by Emma Nichole
“Well, he’s a pretty skilled fighter, but I think you’re right. I can take him,” I say, giving him a pat on the head, then I look up to the woman who brought them up, whom I assume is their mother. “Ma’am? I’m going to speak to my team at the merch table. Tomorrow, go there and they can pick out anything they’d like. On me.”
“Oh my goodness, thank you so much,” she says, then looks down at the kids. “Boys, what do you say?”
“Thank you!” they say, nearly in unison, then they turn around and bolt off, cheering and looking at their signed pictures.
I laugh. “You’re welcome, guys. Thank you for the support.”
The mother thanks me again, then turns to go after her boys.
“Wow, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I turn toward the voice and spot the most beautiful woman in the room.
“Did it excite you?” I ask Faith.
“Very much so.”
“Were you spying on me?” I ask.
“Maybe I’m a voyeur at heart, like you.” She steps toward me, places her hands on my chest, and pushes up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the lips.
We made the trip up to Chicago late last night after spending a few days off in Dallas. It’s not typical to have one fight so close to another, but this was scheduled when I was at my most arrogant, most cocky. In fact, I think I even said, “I can win three fights in a row with no turnaround time. No fucking problem.”
I cup her face in my hands as the kiss breaks. “When did you come down here? I was going to bring you up some coffee.”
“I wanted to come find you. I thought we could have breakfast together before you had to head to your workout.” She lazily traces my hairline at the nape of my neck.
She is dressed simply, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. She has her hair piled in this messy bun type of thing on top of her head, and there isn’t a stitch of makeup on her face. She has a smattering of freckles that decorate the center of her face, over the bridge of her nose. She’s so beautiful that it makes my chest ache.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks, giving her head the slightest tilt.
I release a breath through my nose and then kiss the tip of hers. “I just love looking at you.”
“Well, you can look all you want for as long as you want.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” I kiss her again.
***
A few hours later, after breakfast with Faith and a quickie against the hotel room window, I step out of the shower and nearly buckle over in pain.
It feels like an ice pick is wedged behind my eye. The pain is searing and cold. It’s bringing tears to my eyes and a deep, sharp ring to my ears.
I have to squeeze my eyes closed. The light is too much.
“Fuck!” I growl out, reaching for the counter ledge to balance myself, but I knock off the hair dryer Faith left there this morning and send it clattering to the floor.
“FUCK! Shit,” I shout again. I bend forward and brace myself against the counter, head bowed, breathing through the pain.
“Marco?” Faith calls from the other side of the door, knocking softly just after. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just slipped.”
“Are you sure? It sounded like more than a slip.”
“I’m okay, baby,” I tell her quietly. Talking louder does nothing but make my head throb. “Goddamn.”
“I’m coming in,” she announces, before she pushes the door open. “Jesus, baby, are you okay?” She places a hand on my back. “What’s happening?”
“I’m good. I’m okay. Just a headache.” I try my best to downplay it, but she can see right through me.
“Marco...”
“I’m fine,” I say, a little too firmly.
She steps away from me. “You’re not fine, and I don’t appreciate you lying to me. There’s no point. Just let me help you.”
I turn my head and pop one eye open to look at her. She’s standing against the wall on the opposite side of the room with her arms crossed over her chest.
“You’re right. Shit. I’m sorry.”
She drops her arms and steps back over to me. “How bad is it this time?”
“It was okay until I step out of the shower and then it was like an anvil fell on my head.”
“It just came out of nowhere?” She pulls the towel from the rack and begins to dry off my body then wraps it around my waist. “Come sit down.”
She takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom, and I sit on the edge of my bed. She leaves me long enough to pull the blackout shades over the windows to eliminate the light before she comes back with a bottle of water, and a bottle of pain reliever in her hand.
“It came absolutely out of nowhere. It does that sometimes. There usually isn’t a rhyme or reason to it, and that’s what makes it so bad. It’s unpredictable.”
“Drink some of this.” She hands me the water and shakes out two tablets from the pill bottle. “And take these.”
I swallow them with a large gulp of water. “Thank you.”
“Marco, how often do you get these?” She kneels at my feet and rests her hands on my legs.
I place my water on the bed beside me. “It varies, but they happen consistently a few days after a fight.”
“Doesn’t that scare you? I know it scares me.”
“It does sometimes. How could it not? But, the over the counter pain relievers work enough, and I’m able to manage it on my own.”
“But your doctor says this could get worse with each fight, right? If you get hit in the head or fall too hard?”
“They just think I should stop overall, but I’m not doing that. Not yet.”
“I know that no matter what I, or anyone says, you won’t budge on that, and I understand why...more than you know.” She kisses my leg. “Lie back and try to rest until your medication kicks in. I’ll text Joe and tell him you’re running late.”
I just nod. “Thank you.”
I move back until I can lie on the bed and I pull a pillow over my head, squeezing my eyes closed, praying to whichever higher being that exists this pain starts to ease sooner rather than later.
Faith
I sat with him on the bed, rubbing his head, until he assured me the medicine had kicked in and he was okay to go to training.
I tried to talk him into staying with me at the hotel, but he insisted he was fine, but I could see the subtle squint of his eyes and the way he avoided the light.
He was still in pain when he kissed me goodbye, and now, a few hours since he left, I have no doubt he’s still in pain.
I flip my phone around and around on the bed, contemplating the phone call I’m about to make. It’s not my business to say anything. It’s not my place to call her for this conversation, but as someone who cares deeply about her brother, I pick up the phone and call.
“Hello?”
“Nora, hi, it’s me, Faith.” I chew on my thumbnail.
“I know, silly. Your name popped up on my screen when you called.” She giggles.
“Well, duh. Sorry. I guess I didn’t even think about that.”
“You okay? My brother being nice to you?” she asks.
“He is. He’s being absolutely amazing to me, but he’s actually the reason I’m calling.”
“Did something happen? Is he okay?”
“Yes, I mean, I think so.” I tell her. “He had a pretty severe migraine this morning. He took a shower and it came on suddenly. It was so bad he was doubled over in pain and couldn’t even stand to have the lights on.”
“He’s such a stubborn ass.” She sighs into the phone. “Where is he now?”
“He went to training. He has the Jesse Dominique fight tomorrow night. I tried to talk him into staying in the room longer, but he insisted he was fine.”
“Of course he did. Look, Faith, he is never going to admit that it’s bad, no matter how painful it really is.”
“What’s go
ing on with him? Has he always been getting these?”
“No, but it has been happening for awhile. Some bodies can take trauma better than others. Because he started fighting so young, his body just isn’t taking the repeated blows any longer. He’s had multiple concussions, and without seeing his chart in my hand, I’d have to say the migraines are directly linked to the concussions. He isn’t giving his body time to heal and rest. Honestly we are all afraid that…” She pauses.
“Afraid of what?” I ask.
“Afraid that one more concussion and he could really damage his brain, or worse.”
“Jesus.” I look down at my feet with my head in my hands, really processing what she’s telling me. “And he won’t listen to anyone? Not even his doctors?”
“I don’t want to speak for him, but I think this has something to do with the fact he fights Braxton White next week. That guy is a real asshole, and my brother wants nothing more than to put him in his place.”
“He told me about him. He sounds like a monster.”
“That’s an understatement. Braxton is the kind of man who thinks he owns the ground you are walking on and that everyone should bend to his will.”
A chill runs up my spine. “Yeah, I’ve encountered men like that before.”
“Marco has this unfinished business with Braxton. He keeps telling me he wants to finish these last fights then we can talk about everything else. I think he is ready to quit, but he is scared and stubborn.”
“He worried me this morning, Nora. I don’t like this at all.”
“Welcome to the wonderful world of caring about Marco. You’ll worry a lot. Make sure you have wine handy.” She giggles, and I can tell she’s trying to make light of everything because that’s who Nora is. This is how she copes. Laughter.
I laugh quietly, but my eyes begin to fill with tears. This scares me. It really, really does. I don’t want to lose him. I just got him.
Chapter 24
Falcon
I crack my neck by rocking my head back and forth. It’s been stiff and sore since the ordeal after my shower yesterday morning, but I’ll survive it.
I kept quiet to Joe, my trainer, and the doc who gave me an eval pre weigh-in last night. I didn’t want to hear the inevitable, overly used phrases.
Falcon, I think it’s time to step down.
Falcon, think of your health.
Falcon, there’s no shame in quitting. You’ve had a great career. Don’t risk it.
No. I’m not doing that. Not yet.
“Boss?” I look back to see Frank standing in the doorway. “I’ve got a delivery for you.”
He steps aside and there she is. My Faith.
She’s wearing this sundress that matches my colors. It’s a deep blue and hits right at her knee. The middle is this lacy material that gives me a slight view of her stomach and the top is a tank top. It’s fitted perfectly around her breasts, and goddamn…she’s perfect. Her hair is down today and curled into loose waves that lay right over her shoulders.
Fuck.
“Look at you,” I say, as she steps inside and closes the door behind her.
“Do you like it?” She spins slowly for me. “I wanted something to match you, but I also wanted something a little different than I wore last time. Vincent took me out to get it after you left today.”
“Did he now?” I smile and pull her in, wrapping my arms around her body. “I love it.”
“How are you feeling?” She reaches up and caresses her fingers across my temple.
“I’m all right,” I tell her, which isn’t the entire truth, but it’s not exactly a lie either. I do feel better than I did yesterday, but there is still this ringing in my ears I can’t seem to shake.
“I won’t ask if you’re sure, because I know you’ll just tell me you are.”
I lean down and rest my forehead against hers, breathing in her crisp, citrus scent, letting it absorb into my body like it’s oxygen.
“Faith, look at me.”
She tilts her head back and looks up at me. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for being here and for caring about me enough to ask.”
“I do care about you, Marco. A lot. I’ll always want to know that you’re all right.”
I bend forward to kiss her lips, but she steps up onto my feet so our heights can be more even, so we are face-to-face.
“Hello there,” I say to her.
“Hi.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in, smashing her lips onto mine.
The kiss doesn’t build into anything sexual. It’s just a simple kiss filled with fire and spark.
It’s be safe.
It’s good luck.
She breaks the kiss when there are three knocks on my door in rapid succession.
“That’s Joe,” I tell her. “That means it’s time.”
She releases a heavy breath. “Okay. I’ll go back up to my seat now so I can see you come in.” She kisses me once more. “Be careful, okay?”
“Always am.”
She steps away from me and heads back toward the door.
“I’ll find you afterward,” she says. “We’ll celebrate together.”
“Calling my win already?”
“Of course I am. You are Falcon Masen, after all.” And with a smile, she slips out of the room.
I shake my head, then try to shift back into fight mode. Swinging my arms, stretching, and loosening my body as best I can, ignoring the faint pulse growing in my skull.
“All right, Falcon,” I say out loud, pumping myself up. “Let’s fucking do this.”
Faith
For this fight, Frank led me to a seating area on the floor, rather than up into the stadium seating like at the venue in Dallas, and honestly, I’m grateful. The last thing I want to deal with is Jennifer, if she’s even here. Which I’m sure she is.
The energy in the room shifts with every fight leading into the main event, until I am literally shaking with nerves.
I can’t stop bouncing my legs or messing with my hair. I check the time. I check my phone. I do anything I can to pass the time until the lights finally dim, indicating it’s about to begin.
The crowd begins to roar, and we all rise to our feet.
Jesse Dominique enters the arena first to the tune of some hard rock song I am not familiar with. He’s flanked on each side by his entourage and he has a black robe on. He’s popular here. This is his home crowd.
And he’s eating it up.
He’s stopping along the way and touching the hands of those reaching out for him. I didn’t notice it at the weigh-in last night, but he seems to be a bit taller than Marco, and his arms are longer. He’ll have a better reach. I take a breath and shake out the anxiety creeping up my arms.
“He’s going to be all right.”
I look up to see who is talking to me, when I see Courtney slip into the seat beside me.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask her.
“I’ve known Falc a long time. Since he first stepped onto the scene. No matter what happens, no matter what life or his career throws into his path, in the end, he’s always okay.” She pats my leg. “Just remember to breathe.”
I give her a small smile and nod. “I will do my best.”
“And here.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small bottle of Jack Daniels. “To take the edge off.” She cracks it open and downs about half of it before passing it to me.
I shake my head. “I’m not much of a drinker. Usually just wine.”
She screws the top back on and puts the bottle back in her purse. “If you change your mind, it’s there.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before I even have time to really prepare, the lights dim again before the familiar shade of blue is cast all across the arena and his entry song blares through the sound system.
The crowd isn’t nearly as on his side this time as they were in Dallas. The boos drown out the cheers here, and my stomach twi
sts up at the overwhelming sound.
Courtney leans over to talk in my ear. “Can’t be the favorite everywhere. Don’t worry. He loves the adversity.”
I’m much closer to the walkway that he will take this time. I see him round the corner, flanked by both of his trainers and Joe. He’s focused on the space ahead of him. His face is stoic and unassuming, but so beautiful.
Just as he passes the area I’m occupying, he glances my way. Our eyes connect, but he doesn’t smile. He doesn’t do much of anything except acknowledge I’m sitting here before his focus returns to the task at hand: getting into the Octagon.
He steps into the caged area and one of his trainers, the younger one, helps secure his fingerless fighting gloves onto his wrapped hands.
I can see him flex his fingers; testing them as he does every time, then he opens his mouth so his can insert his mouth guard.
I bring my hands up to my face, resting them against my mouth like I’m praying, and maybe I am. Maybe I’m praying for whomever is looking out for this man right now to keep him safe, because I’m not sure what’s in the air right now, but something doesn’t feel right.
“Does he seem off to you?” I ask Courtney, as the music dies down for the fight to begin.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s normally more animated than this, isn’t he? I mean, from every fight I’ve seen online and how he was in Texas, this just seems different.”
She turns her eyes toward the men in the center of the Octagon as they meet in the middle, connecting gloves before they are signaled to fight.
She doesn’t answer my question; she doesn’t have to. I can tell by her face she agrees with me.
The referee steps back, telling them he expects a good clean fight…and announces loudly, “Come out fighting.”
Fuck…Here we go.
Chapter 25
Falcon
The lights shining above are like bullets in my brain. The pain is intense, so much so I feel sick.
