He hated that he’d been so distracted and preoccupied with training that week that he hadn’t been able to devote the time and attention he’d wanted to reassure her she’d made the right decision by taking a chance on him. He knew she was unsure, despite her words to the contrary, and he wanted to prove to her that he was as committed to their being together as she was.
“Here,” Pat said, handing him a pair of black shorts and T-shirt with red lettering across the front.
He unfolded them. “Maria’s still sponsoring me?” He’d thought for sure she’d back out of that commitment after firing him earlier that week. Maybe she was softer than she let on.
“Yes. And she said to tell you she hopes you are a better fighter than you are a bartender.”
“Me too.” He glanced at the shorts again. Walker “The Shadow” Adams was written on them. “Did Maria come up with this fight name?” He’d never had one but oddly enough, it fit. He was finally stepping out of his father’s shadow. Making his own way. Doing what he wanted.
Tyson cleared his throat. “No, I did.”
“You gave me a fight name?”
“Yeah, well, don’t read shit into it,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
“Okay, they’re getting started. Give me your bag, and go stand with the other fighters,” Pat said.
“And don’t forget, you’re staying in the loft at the gym tonight,” Tyson told him.
Walker nodded, handing his bag to Pat. He’d yet to tell Gracie he wouldn’t be there that evening, following his coach’s rules of no sex, no distractions, no chance of last-minute bailout by keeping him focused on the fight ahead. Other members of his camp would be there as well. Two others had their own fights on the next evening’s card. Fighters needed to be around other fighters before a fight, Tyson had said. They needed to remove distractions, including well-meaning loved ones who didn’t have the slightest clue what he was going through physically and mentally to prepare.
He didn’t like the idea of spending the night away from her, but Tyson was right. He wasn’t in any frame of mind to be with anyone that evening other than his fight team. Especially now. That contract from Erik weighed on him, and his doubt over Gracie plagued him.
As he approached the other fighters, she caught up to him. “Hey,” she said nervously. “You ready?”
“According to my pre-rehearsed PR kit, I am,” he said, hating that he didn’t sound confident. He had been. He’d had no other choice. He needed to win this fight or at least bring the judges to a decision, to secure another spot in the MFL. Now, he had another option. A guaranteed option. One he didn’t want to take, but . . .
“Everything okay?” she asked, touching his arm. A look of concern flashed on her pretty face.
He forced a breath. “Yeah. Everything’s great. Just looking forward to getting this part over with.”
She nodded and moved closer, pressing her body to his and standing on tiptoe, she whispered, “After this is over, I thought we could order food and eat in bed. I promise to behave myself for one more night as per Tyson’s orders.”
He gripped her waist, tempted to tell Tyson and his rules to take a hike and take her up on the better offer, but he couldn’t. “Sorry, Gracie. I’m actually spending the night at the gym, with the camp.”
She looked disappointed for a second, until she hid it behind a smile. “Sure, of course. I forgot that’s how Tyson does things. So, I’ll see you tomorrow . . . before the fight?”
No contact from then until either his hand was raised in victory or he was being taken out of the cage on a stretcher. “After the fight.”
She clamped her lips together and simply nodded. “Okay. Well, good luck . . .”
He couldn’t stand the look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes. The same look he’d seen her give Erik countless times when he’d put work before Gracie. This wasn’t the same thing, and he hoped she knew that. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her to him, placing her hands around his neck. He searched her eyes for answers. He saw love there and damn if he didn’t believe it. Still . . . “Gracie, I . . . uh . . .” How could he know for sure? How could he put all of his faith in her? His future, his career, his heart . . .
She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him softly. “Kick ass out there, okay?” she said, before heading back toward her table as the weigh-ins started.
He knew she meant it to be encouraging, a sign of support, a belief in him . . . but at that moment, those weren’t the words he needed to hear.
***
“Heading out alone?” Erik’s voice behind her made her jump as she unlocked her car three hours later.
The pre-fight conference had concluded, weigh-ins were over, and the event center had been prepped for the following night’s event. She was exhausted and disappointed that she wouldn’t see Walker before his fight, but she understood Tyson’s method. It worked. And right now Walker needed any advantage he could get. “Yes,” she said turning as she opened the door.
She didn’t want to talk to Erik. Working alongside him and acting professional, determined not to let their personal history get in the way of the job the last week had been challenging enough. She hoped over time it would get easier.
“Where’s Walker?”
“Tyson has the camp on lockdown for the next twenty-four hours.”
He came closer and touched her cheek. “I would have thought spending the night before his fight with you would have been motivating enough. I mean, especially if he dies in the cage tomorrow night.”
She brushed his hand away. “Don’t be a jerk. Look, I’m sorry you and I didn’t work; let’s keep things professional okay?”
“You and I will always be more than coworkers, Grace. What we had made sense. This thing with Walker . . .” He shrugged it away. “Let’s just say I’m not worried.”
“Good night, Erik.” She climbed into the car.
He held the door from closing. “And actually, you shouldn’t be worried about him either.”
She rose to the bait, despite her better judgment. “Why not?”
“Because he’s going to roll over and play dead. The fight will be over in a matter of seconds.”
She shook her head. “Walker’s not a coward. He’s going to fight.”
“Not when he doesn’t need to.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “I thought about what you said—how this wasn’t a fair fight for him. How he should have another opportunity to prove himself no matter the outcome of this bout.”
Realization dawned. “You’re bribing him to stay away from me?”
“I’m giving him options, that’s all. He doesn’t have to take it. Good night, Grace,” he said, allowing the door to close.
With a shaky hand, Grace started the car. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Walker wouldn’t choose Erik’s offer over her. He loved her. Didn’t he?
Neither of them had actually said those words, but she knew she loved him and she knew she felt loved whenever he looked at her, smiled at her, or touched her.
But his distance and coolness at the weigh-ins hadn’t felt right, and he was staying away from her until after the fight.
Oh God. The car around her started to spin, and she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. What Erik was presenting would be appealing to any fighter, especially one in Walker’s shoes. Damn, she’d never thought Erik would do something like this. Not only was it unprofessional, it wasn’t for the good of the organization. It was selfish and calculating—a side of him she’d known existed in business dealings, but had never been directed toward her. Suddenly any lingering doubt over her decision to end their relationship vanished.
However, it was replaced with a hollow emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She’d chosen Walker, abandoning her fear and putting her faith in her feelings for him. Would he do the same for her?
Chapter 14
The next morning, even coffee wasn�
�t enough to keep her eyes open after the terrible night’s lack of sleep. Lying awake thinking about Walker, missing him, worrying he would choose Erik’s offer over them was making her crazy.
She’d texted him once to say good night and once again to wish him luck, and her fingers had been desperate to type I love you, but she didn’t want the first time telling him her feelings to be by way of text message on one of the most stressful nights of his life. She doubted he’d even see it before the fight anyway. She knew Tyson had an all-in policy on his lockdown, which included no cell phones.
Still, when hers rang on the counter a second later, she dove for it. Kylie’s number lit up the screen. “Hi, Kylie,” she said, trying not to sound like the basket case she was.
“What’s wrong?”
“I said hi. How do you get something’s wrong out of that?” She forced a laugh, stalling. It was only a matter of moments before she spilled her worries out to her friend.
“Your mom’s teaching me how to tune in to my ability to read auras.”
“Over the phone?” Her friend was becoming as crazy as her mom.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?”
She had a point. “It’s nothing really. Just stressed over Walker’s fight tonight.” It was part of it, at least.
“Other than that—things are okay between you two?”
Were they? The past three weeks had made such an impact on her life. She’d gone from knowing exactly what she wanted, where her future was heading, to having it all tossed into the air in a flurry of emotions, the first moment she’d laid eyes on Walker after so many years. All of the things she thought she needed no longer seemed to matter. All that did matter was Walker—being with him, building a life with him, regardless of money or success. They loved each other and they would figure out everything else. She hoped he felt the same way, and until he said otherwise, she was desperate to put aside the nagging in her mind. “Yeah. Everything is great . . . I just haven’t seen him much this week.” With Erik, they’d often gone days with barely a hello, and it hadn’t really bothered her. Now, she felt lonely without Walker.
Love really did suck sometimes.
“Where is he anyway? I’ve been trying to reach him since yesterday . . .”
“Tyson has him on lockdown. Essentially no communication with anyone but his training camp until the fight is over.”
“Seriously? They actually do that crap?”
“Yep.”
“Shit. Well, he can’t blame me for not giving him a heads-up.”
“About what?”
“Dad’s on his way to Vegas. He’s going to the fight.”
***
The warm-up hold room in the back of the event center was a zoo of fighters, their coaches and camp team members. Some were loud as they trained, pumping one another up; others were quiet, meditative. Lost among them, Walker was trying to remember to breathe.
“Remember, the overhand right is his weapon of choice. Don’t get caught with it,” Tyson was saying.
Sure. No problem. Avoid a brutal knockout punch. Sounded like a solid game plan. He nodded numbly, and Tyson slapped his cheeks.
“Hey! Snap out of it. Remember to watch for the codes . . .”
The codes. The signs of what was coming. All fighters instinctively followed codes when they were setting up an attack. He nodded again, knowing once the door to the cage closed, Cruz’s tells were probably going to be the last thing he could remember. Staying alive would be his focus. Getting through what was sure to be a battle.
“Where are your feet pointing the entire fight?” Tyson asked.
“Toward my adversary.” Stopping the opponent from having an angle on him would prevent exposing a blind side, a weakness . . .
All of Tyson’s teaching, his rules, his techniques, and fight plan came to mind, but knowing them in the gym and using them inside the heat of the cage amid the roar of the crowd, under the stare-down of the monster across from him, were two completely different things.
Tyson gripped his shoulders and forced Walker to look at him. “We’ve got one shot. We’ve identified the only hole in his game plan. We need to take advantage of it.”
“Yeah . . .” The surprise takedown they’d trained for over and over would be quick or it wouldn’t happen at all. He knew once Cruz connected with the first lights-out punch, the fight would be over.
Pat entered the room, followed by Erik, and Tyson shook his head. “Nope. No way. Out. He doesn’t need this shit right now.”
Erik ignored him as they approached. He was silent as Pat held up a copy of the new fight contract. “Were you going to tell me about this offer?”
“No.”
Pat crouched in front of him. “Walker, listen to me. This means guaranteed fights. I’ll be honest with you. I’m a shit manager if I don’t make you take this deal. You’re not getting a contract like this again, anytime soon, especially if you lose tonight.”
“I already said, I’m not interested,” he said through clenched teeth. What the hell happened to keeping everyone away from him? Tyson leaned against the wall near the door, staring at the floor. Unbelievable. The guy really did have his own career at the forefront of his mind, not wanting to piss off the man in the organization that held all the cards.
“You’re willing to throw this gift away—for what? Some chick?”
“Gracie’s not just some chick.” His jaw tightened. His manager better choose his words carefully, otherwise a preliminary fight would be taking place in that warm-up hold room. And a knockout would be guaranteed.
“Ha! They’re all just some chick. Walker, you dropped out of law school for this. You’ve already given up everything for this opportunity. Come on, man.” He forced the contract into his hand. “Go with the sure thing.”
Behind Erik, Tyson refused to meet his gaze. Fan-fucking-tastic. No one believed he would win this fight. He was so tired of everyone counting him out before the fight even started. But, hell, if he wasn’t counting himself out . . . was he really ready? Could he actually take on this opponent and win? If not, what good was he to Gracie?
Go with the sure thing . . .
***
“Judge Adams, you made it,” Gracie said, approaching the man in the front row near the cage, looking uncomfortable and out of his element in the surroundings. The fighting world must be so foreign to the man who’d fought his battles in a courtroom for years, and now sat on the judge’s bench, deciding people’s fates. The loud music, the roar of a testosterone-rich crowd, mixed with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and blood didn’t appeal to everyone.
“Yes, well, Walker has something to prove and he can’t do it if I’m not here,” he said with a resigned shrug, but she sensed he had his own reasons for being there as well.
But she wasn’t sure if Walker was going to prove anything to his father that evening. If he’d signed Erik’s contract, the best option for him that night would be to tap out or drop quickly, the way everyone expected him to. No one would hold it against him, and he’d have a chance at redemption.
Of course he’d be losing her.
Damn, she wanted so badly to have faith in him, but men always walked away, didn’t they? At least the ones who mattered, the ones who had your heart. She swallowed hard, keeping her troubled thoughts to herself as she said, “It’s good that you’re here.” Walker’s father had never seen his son fight, and win or lose, it was a firsthand experience he needed to have if he chose to continue his battle of wills with his son.
“I’ve attended every one of his fights,” he said, his shoulders dropping. “He doesn’t know that.”
Grace didn’t speak, unsure if a reply was expected.
“Emily always told me I had to let the kids be who they were, whether it was the person I wanted them to be or not.” He shook his head as he scanned their surroundings. “She might be singing a different tune if she were standing here tonight,” he said quietly. “But maybe not.”
“It ca
n’t be easy to watch your child do something you think is a mistake,” she said gently. “But Walker wants this. I’ve never seen him want something so bad, or work so hard for it.” She prayed his commitment to fighting showed in his performance that evening.
“Then maybe it is the future he should pursue,” Judge Adams said.
“I’m sure he would love to hear that from you.”
The man sighed. “They wouldn’t let me in the training room, and besides, saying all of this to you is a lot easier than saying it to my son. I’ll work up to that,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
She smiled. “Okay.”
“I also want to thank you for everything you’ve done for him.”
“Your family was always there for me, sir . . . and I love . . .” She stopped. “It was the least I could do.”
He winked knowingly. “Emily always said you two would be perfect together. I’m glad my son finally opened his eyes.”
They took their seats, and in what felt like a blur of time passing, the first three preliminary fights were over and Walker’s walk-out music started.
Her heart pounded so loud in her ears, she had to cover them to stop her head from exploding. She stood on her tiptoes to see above the crowd as he began his walk toward the octagon.
Tyson on one side, the security detail on the other, he approached, bouncing from foot to foot and rotating his shoulders. His eyes dead ahead, gaze locked on the cage, focused, determined . . .
Look this way. Give her some sign that they were still okay, that he hadn’t traded it all away, that he hadn’t broken her heart the way her gut was telling her he had. Just look at her. Just once . . .
***
The twenty-six feet from the back of the stadium to the cage door felt like the longest walk of his life. The last three weeks played on repeat in his mind, but he forced it all away. It was too late now to change anything. Soon his fate would be decided.
As he stopped in front of the cage and Tyson reached out to help him remove his shirt, his gaze searched for Gracie. His eyes met hers through the crowd of spectators and officials between them and there was no questioning the fear and worry there. Fear and worry for what he was about to do, but also something else.
Breaking Her Rules Page 22
