going to check it out and you are going to stay right here. End of discussion."
The car door shuts loudly behind him and it's a loud enough noise that I jerk in my seat. "What the hell was that?" I say to no one in particular.
His tone sounded personal so I'm going to take a wild guess and say he's been jumped before or someone close to him has. I've never seen him so angry or determined so I shut the fuck up and stay in the car like he instructed. Something tells me he's got this.
Not even two minutes pass before the car door opens again and he climbs in. He quickly buckles in the seat and looks stoically ahead. "Drive. Now."
"Pardon?" My brows come together and frustration flares. "That's my house and I have every right to know who the fuck is standing outside of it."
"Just drive!" He pounds a fist on the dash and something like fear creeps across his face. "Please."
Coolness breaks out at the back of my neck while my gut twists uncomfortably. Something isn't right here. Besides, once again he leaves no room for argument so I change gears, press on the gas, and peel off the street. We ride for a few tense minutes before I'm unable to hold back my curiosity. "You better start fucking talking because you're freaking me out."
He blows out a harsh breath. "As soon as I saw her I knew something was up. She gave off the weirdest vibe, like if I didn't run in the other direction she'd get me for good."
Her? Only one person in the universe made me feel the exact same way. "You're saying it was Hannah?"
"It had to be. She said she was a friend of your mother's and that she had important news. As far as you've told us your mother doesn't have friends, at least none who look that put together so I can only assume it's her."
"What did she look like?" I manage to ask. Fear constricts my heart tightly. If it really is Hannah then she's figured out where I live and I don't even know how to process that. What does she want? Why is she here? She wouldn't have the balls to come near me after all the dirt I dug up on her, right?
"Blonde hair, a way too perfect face, and green eyes. A pretty colour but the way she was watching me...reminded me of a fucking snake."
"That sounds like her but she's a red-head with blue eyes." A sliver of hope peeks through. Maybe it isn't her after all. Maybe I'm safe.
"I've seen enough hair-dyeing from my sisters to recognize it wasn't natural. Her roots were peeking through. And she could have been wearing coloured contacts. It makes sense, no, that she would try and change her appearance?"
That hope is quickly crushed because Nate is making complete sense. My throat tightens. "Fuck. How did she find me?"
I drive aimlessly not knowing where I'm going and not caring as long as it's in the opposite direction of Hannah. My mind is processing a billion things and my head feels like it may explode. Then something occurs to me. "Did she ask about who you are or mention the car? I'm sure she saw it."
"She did." He nods. "You couldn't see inside the car though so I told her a buddy and I came by to visit you after your match but it looked like you hadn't made it home yet."
"Think she bought it?"
"I sure as fuck hope she did."
"Me too." I mumble. I pull over in a somewhat busy parking lot of a restaurant so I can take a moment to gather myself. My head drops to the wheel and I shut my eyes tightly, trying like hell to figure out what to do next.
"You need to move." Nate suggests softly. I nod in agreement. I have more than enough money from my M of M days so I can afford a new place effectively immediately.
Still somehow reading my mind, he says, "I know you're sitting on a nice and comfortable pile of cash but you need to buy something low key. Something she wouldn't expect you to live in. Your house is nice and all but it screams money so she knew where to look."
"Yeah." My voice is hoarse when I speak up. I clear my throat and try again. "Yeah. I'll do that."
"If you want to spend money on something then make it worthwhile. Security cameras, a passcode at your door instead of a look, things like that."
"How do you know all of this?" I find myself wondering.
He doesn't answer right away. When he speaks, that cool tone I heard earlier is back. "Like I said, I know a thing or two."
I leave it at that. Enough has happened tonight and I don't think I want to hear it right now anyways.
"Coach know?"
My face says it all and he curses under his breath, head dropping to the back of his seat. "He should. Whether you like it or not this will affect him if that bitch doesn't leave you alone so don't let him get caught in the crossfire. He has a grandkid on the way. You need to be smart about this, Cam."
"I know." It's all I can say. Defeat doesn't even begin to cover what I feel right now.
"We're gonna figure this shit out. All of us. She has no chance now that we all have your back. Have some faith, brother. We won't let anything happen to you."
I can't stop my lips from tipping up at that. If I've learned anything these past few months it's that I'm not alone and I don't ever have to be again. Which is exactly why I clap his shoulder and level him with my most determined look. "I know."
____________________
N/A
Dun, dun, duuuuuun!
Pretty intense, huh guys? Are you all wigging out? Any guesses on what's going to happen next?
How do we feel about Cameron's fighting? Who's getting super curious about Nate? I'm trying to build up his character since his book will be next! Yes, you heard that right! Book 3 features Nate! How do we feel about that?
Also, I'll put you all out of your misery. Avery returns to Boston in the next chapter!!! STAY TUNED! HOW EXCITING IS THAT!
Please VOTE, comment, and share if liked this chapter!
Happy Reading :)