by Robin Huber
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
I grab a nearby towel and lift it to his mouth and wipe the blood and saliva dripping from it. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Sam. I’m so proud of you.”
He tries to take the towel from me, but he can barely lift his arm.
“What is it, baby? What do you need?”
“I need to take a shower,” he mumbles, trying to stand up.
“Okay.” I hold his arms. “Careful,” I say, praying he can stand up, because there’s no way I can lift him. “Want me to get Grady?”
“No…no.” He gets to his feet and I wrap my arm around his waist. I walk with him to the shower and turn the water on.
“Want me to help you get your shorts off?”
He drops his hands on the counter, but doesn’t answer.
“I’m going to take your shorts off, okay?”
He stands still while I pull his bloodstained shorts down, noticing every bruise and red mark on his body.
He lifts his head and looks at himself in the mirror. “Fucking disgrace,” he says quietly.
“Come on, baby.” I help him into the large, clean shower and he sits down on the tile floor. “Sam.”
He leans back against the tile wall and slowly shakes his head. “Just wait out there for me,” he says, closing his eyes.
“No, I’m not leaving you.”
“You don’t need to see me like this.” He pulls his knees up and his head hangs down to his chest.
“Want me to wash you?” I ask, ignoring him, but he doesn’t answer. He just sits in the streaming water with his head hanging.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and his shoulders rise up and down. He holds his hand up and I quickly wrap mine around it. “I didn’t mean to let you down.”
“Sam, you didn’t let me down.” I fight back tears that are battling their way to my eyes and sit down in the shower next to him, ignoring the water that’s pelting me and soaking my dress. “You didn’t let Joe down either,” I say, dropping my head to his shoulder.
He lifts his head and drops it back against the wall and I watch a silent tear roll down his flushed cheek.
I reach for his tortured face and hold it in my wet hand. “You are the most important person in the world to me.” I put my hand on the slippery, wet material covering my stomach. “To us. Tonight we won, because we still get you. That’s all that matters. And we’ll take you any way we can get you. Without titles, without belts, without the fame or money that comes with it. Because none of that matters if we don’t have you.”
He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything.
I wrap my arm around his stomach and put my head on his shoulder, and we sit together in the dressing room shower until the water washes away the blood and sweat and tears of the night.
Chapter 17
Lucy
I wake to the Nevada sun shining through the windows that encase our suite. It glows pink over the dark outline of the mountains on the horizon under a clear blue morning sky. I sit up and stretch my hands over my head, nearly forgetting about last night, until I look over at Sam and see him lying in a small pool of blood, which has stained the pillowcase under his mouth. He’s snoring softly, so I don’t bother to wake him while I do an inspection of his injuries.
His eye isn’t as swollen, but it’s still purple, and blood bruises have appeared on his back that look like rug burns. His hands are red around his knuckles and the short stubble around his mouth is stained red with dried blood.
I get up and go downstairs to the living room and dial the concierge. “Good morning, I’d like to order room service…Um, just one of everything…Okay, thanks…Oh, and some coffee please. Regular and decaf…Okay, thank you.” I hang up the phone and head back upstairs when I hear the TV on in our room.
I mean, look, the guy is at the end of his career. If you don’t want to admit that…I’m not arguing with you. I’m just saying that last night shouldn’t define his entire career. Sam Cole is still one of the greatest boxers of our time…No one’s saying he isn’t. The guy has twenty-six wins and twelve knockouts. He’s had a longer run than any of the boxers he started out with. But now he’s going up against guys who are younger and quicker. He can’t keep up!…Well, Carey Valentine’s banking on that. He said recently that he’s ready to show the world who the new champion is…Carey might get the chance when he goes up against Brody Crawford next month. But I’ll tell you, Sam Cole won’t lose a match at the Garden. It’s where he got his first belt and, if rumors are true, it’s where he’ll get his last…So your money’s on Sam, whether Valentine takes the title from Crawford or not. Is that what you’re saying?…That’s what I’m saying…Can I get you to say it to the camera?…Hey, I’m a Sam Cole fan through and through. My money’s on Sam. He’ll beat Carey Valentine…You heard him, ladies and gentlemen. If you want to lose your hard-earned money, place your bets on Sam Cole in August when he goes toe to toe with Carey Valentine at the Garden.
Sam is sitting up in bed, holding the remote, staring at the TV.
“Hi.” I walk over to the bed and sit down next to him. “Why are you watching that?”
“I wanted to retire on my terms. Not theirs.”
“You are.” I scoot over to him.
“No.” He turns the TV off and puts the remote down. “I’m a fucking joke now.”
I look at his beautiful eyes through the bruises. “Sam, you are not a joke.” I push his hair off his forehead. “You lost. And that’s okay. Because it shows that you’re human, despite what some people think.” I smile softly. “You’re flesh and blood, like everyone else, and you can fall like everyone else. It’s how you get up that defines you.”
“I have to beat Carey Valentine,” he says resolutely, and my skin pricks with quiet fear.
I take the pillow from behind him, and start shimmying off the bloodstained pillowcase. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Sam.”
“Yes I do.” He gives me a disconcerted look and gets up, groaning quietly as he stands.
I grab a bottle of water and the ibuprofen off the nightstand and shake a couple into my hand. “Here.” I hand them to him. “Take these.”
He swallows the pills down and gets up to look at himself in the mirror. “Fuck,” he says, inspecting his face. The doorbell rings and Sam looks at me in the mirror.
“I thought you’d be hungry, so I ordered room service.” I head back downstairs to get the door.
By the time Sam comes down to join me, the dining room table is covered in steaming breakfast plates, from waffles to omelets and everything in between. He looks at the table and then looks at me. “Is the whole crew coming for breakfast?”
“No, I just didn’t know what you’d want and I didn’t want to wake you. That obviously didn’t pan out.”
He sits down at the table and reaches for an omelet.
“Want some pancakes?” I ask, holding the plate up.
He shakes his head and grumbles quietly, “Not in the mood.”
Okay.
I sit down across from him and pick up a piece of bacon, but I can barely swallow it by the time I’m done chewing. Sam is staring at his plate, silently eating his omelet without looking up.
“The baby was cheering for you last night,” I say, forcing a smile when he looks up at me. “She was kicking a lot.” I shrug. “I think she liked the music. Or maybe she hated it, I don’t know.” I laugh softly.
He puts his fork down on his clean plate. “Probably isn’t good for her,” he says impassively and stands up. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay.”
I finish my coffee alone with my thoughts, then I grab another piece of bacon and take my phone out onto the terrace that overlooks the mountains and the quiet strip below. I inhale the cool morning air and walk over to the edge of the glass balcony wall. I gaze out at the orange sun climbing over the mountains in the distance, ignoring the city below me, and listen to the occasional c
all of a bird.
My phone buzzes in my hand and before I even look at it, I know that it’s Sebastian, the only person who would call me this early.
“Hey,” I answer, holding my phone to my ear. “I was just going to call you.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Um…” I press my lips together and shake my head. “He’s not good. Last night was rough. And judging by this morning, I’m not sure today is going to be any easier.”
“Well, whatever you do, don’t let him turn on the TV.”
“Too late.”
“Is he watching right now?”
“No, he’s in the shower. Why, what are they saying?”
“That they think it’s time for Sam to retire. They said he should have beaten Brody Crawford hands down.”
I drop my face into my hand and groan softly. “Bas, if he couldn’t beat Crawford, how is he going to beat Carey Valentine?”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Sam says, surprising me, and a small part of me considers flinging myself over the glass.
“I have to go,” I say, hanging up on Bas. “Sam, that’s not what I meant.” I follow him back inside, dragging my heart behind me.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, sitting down on the couch.
“Sam, please, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” He folds his hands together and pulls them up to his mouth.
“Yes, it does matter.” I sit down next to him. “I’m sorry.” I reach for his arm. “I know that’s the last thing you needed to hear right now.”
“If that’s how you feel, it’s how you feel. I said don’t worry about it.” He stares blankly across the room.
“Don’t worry about it?” I huff. “All I can do is worry about it. All I can do is think about you fighting Carey Valentine in two months.” I drop my head to the side and look at his bruised face. “Look at you,” I cry, shaking my head.
“So, what, you don’t like the way I look now?”
“It’s not funny, Sam. Do you even know how many hits you took last night? Because I couldn’t keep count.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head back against the couch.
“Two months,” I say again. “That’s all we have left. Then everything changes, everything’s different. It’s not just about us anymore.”
“You think I don’t know that?” He looks at me and stands up. “You think I don’t know that?” he asks again, louder.
“I know you’re going through something right now, but—”
“What?” he shakes his head.
“You don’t have to admit it, because I know it.” I get up and stand in front of him. “I know you, Sam. Even if you wish I didn’t right now, I do. And I know you’re still dealing with Joe’s death. I know you haven’t been able to get past it. And I know that last night, it was all you could think about, because he wasn’t there. That’s why you fought the way you did.”
“The way I fought? The way I fought was to win. The way I fought was for everything I’ve worked for my whole fucking life. The way I fought was for Joe!”
“No…Joe wouldn’t have let you fight like that.”
“Let me fight like what?”
“Like you had nothing to lose,” I cry.
He pulls his hands to his head and runs his fingers through his wet hair. “I had everything to lose last night. Everything! My whole fucking career in one night!” he shouts, slapping his hands together.
“Your career,” I whisper, watching him drift further and further away from me.
“Do you know what it feels like to have everything you’ve worked for stripped away in a single moment? A moment that will be played for the world to see over and over and over again. A moment that will overshadow every accomplishment, every record, every title I’ve ever held. One moment”—he holds his finger up—“that destroyed everything. Do you know what that’s like?”
I blink back tears that sting my guarded eyes. “No, I don’t know what that’s like. But I know that it’s not everything.”
He puts his hands on his hips and drops his chin. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
I exhale a shocked breath. “Enlighten me.”
“Last night was what, the fifth fight you’ve been to? You haven’t been a part of this long enough to understand the magnitude of what losing the way I lost means.”
I release an incredulous breath and lock my armor into place. “Thanks for that reminder,” I say, blinking up at him. “I almost forgot that while you were out there building your career, I was watching through a microscope. I watched you win, I watched you get famous, I watched you sow your wild oats for the whole world to see.” I cross my arms over my round stomach and shake my head. “I’d almost completely forgotten about that.”
“That’s what you want to do right now? You want to compare lives while we were apart? All right, let’s talk about the fact that you almost married someone else. Let’s talk about that!” he shouts in his deep voice.
I turn around and stalk up the stairs.
“What, you can give it, but you can’t take it?”
I stop halfway up and put my hands on either side of my stomach. “Is this not enough for you? I’m carrying your child,” I cry. “Yours! Not Drew’s.” He stares at me and I stare back, and I wonder how we got here. “Maybe all this would be easier if I wasn’t.” I regret saying it as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“What did you say?”
The baby rolls inside my stomach and the guilt settles on my shoulders like a lead blanket. “I didn’t mean that.” I grip the brass railing and close my eyes. I’m sorry, I say to her, making a silent vow to never let anything come before her again. Including Sam. I can’t protect him from himself, but I can protect her.
“Yeah, well, maybe it would be.”
I open my watery eyes and force my heavy feet to carry me the rest of the way up the stairs, silently wincing through a Braxton Hicks contraction that turns my stomach into a tight ball.
Sam climbs up after me. “Lucy.”
“I think I’m going to stay with Sebastian for a little while when we get home,” I say, wiping my cheeks. “If Paul’s okay with it.”
“What?” He stares at me, but I can’t look at him.
I open my suitcase and start sorting through my clothes. “I think I just need some time to myself…away from everything for a little while.”
“Away from me?”
I steel my heart and look up at him.
His face is unreadable, but his chest is heaving up and down.
“Away from the stress. It’s not good for the baby,” I say honestly, choking back tears. “The house will be ready in a few weeks. Maybe it can be a fresh start.”
“A fresh start? You want to stay with Sebastian until we move?”
“It’s only a few weeks.”
“What about New York? The exhibit?”
“I think you need time too, Sam. I think…maybe I should go alone.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “See, that’s where you’re wrong…I don’t need time.”
“Yes you do, Sam.”
“No I don’t,” he says firmly, reaching for my arm. “I don’t need anything…except for you. Please, Lamb, don’t do this,” he pleads.
My stomach tightens again, but I ignore it. “I love you, Sam. I just need some time to catch my breath.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and his hands fall away. “Yeah,” he nods and looks at the floor. “If you think it’s best.” He looks up at me again with empty eyes. “Whatever’s best for the baby.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay.”
* * *
I lift my heavy head and turn my pillow over and cry into the other side. The early morning light that’s peeking through the covered window in Paul and Sebastian’s guest room tells me that I’ve cried myself into a new day. I pull the silky sheet up to my face and wipe my tears, but more come.
I shake my head and squeak, “No.”
“Come here.” He pulls me up off the pillow and into his arms.
I lay my head on his shoulder and cry into his T-shirt. “What am I doing, Bas?”
“You’re taking a break.” He rubs my back. “You just needed a break.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’m a mess.” I sit up and wipe my face on my shirt. “A hot pregnant mess.”
He pulls a few tissues out of the tissue box on the nightstand and hands them to me. “You’re allowed to be a hot mess right now.”
“Do you think I did the right thing, Bas? He’s so vulnerable right now.”
He gives me an earnest look. “I know Sam’s going through a lot right now, but so are you. Aside from the exhibit coming up and recovering from a car accident, you’re growing a tiny human. And she needs you.” He smiles softly. “She needs you healthy and strong and ready to be the best mom you can be for her. That’s why you’re taking a break. For her.”
“She needs her father too.”
“It’s just a break, Lucy, not a breakup.”
“It hurt him, Sebastian. What if he doesn’t forgive me?”
“For doing what’s right for his daughter? Sam Cole loves two things: you and the baby.” He closes his eyes and says, “Okay, three things. Boxing is obviously important too.”
I close my eyes and the tears come again. “He was so broken after the fight. I’ve never seen him like that before.”
“He’s human. He’s going to break from time to time.” He hands me the box of tissues. “So are you.”
“I just want everything to go back to normal.”
“Normal?” Bas laughs. “Nothing about you and Sam has ever been normal. You’re life has been a whirlwind since the second he came back into it.”
“Is it too much to ask for a gentle breeze from time to time?”
