Making It

by Christine d'Abo

  Devan sat in the front seat of Meg’s car and stared out the window. She hadn’t questioned why he wanted to be picked up, nor did she pepper him with her normal questions of what had happened. No doubt that would come, but for the time being she was giving him a measure of space.

  Matthew had been cranky since he’d gotten up this morning, which hadn’t helped Devan’s mood. He’d barely slept, instead lying there thinking about Eli on the floor above him. Once again, he had a glimpse of the life he’d wanted with the man that he’d wanted it with, but this time he was the one doing the leaving.

  Ironic.

  Eli hadn’t come downstairs that morning as he was packing up, as Devan had half expected him to. Though he didn’t know why he’d hoped for that. It wasn’t going to change the fact that Eli was focused on his career, that he would do whatever he needed to in order to become the biggest named fighter he could manage. Devan, no matter how much he wanted to, couldn’t compete with something like that.

  Meg finally pulled in front of his building. “You take Mattie in, and I’ll bring the other stuff for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was strange coming back to his little home after only being away for a few days. The air smelled of baby powder and laundry. The mess he’d promised himself that he’d clean up was still strewn about his living room. The carpet was covered in stains, and he had no doubt that there were clean dishes waiting to be put away in the dishwasher.

  It was his home, and as far as he was concerned, it was damn near perfect.

  Despite it missing one key component.

  Meg banged the folded playpen as she came out of the elevator. Devan stepped aside, holding the door open for her. “Thanks, hon.”

  “No problem at all.” She looked around the apartment and took her jacket off. “How about I help you get organized before I take off?”

  “Josh isn’t expecting you?”

  “He’s gone to work. Plus, I think he knew something was up when you called at seven this morning.”

  “Sorry, that was a bit early.”

  Meg waved the comment away. “I’m here for you, no matter the time.”

  It took about an hour for them to get everything cleaned up and put away. Matthew was content to play for a while before falling asleep once more in his playpen. Being physical, taking the chance to wash and scrub and put away laundry, calmed Devan down considerably. By the time they’d finished and the coffee was ready for them to drink, he knew he was going to be able to keep it together.

  Meg must have realized it as well. Once they were seated at the table, she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. “So, what happened?”

  The words spilled from him. The reason for them being chased from his apartment, Eli looking after Matthew, them making love, the interview, every last emotional up and down he’d gone through over the past three days. The tears came at some point, but he let them fall. It felt good to finally get everything out: all the hurt and loneliness, the fact that he still loved Eli and would take him back in a second if he thought things would change.

  Devan laughed. “And do you know what’s the funniest part?”

  “What?”

  “We’re still married.” He got up and went over to the drawer where he’d kept the unsigned divorce papers for so long. The envelope was a weight in his hand. He rolled it up and squeezed it hard before turning back to Meg. “After he signed them, I was ready to drop them off at my lawyer’s. I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I thought I saw a chance that with him here, with him seeing us and clearly loving Matthew, that we might be able to work through it.” He tossed the envelope on the table in front of Meg. “Such an idiot.”

  “Him or you?” Meg picked it up and looked inside. “Do you want me to take these and drop them off for you?”

  “No.” It would be so much easier if he let her take charge and never had to think about any of this ever again. “I’ll go tomorrow. I need to see this through myself.”

  It would be the only way he’d ever feel at peace with his decision.

  Meg stood up and gave him a hug. “I’m so sorry, hon. I really thought things were different for you two this time.”

  “So did I.” Life had a way of being unfair in the cruelest of ways. He pulled away and did his best impression of a smile. “We’ll be fine. Matthew and I will go back to our routine, and I have no doubt Stephan will make sure Eli returns to Montreal so he can keep an eye on him.”

  “Like everything was before.”

  Except Devan knew so much had changed in the past month, nothing would ever be the same again.

  Meg reached for her purse and jacket. “Okay. I better get back home. I took today off so I could plan a special meal for Josh.” She blushed as she spoke.

  “Now that sounds like a loaded statement. What exactly do you have planned for Mr. Josh, eh?”

  “I took your advice. We had a long, serious conversation about what we both wanted in our relationship, in our family. He was scared, but agreed that he really did want children. He was terrified that I’d miscarry again, and he didn’t know how he’d handle that.”

  “Oh sweetie.”

  “He loves spending time with Matthew, but saw how hard things have been on you. He was scared he wouldn’t be as good a dad as you are. But when we talked about our needs as a couple, not just for now, but also in the future, kids are something that we both want.”

  Devan chuckled. “The fact that he’s holding me as the gold standard terrifies me.” He pulled Meg into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. I know the two of you will be amazing parents.”

  “Thank you. For being my friend and for being so wise. I love you.”

  “I love you too, hon.” He kissed her cheek as he let her go. “And I’m happy that Matthew will have a friend to play with. Oh my God, we can do play dates and go to the movie theatre together on Friday mornings.” Devan grinned. “Can you imagine the first few Halloweens and Christmases once they get older? This is going to be a blast.”

  She laughed. “Well, I have to get pregnant first.”

  “I have no doubt you and Josh will have a lot of fun working on that particular problem. Far more pleasant than what you did for me.”

  Meg slipped her coat on before giving his hand one final squeeze. “I didn’t see Eli, so I can’t say for certain, but from what you told me, it did seem like things were different with him this time. I’m so sorry that it didn’t work out for you.”

  “So am I.”

  As the door clicked shut and Devan turned to survey his tiny kingdom, he knew that this was his life now, for better or for worse. He was on his own.

  The days blurred together for Eli as the fight drew closer. He found conversations with anyone were annoying at best and painful at worst, so he avoided them as much as possible. Zack had given him a surprisingly wide berth at the gym, as had most of the other members. They all knew about the fight, so no doubt they didn’t want to slow down his training.

  Andrew had shown up again, his nose purple and one eye black from where Eli had hit him. Neither of them mentioned the injury, or what had led up to it. Instead, Eli pushed himself as hard as he could, beating on Andrew until they were both covered in sweat and his muscles ached from exertion.

  Today was fight day, which meant sleep and mental preparation. Warm-ups and lots of stretching to make sure he was as ready to go as possible. He’d arrived at the arena early, needing time to get his head in the game, because currently it wasn’t.

  All week, every time he stepped foot in the ring, all he could think about was Devan and the look of hurt on his face. He’d been responsible for that look twice now, and both times he’d been selfish in his reasons. At some point he was going to have to come face-to-face with the fact that no matter how much he wanted to be a part of Devan’s and Matthew’s lives, they were both better off staying as far away from him as possible.

  He ran away from mental anguish the same way he ran toward physical confron
tation: enthusiastically.

  The other fighters made their way into the locker room, increasing the chatter and general noise levels. Andrew and Stephan hadn’t arrived yet, giving him the last few minutes of peace before he would have to weigh in and see the referee.

  His phone lit up in his locker, a call coming through. Grabbing it, assuming it would be Zack or maybe Max wanting to wish him luck, he was surprised to see a number he didn’t recognize coming through. He ignored the call and went back to getting ready. The phone rang again, the same number. God, he didn’t need a distraction like this tonight, not with everything on the line. Closing the locker door, he stood up and went to look at himself in the mirror.

  While he’d only been seriously training for a month, he was in great shape. His black shorts were simple, but allowed him easy movement in the cage. He’d made sure to shave his head, but left his beard long enough to look good. It was his expected appearance, and God forbid if he didn’t give the crowds what they wanted.

  “There’s my champ.” Stephan came into the locker room. “Caulfield isn’t going to know what hit him out there tonight. Think you’ll be able to take him out in round one?”

  “That’s the plan.” After all the crap Caulfield had stirred up over the past month, he wanted to put him down fast and hard.

  His phone rang again in his locker. Crap, I thought I’d muted that.

  “I’ve been told that if you win tonight, a clear definitive win, then you’re going to be next in line for appearing on a main-card fight.” Stephan laughed and slapped him on the back. “What do you think of that, eh?”

  “About damn time.” He wasn’t worried about beating Caulfield, but the news didn’t excite him the way that it should have. A shot at a main-card event was what all the sacrifice of the last three years had been about. Now that it was almost in his grasp, Eli couldn’t muster up the emotional strength to care.

  “That’s what I said. You do your part, and I’ll make the magic happen on my end.” Stephan looked around the room. “You’re not the same caliber as the rest of them. You hit harder, faster, and fly around them. You’ve got great presence in the ring and with the press. It’s your time to shine, Eli. Knock this shithead on his ass.”

  The ref came over then, nodding to Eli. “Time to review the rules and check you out to make sure everything is regulation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It was standard protocol, and as Eli listened to the rules, nodding where appropriate, his mind wasn’t where it should be. He should be thinking about how best to take advantage of Caulfield’s weaknesses, how he’d need to wrap him up quickly once he connected with his chin. Instead, all he could think about was the look of devastation on Devan’s face when he said that Eli had made him feel invisible. Nothing in the world could be worse than that look.

  His phone in the locker rang again, drawing the attention from the ref.

  Eli winced. “Sorry. I’ll mute it so you can finish.”

  “Go ahead. We’re done here, and everything looks good. I’ll see you in the cage.” The ref nodded again before leaving the room.

  Stephan shook Eli’s hand. “I’ll head out as well. I know how much you like to be alone before a fight. I’ll see you when this is done.”

  Eli watched them leave, waiting until they’d both left before opening up his locker. The number was the same for all of the calls, and someone had left a voice mail message. Clearly, the issue was urgent. Typing in his password, he heard the last voice in the world that he’d expected—Meg.

  “Eli, it’s Meg. I’m at Toronto General with Devan and Matthew. There’s been an accident. Devan was out walking Matthew in his carriage when a car hit some ice and skidded onto the sidewalk. Matthew somehow got away with only minor injuries, but Devan’s in surgery. They won’t tell me very much. I know you’re supposed to be fighting tonight. But I . . . I thought you should know. I’m going to try calling you again. Just . . . get down here when you can.”

  The message clicked off and the voice on the other end started talking. “To erase this message, press one. To save it, press—”

  Eli turned his phone off.

  The blood drained from his head and seemed to pool in his stomach, making him nauseous. His hands shook as he slowly muted his phone and set it on top of his clothing in the locker. With a gentle click, he shut the door, then his legs gave out on him. He sat on the bench with a thud, completely unaware of the rest of the world around him.

  Devan was in surgery.

  He’d been hit by a car.

  Matthew had been hurt.

  The idea of it didn’t make sense, or seem real for that matter. Devan was so full of life, so expressive and enthusiastic about everything. To think of him in an operating room, connected to wires and tubes, a doctor doing God only knew what to him, made his skin crawl. Surgery meant he’d been seriously hurt—internal bleeding, or a horrible bone break, organ issues.

  Jesus, he’d been hit by a car.

  And there was nothing Eli could do about it.

  The other fighters moved around him, and if any of them noticed his grief, they didn’t mention it. It wasn’t until someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder that Eli mentally came back to his surroundings. It was Andrew, nose still purple and eye still black. “Time to get your hands wrapped.”

  Eli stood, as though someone had slipped a coin into a toy to get it to move. He held out his hands, but his gaze never went higher than Andrew’s stomach.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” Andrew yanked the wrap tight on his left hand. “You look like shit.”

  “My ex-husband was in a car accident. He’s in surgery.” The words left him, and he didn’t care if he’d outed himself. Devan had always been an important part of his world. He was now in danger.

  Andrew froze. “What?”

  Eli looked up, knowing tears had welled up in his eyes. “He was walking his son, and a car jumped onto the sidewalk, hitting them. The baby had minor injuries, but Devan is in surgery right now. I don’t . . .” He swallowed hard.

  He’d always considered himself a fighter, but what he’d accomplished in the ring was nothing compared to what Devan must be going through. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t be here when Devan and Matthew needed him.

  Andrew finished the wrap on his hand before checking his work. “What are you going to do?”

  “The fights have started. Our match is third on the card. I . . .” He looked past Andrew to the other fighters who were going through their own preparations. Caulfield was in a different room, no doubt pumped to try to inflict his revenge on Eli.

  If Eli won tonight, there’d be another match. Another round of being on the road, doing promotions, and coming back to empty hotel rooms. He’d cut off nearly everything from his life to chase after his dreams. He’d left the care of his ill mother to strangers, and barely took time to check up on her. None of that would change unless he did something about it.

  The question was, did he want to?

  Only a fool would think this was an either-or situation. Despite the pressure Stephan had put on him to keep things quiet, Eli knew he’d find a way. But every denial he’d be forced to utter would kill Devan a bit more.

  Due to forces outside of his control, this had become a choice.

  Devan or fighting.

  He took a step back from Andrew. “I need to leave.”

  If he was surprised by Eli’s revelation, Andrew didn’t show it. “It will end your career. Stephan will make sure you’ll never fight again. Not to mention the breech of your contract. He’ll sue.”

  “I don’t care. Devan and Matthew need me.” Eli opened his locker door with a hard slam. “Tell whoever you need to that I’m out.”

  Andrew nodded. “I’m sorry I called him a fuckboy. I didn’t realize it was a serious relationship. I’ll let the officials know. You better get out of here before Stephan hears.”

  Andrew didn’t say anything else as he left, letting Eli g
et dressed. He fumbled with his phone as he pulled on his jogging pants. “Meg?”

  “Eli, oh my God.”

  “How is he?”

  “The nurse said he’ll probably be in surgery for at least another hour. They said something about needing to put a plate in his leg. They can’t tell me much because I’m not next of kin.”

  “Who is? I can pick them up on the way if they need me to.”

  “Apparently, you still are. Devan never had that changed.” Meg made some shushing sounds. “Matthew is really upset. Wait, you’re coming? I thought you had a fight? Is it over?”

  “I’m canceling. I’ll be there in a half hour. Tops.”

  He ended the call, slipped on his shoes, and raced out the door.

  Devan moaned, unable to fully open his eyes. His brain felt as though someone had opened his skull and poured concrete inside, making the simple act of thinking impossible. He gave up trying and went back to sleep.

  Later, he woke up with a full-body shiver. Someone spoke—though he couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman—and then his body was enveloped in warmth. It seemed like a terrible idea to waste that blessed heat, so he went back to sleep.

  It was a child’s song that eventually woke him up.

  “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.” The voice was familiar, but seemed completely out of place. With great effort, Devan cracked his eyes open. It took a few blinks to clear his vision, then a few more to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was.

  Eli was sitting in an orange hospital chair with Matthew on his lap. Singing. “Mary had a little lamb, her fleece was white as snow.”

  Matthew giggled and stuck out his tongue.

  Devan watched the two of them for a few beautiful moments before a wave of pain washed up his body from his leg. “Shit.”

  Eli’s head snapped up. “Devan. Oh God, you’re okay. You’re awake.”

  Devan looked over at Matthew and saw that he had a scrape on the top of his forehead and what appeared to be a butterfly bandage on his chin. “Oh, my baby.”

  “He’s okay. The nurse said that it looks worse than it is. Josh took Meg down to Tim Hortons to stretch her legs and get something to eat. I’m sure they’ll be back in a few minutes.” Eli reached over and pushed Devan’s hair from his forehead. “How are you feeling?”