by A. S. Teague
“You tell Sid yet?” Tripp asks.
Dread fills my belly. “Tell me what?”
Breccan’s eyes narrow on Tripp and he grunts through clenched teeth, “No, I haven’t.”
I tug on Breccan’s arm and repeat, “Tell me what?”
I glance over at Rebecca, who’s got her eyes trained to the floor. Their secrecy has me freaked out, my mind always jumping to the worst-case scenario.
“Shit,” Tripp mutters.
“It’s nothing, Sid.” He pulls me to him. “I promise. Everyone’s fine, there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s enjoy our party, and we can talk about it after,” Breccan pleads. I want to push the issue, to know now what Tripp’s talking about, but I trust Breccan, and if he says that it’s nothing, then I believe him. Plus, I don’t want anything to ruin the effort that Reb’s put in to tonight.
“Alright, honey,” I whisper.
He nods once and then walks to the living room. Shouting over his shoulder, he commends Rebecca, “This place looks incredible. You’ve gone way overboard though.”
She laughs and shouts back at him, “Did you expect anything less?”
Coming around the bar, Rebecca places her arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to him, you know that, right?”
Her seriousness takes me by surprise, and I swallow the lump that forms in my throat.
She continues, “He was such a fucking mess before you. Partying all the time. Not caring about anything, not being smart, making bad decisions. God, I was so worried about him.”
Her eyes sparkle and I can see her throat working to fight back the tears. “Then you came along. And I swear, the day he told us about you, it was like I was talking to a different person. He’d always had Tripp and me. Our parents. And we filled the void his asshole parents had left in him. But we didn’t fill it all the way. But you. Sidney, you and Connor. You two filled him up. So much that it’s overflowing now, even with Connor being gone. You completed him, gave him the family he’d always wanted, even if he wouldn’t let himself admit it.”
A tear rolls down my cheeks and all I can do is nod as she continues speaking. “And aren’t I the lucky one?” she asks, and with confusion, I wrinkle my brow. “Not only did you heal the man who’s like my brother, but you became my best friend. So, how lucky am I in all of this?” she finishes on a whisper.
I turn so that I can wrap both my arms around her and hug her tightly. “I love you, Sid,” she whispers in my ear.
“I love you too,” I tell her, my voice cracking.
We continue to hold each other for another moment, neither of us ready to let go when Tripp’s voice interrupts us from the other room.
“What the hell are y’all doing in there?”
Laughing, I pull away from her and swipe under my eyes. “Did I smear my makeup?” I ask.
She chuckles, but shakes her head. “Still look perfect,” she tells me. “Let’s have more wine.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, grabbing my wine glass from the counter and refilling it. “Okay, let’s go celebrate the fact that I’m getting married!”
THE PARTY WAS a huge success, all my friends from work coming, along with a lot of the guys from Breccan and Tripp’s gym. The Toler’s, Rebecca and Tripp’s parents, were also in attendance, along with some of our neighbors.
My sister was unable to make it, citing work conflicts, but she’d promised to be in attendance at the wedding. Breccan’s parents hadn’t even responded to the invitation, but we weren’t surprised–or upset–that they weren’t there.
It was a happy time, and we didn’t need their negativity bringing us down.
After all the guests left, I forced Rebecca out of the house, insisting that she didn’t need to stay and help clean up. She did more than enough in getting us ready, the least I could do was clean up the mess myself.
She protested, but eventually relented, and once she left with Tripp and his girlfriend, Aly, I’d breathed a sigh of relief. We had a great time, but I was ready to relax and more importantly, find out what Tripp and Breccan had been discussing earlier in the day.
I strolled down the hall to the bedroom, intent on peeling myself out of my dress and sinking in to my bed. But Breccan has other ideas.
As I enter the large walk in closet that we share, he snags me around the waist. “What are you doing?”
Halfheartedly, I push against him, “Brec, I’m so tired,” I whine.
“That’s okay, you don’t have to do anything.” He runs his fingertips across my chest, skimming the swell of my breasts. “I’ve been watching you all night, imagining all the things I wanted to do to you in this dress.”
Cupping my ass with his other hand, he squeezes. “Have I told you how fucking sexy you look in this dress?”
“Only every chance you got. And several times in front of people. I think you embarrassed the neighbors.”
“Doubtful. I saw the way those guys were lookin’ at you when you were bent over. Lucky I didn’t kick the shit out of them for staring at your ass.”
Giggling, I tell him, “Brec, our neighbors are gay! If they were checkin’ anyone out, it was you!”
He growls, “Don’t try to change the subject.”
I wiggle out of his grasp and push past him in to the closet. Peeling the dress over my head, I ask over my shoulder, “So, what is it that you haven’t told me?”
His shoulder’s falling, Breccan’s face forms in to a pout, “So, does this mean I don’t get to make you scream my name tonight? Cause I was feeling pretty creative, you know.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “As appealing as that sounds, I’d rather know what you’re keeping from me.”
I finish putting on my pajama pants and crawl in to my side of the bed. A few moments later, Breccan follows me, his chest bare and I can’t stop myself from staring at his perfectly chiseled abs.
He leans back against the headboard and sighs, “It’s nothing. I’m not even going to consider it.”
“Okaaaay,” I drawl when he doesn’t continue.
“Ryker Hawke is calling for a rematch,” he blurts, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
I sit up straight, my spine stiffening at the name of the man who took Breccan’s belt from him. It was Breccan’s last fight, and despite his promises otherwise, I knew that the way his career ended is a sore point for him.
“And you’re not considering it?” I ask slowly.
He cranes his neck in my direction. “I told you when I quit that I was done.”
His mouth may be saying one thing, but his eyes tell me another.
I press my lips together and study him for a long minute. “Bullshit.”
His eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Bullshit?”
I push up to my knees. “You should do it.”
His eyes practically bug out of his head, “What?”
“You heard me.” Crossing my arms across my chest, I dare him to challenge me. He immediately takes the bait.
“Sidney. I’ve got the gym now. We’ve just gotten it up and running—“
“You don’t run the gym alone,” I remind him.
“No, but Tripp can’t do it all.” He huffs. “I don’t have time to train.”
“But Breccan, honey, the way everything went down. Don’t you want another shot at Ryker?” I ask, playing devil’s advocate. “I mean, this isn’t just some random guy that wants to fight you. This is Ryker ‘The Stryker’ Hawke!”
He chuckles. “What a dumb fucking nickname.”
I nod. “Yeah, not really all that creative.” Not allowing the conversation to veer off course, I press. “Wouldn’t it be worth it to give it another shot?”
“I mean, yeah, I’d love to get in the cage again and beat the shit out of that asshole. God knows, he could use a good ass kicking and I’d be just the man to give it to him. But we’ve got Connor’s list we’re working on.”
I shake my head at him. “Oh
no. You don’t get to use that as an excuse. We have all the time in the world to finish that.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand, silencing him before a sound even escapes his throat. “You know that Connor loved MMA. He would never, ever, ever forgive himself if he thought he was the reason you gave it up.”
Breccan pushes off the bed and begins pacing, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Abruptly he stops and turns on his heel to face me. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I would love to change the way that fight ended. I would kill to fight him again, to show that mother fucker that he didn’t actually beat me.”
I push up to my knees, “Then show him!”
I watch him and realize that I mean it. I want him to fight again, if he wants.
His face flickers with a myriad of emotions. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, his mind working and weighing the pros and cons of making a come-back.
Eventually, Breccan pads over to the end of our king-sized bed and crawls toward me on all fours. I lean back in to the pillows and he hovers over me.
“Nope.”
“Why not?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
He places a gentle kiss on my lips. “Baby. We just got engaged. We’ve got a wedding to plan. I’ve got a business to run.” He kisses me again, his tongue running across my bottom lip. “I meant what I said. I have nothing left to prove. That’s not my life anymore.”
“But don’t you miss it?” I whisper, a question that’s plagued me since he walked away from it all.
“Fuck no. Not even a little bit,” he responds immediately.
“Are you sure?”
He pushes back and rests on his heels. “Positive.”
“You know I’d support you if you did go back. One hundred percent,” I tell him honestly.
“I want you to be happy too. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t do something because of me.”
Breccan settles back in beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. He rests his chin on the top of my head. “Sid, I know you feel responsible for my decision to quit fighting. But it was my choice, not yours.”
“Yeah, but—“
“No buts.” He places a finger over my lips. “My choice, baby. My choice. Okay?”
“Alright.” I agree, even though I don’t fully believe him.
He moves his finger away from my lips, satisfied with my answer.
We sit in silence, the only sound the gentle whirring of the ceiling fan as it spins lazily above us. Breccan’s arm around me flexes and we slide down the bed. I rest my cheek to his chest and run my fingertips over his stomach.
Breccan speaks, his deep voice causing his chest to vibrate under my head. “I’m thinking October.”
“For what?”
“Our wedding.”
“October’s a good time of year,” I agree. “The weather will be nice. And it gives me plenty of time to plan,” I think aloud.
“I’m thinking this October. In Costa Rica.”
My head pops up and my hair whips him in the face when I turn my head to stare at him, my mouth hanging open. “You’ve lost your damn mind.” My mind spins as I think of all the things that go in to planning a wedding. I can only imagine that number is twice as high when you factor in a destination like Costa Rica. There’s no way I can pull that off in less than three months.
He chuckles and runs a hand through my hair. “Ready to call you my wife.”
The way the word ‘wife’ tumbles from his lips causes my heart to flip. My mind stop’s racing and I whisper, “Say it again.”
His eyes shine and he says fiercely, “You’re going to be my wife. And I’m not waiting any longer than necessary for you to be Sidney Carlisle.”
“Sidney Carlisle,” I breathe, loving the way the words feel on my tongue. I tilt my head back to look at him, and grin. “October in Costa Rica it is.”
Breccan grasps under my arms and pulls me up his body until we are face to face. A triumphant grin spreads across his face and then he kisses me, hard.
Breccan rolls us, until I’m on my back and asks, “Still too tired for me to show you how much I liked that dress?”
“Don’t you ever get too tired?” I ask playfully, turning my head to kiss and nip his shoulder.
He lets out a low growl, “Nope. Not when it comes to you.”
CHAPTER Five
three months later
october
“WHAT AN INCREDIBLE day,” I breathe. “Didn’t it feel like the entire world was spinning just for us?”
“It was pretty close to perfect,” Breccan murmurs from behind me.
He’s right, our wedding day was as close to perfect as it could be. We’d said our vows on the beach, the waves crashing in, creating the perfect setting. I didn’t even need wedding music, just the sounds of the ocean guiding me down the aisle, to the man I loved.
Our family at our sides, there was nothing that could have made it better. Even with the physical absence of Connor, I knew he was there. I’d felt him with me the whole time, and when I’d looked in Breccan’s eyes and we promised to love one another until our last breath, I heard Connor’s whoops of joy.
After the wedding, we enjoyed an amazing meal, catered by a world-renowned chef, and then spent the rest of the evening dancing on the beach. I couldn’t have dreamed a better day.
Exhausted, I push the door to our bedroom open. It’s mostly dark inside, the sun having set hours ago, but a lamp in the corner glows softly. I pause just inside the room, giving my eyes a moment to adjust, and when they do, I gasp at what I see.
The room is covered in flowers, their fragrance sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. My hand at my mouth, I take a tentative step inside the room, my eyes sweeping the bedroom of the villa that we’ve been staying in for the last three days.
When I left this morning, the room looked like a tornado had blown through. Clothes littered the floor, makeup and hair products covered the vanity, the bed messy and unmade.
It was the day of my wedding and the morning was a flurry of activity. There’d been no time to clean the mess I made getting ready, but as I look around, I see that someone had taken care of it.
Breccan moves in to the room behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. I place a hand on top of his and squeeze. “Did you do all of this?”
His lips brush my cheek. “You like?”
“The flowers are beautiful,” I tell him, looking at the dozens of bouquets. Each vase is a mix of colorful tropical flowers, beautiful both individually and together.
My gaze roams the room when I spot a box in the middle of the freshly-made bed. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the large rectangular package.
“That is your wedding gift,” he replies proudly.
I shift so that I can see his face. “But you already gave me a wedding gift.” Confused, I finger the necklace at my throat. A delicate chain rests against my skin, an emerald-cut opal, the size of a quarter, surrounded by diamonds resting at the end.
“Well, I guess you just get two wedding gifts then.” He kisses the end of my nose.
“Breccan, you shouldn’t have.” Guilt washes over me as I realize that he’s gone overboard with the gifts, like he always does. “I only got you the watch.”
He pulls the sleeve of his tux shirt back to admire the timepiece on his wrist. “Baby, this watch is the baddest thing I’ve ever seen.” He tears his attention away from his arm and looks into my eyes. “But you didn’t need to get me anything. Marrying me today was the only gift I needed.”
My lips tip up. “You’re so cheesy.”
He lifts a shoulder, “You like it.”
I giggle, “I do.” My gaze goes back to the package on the bed. “Can I open it now?” I ask eagerly. Even though he shouldn’t have gotten me another gift, I’m still dying to know what’s inside.
He dips his chin and I prance to the bed, wasting no time grabbin
g the box that’s tied with a huge bow. I pull the end of the ribbon and it slides off.
Taking the lid off the box, I toss it aside and paw through the tissue paper inside. When I finally get to the content of the box, my eyes widen while my heart slams in my chest.
With shaking hands, I pull the book from the box and stare at the cover.
The Adventures of the Amazing Connor O’Neil is written across the front in bright font, a caricature of Connor that we had made during a trip to Six Flags is printed beneath the title.
My mouth opens and closes, desperately seeking air while trying to find the right words to say to Breccan. Slowly, I lift my gaze to where he’s perched on the end of the bed, my eyes shimmering with tears.
His face bursts with pride and excitement.
With trembling fingers, I slowly slide the book from its protective plastic sleeve and carefully open the front cover.
The Adventures of the Amazing Connor O’Neil
Written by: Sidney O’Neil Carlisle
Illustrated by: Alex Lee
Dedication from Alex Lee: For the boy who never let his circumstances stop him from living his life.
I read the page over once more and then slowly flip through the rest of the book. Breccan lets me take my time, never once interrupting me while I read the comic I’d written last month.
When I reach the end, I gently slide it back in to the protective sleeve and finally speak. “How?”
Breccan’s face breaks in to a triumphant smile and he shrugs. “I know a guy.”
Incredulously, I ask. “Alex Lee? You know Alex Lee?”
He nods, still grinning. I’d like to say that I’m shocked that Breccan knows one of the most famous comic book artists of all time, but nothing he does surprises me anymore.
“Baby, your comic book was great, the stories and adventures hilarious. But the illustrations…” He trails off, not wanting to hurt my feelings, and I giggle.
I feign hurt and ask, “What was wrong with my stick figures?”
He laughs out loud and I join him, laughing until my cheeks hurt. When I finally catch my breath, he tells me. “I called him and asked if he would mind illustrating it for us, telling him Connor’s story. He agreed and I sent him your version. Which, by the way, I got back, so don’t worry.”
