by Ciz, Alley
How she ever managed to last three years with the guy, let alone being engaged to and living with him, she would never know.
“Oh, Holly.” Disapproval rang clear in Chad’s voice. “What in the world did you do to your hair?” His face scrunched in distaste.
She didn’t answer. She remained on top of the leg press machine, praying she was hallucinating and this wasn’t actually happening.
“It’s got to be the influence of that fag friend of yours and his fairy husband.”
The gym sucked in a collective breath, and a dozen fists clenched and cocked.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Rocky stepped forward, ready to throw a punch to defend their friends.
Gage quickly wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back to his side. “Blue, baby, you’re pregnant. Probably best you don’t get in a fistfight right now.”
Chad’s eyes briefly flicked in Rocky’s direction before returning to Holly, not bothering to respond.
“Imagine my disappointment to find you in this hovel looking like a punk rock skank.”
There he was. The man she’d seen more and more over the last year. Chad Montgomery was a master at emotional abuse. He knew exactly what words to use to whittle away at your confidence until there was nothing left. It was surprising that he would show that part of himself in front of so many witnesses. It was a testament to how pissed he was.
“Hovel?” Becky rolled her eyes at the ludicrous description of the state-of-the-art gym.
“Where the fuck do you get off calling my girl a skank?” Vince’s voice roared throughout the space.
“Your girl?” Chad stepped in closer to Vince as he looked at him for the first time. “Guess skank really is an apt description seeing as she’s sleeping with you while engaged to me.”
WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. Fuck?
Vince wiggled a finger in his ear, sure he misheard Captain Douchepants. There was no way Holly—his Holly—was engaged to the Ken doll standing before him. Sure, there were details about her past he didn’t know, but he knew in his gut she wasn’t a cheater.
“Imagine my surprise when my father’s press secretary showed me a clip from the latest UFC promo video, only to see you canoodling with this ape”—he spoke to Holly and waved a hand toward Vince—“while they interviewed another one of the knuckle-draggers.”
Vince’s molars snapped together as he clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to bury his fist in the twat’s face.
He turned to face Holly as she scrambled down from the leg press machine and marched in their direction.
“We. Are. Not. Engaged anymore. I stopped being your fiancée the moment I put the ring on your nightstand and left.”
The conviction in Holly’s words eased the uncertainty that had crept inside him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…oh, Holly,” Douche Ken said in a patronizing tone. “We all know you’re going to return home where you belong once you’re done slumming it with this barbarian. Why drag this out any longer?”
Holly wasn’t going anywhere, not if he had anything to say about it.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Chad.”
Chad—what the fuck kind of name was Chad anyway?—rolled his eyes as if Holly was being ridiculous. “Of course you are. This”—his finger bounced between the two of them—“has been arranged for years. But if you are having fun playing the whore for this Neanderthal, I can be more than accommodating to the notion once we are home. Heaven knows you’ll be spending a lot of time on your knees to make up for the inconvenience you’ve caused me.”
Vince knew he shouldn’t hit the guy, he could get in a lot of trouble for fighting outside the cage, but he had reached his breaking point. He would not listen to one more disgusting word from this asshole’s mouth.
He stepped around his girl, hooked an arm around her to push her safely behind him, cocked his arm back and laid the fucker out with a single jab to the face. The satisfying crunch of bone sounded as he broke Chad’s turned-up nose.
“Vince! Don’t.” Holly wrapped her hands around his arm as he readied to throw another punch. “He’s not worth the trouble it will cause.”
Maybe not, but it would sure feel good to lay this fucker out again.
As if able to read his thoughts, she stepped into his body, wrapped both arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe and placed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the act automatically soothing the beast inside.
“I’m going to sue you for everything you’re worth,” Chad roared, holding a hand over his nose to stem the bleeding.
“Sue him? For what? For you tripping over a loose free weight and smashing your face against the rack? How is your clumsiness Vince’s fault?” Gage asked.
Chad sputtered. “That is not what happened.”
“That’s what I saw,” his brother-in-law was quick to say.
“Me too,” his sister agreed.
A chorus of “Us too” was heard as everyone one from the gym had his back. It was what family did.
“You really should watch where you’re walking in a gym,” Becky advised. “I try to teach them to put the weights away when they are done, but being knuckle-draggers—that’s what you called them, right?—well, they don’t always comprehend the concept.”
God, he loved Becky. She was the sister he never wanted but wouldn’t trade for the world.
“Now why don’t you get the fuck out of my gym before you have another accident.” The threat was clear in Vince’s voice.
Chad’s eyes bounced between Vince and Holly before he spoke again. “Whatever…you can have her. She was only good for the money that came attached. But now that she’s slumming it with you, she’ll be cut off just like her little rainbow friend was.”
“First off, I’d be careful what you say about Kyle. He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.” He turned his attention from the dickhead and looked down at his girlfriend, pushing a few pieces of purple-tipped hair from her face and behind her ear. “You, Cupcake”—he stroked a finger across her cheek then her bottom lip—“are worth so much more than money. The only thing I need from you is to love me the way I love you.”
She hiccuped out a sob at his words, burying her face against his chest as her arms locked around him like a vice.
You wouldn’t hear any complaints from him.
“Aww, how cute, you love the little slut.” The guy was really angling for a beatdown. “Have fun living in squalor with a man who makes his living acting like a barbarian, Holly.”
Vince kept his arms wrapped around her so he didn’t give in to the overpowering urge to use this asshole’s face like a speed bag.
“Sorry to break it to you,” his tone was anything but apologetic, “but my barbaric living earns me millions. So thanks so much for your concern, but I think we’ll be fine. Now someone please get this douchecanoe out of here before I make him my new punching bag.”
He’d had enough. The guy didn’t deserve one more second of his attention. He needed to forget about him and focus on the girl trembling in his arms. She was what mattered.
* * *
With Ozzy Osbourne’s “I Don’t Wanna Stop” blasting through his earbuds at earsplitting volume, Vince beat a relentless pattern against the tethered punching bag.
Jab-cross-jab-cross-jab-cross-jab-cross.
Roundhouse kick.
Jab-jab-jab-jab.
Roundhouse kick
Jab-cross-jab-cross.
Knee-knee-knee.
Over and over, he beat the bag, his frustration from the fucked-up day flowing from his body and into the bag. Snippets of the day flashed through his mind like a highlight reel.
Each insult Chad hurled Holly’s way.
Every derogatory slur he spat.
The revelation that Holly had been engaged to the douche played on a loop in his brain.
Needing to be alone with Holly immediately, he took her by the hand and led her to his sister’s office.
He shut and locked the
door, leaning against it. His arms looped around her hips, stretching out a hand to cup her ass. He loved her ass, he couldn’t help himself.
“Are you mad at me?” Holly’s voice was small as she kept her face trained on their feet.
One finger curled under her chin to raise her face until he could look into her whiskey eyes. His own eyes narrowed at the uncertainty swimming in hers.
“Why on earth would I be mad at you? You didn’t invite that fuckwad here. He ambushed you.” His own anger over the situation simmered under the surface. What if the fucker had gone to EP looking for her instead? What would he have done if she was alone and not surrounded by a legion of friends?
Jab-hook.
Cross-hook-cross-hook.
Jab-jab-jab.
Each hit was harder than the last as he imagined all the possibilities of what could have happened if Holly wasn’t with him at the gym that afternoon.
“Be-Because I never told you I used to be engaged.” She tried to look away again.
Both hands now cupped her face as he held her gaze on his.
“I’d only be mad if you were still engaged to the prick…Pfft…I probably wouldn’t even be mad then.” He lifted his thumbs to caress her cheekbones. “I’ve told you…I knew you were meant to be mine from the moment I laid eyes on you. I doubt there’s anything that could have kept me away.”
She melted against him, hands clutched in the waistband of his shorts since he was shirtless.
“I meant it.” Her head lifted, making eye contact again. “I broke off our engagement.”
“Cupcake.”
“No.” She cut him off with a shake of the head. “I need to tell you this. Honestly, I should have before today. When I ran away, I left both my ring and a note saying I wouldn’t be marrying him. I was done with him and my old life from the moment I loaded my bags in the car and drove off.”
“That’s good, because you’re not going anywhere now. You belong here. You belong with me, and now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”
He shook himself out of the memory of his sappiness and landed another punishing roundhouse kick to the bag, earning back some man card points.
Shaking his head, he internally laughed. Book club was seriously affecting his way of thinking. All those goddamn romance novels—no matter how much he loved them—were making him wax poetry.
Him.
A professional MMA fighter.
A fighter about to take his shot at the light heavyweight title.
And fuck if he didn’t mean every sappy word.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Vince took Holly’s hand as they walked toward the front door of the Donovans’ home. Though home might be too simple of a word to describe the six-bedroom, gray and tan bricked mansion with large white columns and contrasting black shutters.
The estate served as a home base for their squad. With the exception of training, they spent most of the hockey off-season either lounging around the Olympic-sized swimming pool in the back or down the shore.
“You ready for this?” Vince asked before opening the door in front of them.
Holly’s brows scrunched together under her knitted beanie. “You do realize I’ve spent a lot of time with these people over the last two months, right?”
He loved that each one of the girls had accepted her wholly, making her one of their own. But what they were about to find on the other side of the door was an entirely different brand of crazy.
“Alright, Cupcake.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Entering without knocking, they were immediately engulfed in a swirl of sound. Voices and laughter sounded over the Christmas music playing in the background as a round of barking started and a mob of dogs ran to greet them. Leading the charge was Navy, Jordan’s six-year-old black Labrador, the newest addition to the growing Donovan clan, Stanley, a five-month-old chocolate lab puppy, following closely on his heels. Rounding out the crew were Trident, Maddey’s more sedate yellow lab, and Pebbles and Bam Bam, Chance Jenson’s black, white and gray spotted Great Danes.
While the dogs wiggled at their feet, weaving between their legs, he hung their coats in the double-doored coat closet in the hall. He gave Holly one more amused look and guided her down the hall until the house opened up into a large open-concept kitchen and living room.
Holly’s feet came to a stop as she took in the people filling the rooms—there were almost too many of them to count. He wrapped an arm around her as he pointed out different groupings of people. The dozens of people celebrating included the Covenettes, the gym rats, the hockey players, a rockstar, and all their assorted family members. It was like a Steele family dinner on steroids.
Lyle and Jamie were in a heated Mario Kart battle with Sean and Carlee, while Kyle and Sammy watched with bemused expressions as they listened to the two grown men trash talk a pair of nine-year-olds.
“Well, hey there, sexy,” Tucker said flirtatiously, making his way toward them. “You must be the baker I’ve heard so much about.” He took Holly’s hand in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
Vince pushed his friend back by the shoulder—okay, maybe he pushed a little harder than necessary—before going in for a one-armed, back-slapping hug.
“Don’t be flirting with my girl, you Abercrombie model wannabe,” he threatened while Holly giggled beside him.
“Touchy, touchy, Vinny-boy.”
“Don’t call me that, M-Dubs,” he tossed back the girls’ nickname.
“Ouch.” Tuck mimed being stabbed in the heart.
“M-Dubs?” Holly’s eyes bounced between them.
“It stands for Man Whore,” Skye answered, passing off a glass of wine to Holly. “A title he’s more than earned.”
“That’s only because I can’t convince you to sleep with me again, Bubble.” Tucker dropped an arm around Skye’s shoulders which she quickly brushed off.
“I’ve already told you, M-Dubs…it’s never going to happen.”
“You’ve said that before and I distinctly remember a time dur—” Tucker’s sentence was cut off by Skye’s hand smacking across his mouth.
“We will not be mentioning that. I blame the magical powers of weddings and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, Bubble.”
“Do. Not. Call me that.” Skye bit out the words. “Keep doing it, and I’ll sick my bestie on you.”
“Bubble?” Holly whispered to Vince while Tucker and Skye bickered.
He leaned down to speak directly in her ear, taking a moment to inhale her sugary scent. “It stands for Bubble Butt.” He chuckled at her wide-eyed expression. “See why she doesn’t like being called it?”
“BB3,” Jordan called out. “Stop being a shit-stirrer. It’s Christmas, take a break for a day.”
Tucker jogged over to wrap his arms around her in a hug from behind and rested his chin on top of her head. “Aww, Blondie…why you gotta be a fun sucker?”
“Please,” Jordan rolled her eyes, clearly used to Tucker’s gregarious personality. “Holls, ignore my BB3, we all do.”
“BB3?”
“It stands for Big Brother 3. Tuck here didn’t think having two older brothers was enough when Jake and I first started dating, so he declared himself an honorary one,” Jordan explained as she handed off a sippy cup to her mom for one of her girls.
“And she’s not bitter at all over me being seven minutes older either.” Jase earned himself a backhand to the chest from his twin as he came to greet them. “Wanna go a few rounds in the ring tomorrow before I have to head back to the city?”
“Hell yeah,” Vince said, always willing to spar with his best friend. Tomorrow was another day off from training, but it wouldn’t hurt to mess around in the ring with the enforcer.
Becky came to whisk Holly away while he spent some time catching up. He worried the drama with her ex would still be bringing her down, but the happy smile on
her face told him all he needed to know.
HOLLY’S HEAD SPUN as she followed Becky out of the bustling kitchen and into the equally populated living room. She guessed she probably should have taken Vince’s concern a smidge more seriously. It was a good thing Jordan owned such a large home because there were people everywhere.
Becky led her to a group of couches where Rocky and Gemma sat with women she assumed were their mothers, given how strongly they resembled each other. She settled herself between her two roommates and cast a glance at Vince laughing with his friends in the kitchen. It was nice to see him smile. He had been extremely tense since Chad’s unwelcome visit.
“So, Holls.” Rocky smiled when she caught her checking out her brother. “You haven’t met the moms yet have you?”
Rocky made quick work of introductions, the three matriarchs of the Steele family—make no mistake Tracy Reese, Becky’s mom, was included in this—looked at her with an almost awed expression on each of their faces.
“You grew up with our Kyle?” Vicki Steele, Vince’s mom asked.
“Yes.” She looked over to her closest friend, receiving a smile when he caught her staring. “We were in the same schools since pre-school. We did have a few years where we didn’t get to see each other as much as we would have liked, but we’ve always remained close.”
“It was because his family are a bunch of assholes?” She snorted at Hope, Vince’s aunt’s spot-on description of the Huntingtons.
“Pretty much. Mine too,” she added as an afterthought.
“So we heard,” Tracy said. “At least our boy taught that dick a little thing about respect.” Her statement was met with nods from the group.
“Coo-key, Coo-key,” one of the Donovan twins said with outstretched arms as she ran at Holly.
