by EMILIE ROSE
But as she sat there, trying hard to push the world out, thoughts of Kyle pushed in. She thought she’d put aside her personal feelings. After all, he’d made it clear his curiosity had been satisfied. Still, that kiss lingered like a ghost on her lips, and while that night shouldn’t have meant anything, she couldn’t help replaying it over and over.
Angry at herself for caring so much, she hastily wrapped her hands, put on her hoodie and running shoes and stepped out. Tito and Orville took her to a curtained-off area padded with rubber mats that served as a green room. Her fight with Heimer was fourth on the card, so she warmed up while they waited. Every time someone stuck their head in, her hopes shot up. But it was never Kyle.
“Head in the game, Twilight,” Orville barked when she glanced over her shoulder yet again.
Bella scowled. “Y’know, it used to be my name meant beautiful.” She threw a hard right hook at the mitts Orville held, making him grunt.
“You’ll be lucky if the name doesn’t stick,” Tito commented. “You ought to pick something.”
“How about ‘the Beast,’” Orville suggested, and got a hard left jab he nearly didn’t catch.
“Too cliché.” Tito rubbed his chin. “Maybe ‘the Babe’?”
“‘The Brat’!”
“How about ‘Bella Bootylicious Fiore’?”
“Will you two shut up?” Bella laughed finally. “You’re messing up my mojo!”
Orville tsked. “Oh, this isn’t good. She’s laughing, Tito.”
“Nerves,” he agreed solemnly, and tickled her in the ribs, sending her into another fit of giggles. She punched him hard in the arm, and he hissed and rubbed his shoulder. “There you go. She just needs to loosen up.”
“You’ll do all right, Bella.” Orville looked toward the entryway again, and his mouth tightened. “He’ll be here soon.”
* * *
KYLE CIRCLED THE parking lot a third time, tires squealing, but it was no use. The place was packed. He checked the clock again and swore—why had Vinny called right when he was about to leave? The guy had the worst timing. But he’d absolutely insisted on going over the marketing plans Kyle had sent him, saying it’d only take a minute—it had taken forty. It might have gone on for another forty except that a real emergency had interrupted the call: a client had dropped a dumbbell on his foot, and Kyle had to drive him to the hospital. He dreaded the paperwork to come.
He ended up parking two blocks away from the stadium and jogging to the entrance. Inside, he could hear the crowd shouting and hooting. It took an interminable five minutes to get through backstage security.
“I’m sorry, you’re with who?” the bald security guard asked.
“Bella Fiore,” Kyle shouted again over the audience’s catcalls.
The beefy man scowled at his list. “Is she one of the ring girls?”
“She’s fighting Betty Heimer,” he said impatiently.
“Oh, you mean the chick fight. That’s happening right now.”
“What?” He couldn’t see past the partitions. The place wasn’t as big as he thought it’d be, but the stands were packed. The guard stopped him as he started toward the cage.
“I need you to sign in and get a badge,” he said.
“I have to get in there right now.” He deked around the guard and hurried through the maze of partitions. Finally, heart pounding, he joined Tito and Orville in their corner.
Tito barely glanced at him. “About time,” he bit out. “We’re two minutes into the first round.”
Bella bounced on the balls of her feet, bobbing and weaving and keeping in constant motion. Kyle recognized Wayne’s techniques in action. Betty Heimer moved more slowly, conserving her energy, testing Bella with strikes she easily dodged. She was circling, waiting for an opening. Her face was fixed in pure concentration.
“C’mon, Bella,” he shouted, beating his palm against the edge of the mat. “Keep it grounded. Don’t tire yourself out.”
The moment the words were past his lips, everything fell apart. Bella looked away from Heimer—a rookie mistake. She met his eye as her feet shifted into a staggered stance, preparing for a wrestling takedown, leaving her guard wide-open.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. In the split second it took for Bella to transition her footing, Betty slid forward and walloped her with a right hook.
Bella’s eyes blanked, her mouth guard protruding from her lips.
She hit the floor with a resounding boom and didn’t get up. And Kyle knew without a doubt it was his fault.
* * *
“BELLA. BELLA, CAN you hear me?”
The world shifted and spun around her. She heard people talking, but the voices faded in and out between the strange ringing and hooting sounds.
A man was kneeling next to her, snapping his fingers, calling her name. She felt as though she were trying to swim to the surface of a murky lake in the dark.
“Bella.” Kyle’s voice cut through her stupor. Her eyes snapped open, and she remembered.
The fight. She’d lost. She’d been knocked out, and she’d barely started that first round....
She pushed herself up, realized she was still in the cage. “I’m fine.” Pain shafted through her head and a wave of dizziness rolled through her. Someone checked her eyes, asked her questions, then stood back.
“You’ll be all right. Don’t get up too quick.”
“Yeah.” She staggered to her feet and shook herself off. If she was going to lose, she was going to do it gracefully. The announcer declared Betty Heimer the winner and raised her hand. The crowd’s mild applause and boos sank into Bella, who focused on keeping herself from swaying.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Betty said in her ear as they hugged.
“It’ll take a lot more to kill me.” Bella forced a smile. “Congratulations.”
Betty clapped her on the back and left, but she looked far from satisfied. Bella wouldn’t be happy about a victory like that, either. It seemed more like a fluke than an actual win.
She was still in a daze as her corner ferried her off to the doctor’s examination room. The physician, a middle-aged woman, made her lie down as she checked her over. Kyle, Tito, Orville and some official crowded into the tight space, looking grim.
“Don’t move,” the doctor ordered her sternly. “I have to make sure you haven’t suffered any major effects apart from a concussion.”
“I’m fine, Doc.”
“Don’t argue with her.” Kyle sounded angry. “She needs to do a full exam. It’s the rules.”
Bella heaved a sigh and stared at the ceiling. Cristo, she wasn’t a fragile little bird. The only thing that hurt was her pride. How could she have made such an amateur mistake? She’d shut out the booing and catcalls, she’d closed off her mind to everything, even her corner’s cheers. But the moment Kyle had walked in...
Her skin erupted in goose bumps and she shivered.
“Are you cold?” Kyle asked, then barked, “Someone get her a blanket.”
“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, eyes burning. “I’m fine. I don’t need a blanket. I don’t need anything.” She could feel heat radiating off her cheeks. She was humiliated.
With a quiet, steady voice, the doctor ordered, “Gentlemen, please wait outside. I need to see my patient privately.”
They stumped out in silence. The physician carefully checked her face. “That’s going to be a hell of a shiner.”
Bella didn’t say anything. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“On the upside,” the doctor added, “at least this won’t count toward your record.”
But it did, she thought bleakly, hugging herself. Bella had lost more than an exhibition match. She’d lost everyone’s respect.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT HAD BEEN a bad fight and everyone knew it. Maybe that was why the staff tiptoed around Bella for the rest of the week. No one could even look her in the eye without wincing, and the bruises weren’t improved by the angry scowl she wore. It got especially awkward when footage of the spectacular knockout made it onto YouTube. By the time it reached Kyle’s laptop, “Hot chick gets KO’d” had been viewed over 150,000 times.
It was hard when you lost, but it was especially hard when you knew it could have been easily prevented. Kyle felt bad for her. He felt bad for everyone. Tito, Orville and Wayne had worked hard with Bella. They’d all been expecting results. But one moment of distraction, one little slipup...
He dug his thumbs into his jaw and pressed his fingertips into his temples. This was his fault. He hadn’t adequately prepared Bella for this match. He’d done nothing but ignore or distract her since she’d arrived. That the loss didn’t count on her record hardly mattered. The video footage had made the highlight reels of many MMA websites. Bella had become a laughingstock.
Five days after the fight, the day before Thanksgiving, a call came for Bella.
“It’s your grandfather,” Liz said, her face a touch pale.
Bella stilled, and her lips compressed into a tight line. Kyle offered her his office, and she marched in, chin held high.
He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he ended up using a table just outside his office to fill out some insurance forms. At first, it seemed like Bella was having a normal conversation with a family member. But since it was entirely in Portuguese, he had no idea what she was saying. Then her voice rose, and her objections came out in harsh syllables. She looked up to see him watching her from the doorway.
Her shoulders were bunched up to her ears, and her face was pale. She held the receiver an inch away from her ear. The stream of abuse pouring from the phone was unmistakably scathing.
His hands flexed into fists. Kyle wanted to take the phone from her and yell at the old man to give her some slack.
Her voice grew rough, defeated. “Sim...sim...sim, Avô.” She glanced at him. “I have to...” Her lips compressed and she gently hung up the phone. She took a deep breath and hugged her elbows. “My grandfather heard about the match. He’s so mad at how bad the loss was that he’s threatened to disown me.”
Kyle suppressed the choice insults he had for Fulvio Fiore, but instead he said, “He’d be wrong to. Everyone has bad fights.”
She nodded but didn’t look convinced. “So what’s the word, Coach? You gonna fire me?”
“Fire you? Why?”
“Because I’m a loser. Because I’m obviously not qualified to teach anything after that match.” It was clear from the deadpan way she said it that she was parroting what Fulvio had told her. But the slight tremor in her voice told him she’d fully expected him to obey what he assumed were her grandfather’s wishes.
“If anyone’s at fault, it’s me.” He glanced out the door. People milled about, trying to catch lingering bits of their conversation. He marched to the door and slammed it shut. “Sit.”
She slid into a chair and slumped back, unable to meet his eye.
“Listen. I’m not going to fire you. That fight was an anomaly. You know anything can happen in the cage. If you need to blame someone, blame me. I didn’t give you what you needed. And you paid the price because I neglected your training. I failed you.”
And he had. Utterly. Admitting it and seeing that look of defeat in Bella’s dull green eyes brought it home. He’d let this happen. He’d let his personal feelings interfere with his work.
He planted his palms on the desk. “From here on in, I’m giving you 100 percent. You lost because I didn’t take you seriously. I didn’t give you the right tools or enough of my time. I promise I will now.”
She sank deeper into her chair. “I don’t even have a fight coming up.”
“That doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Your goal was to become a better fighter. I’ve been teaching you wrestling techniques all this time, and I ignored the fact that you’re not a wrestler. You were going to go for a takedown, weren’t you?”
She nodded.
Kyle thought as much. Replaying the fight in his head, he knew that the moment he’d opened his mouth, Bella had shifted because his voice had triggered her into taking a staggered stance. It was a Pavlovian response: the same thing had happened to Kyle whenever his father had pitched his voice in certain ways. They’d drilled that way, too, with Dad shouting instructions and Kyle going through the motions like a trained monkey.
“I’m sorry, Bella,” he said. “I promise you, this is not the end.”
Her weak smile didn’t reach her eyes. Skepticism haunted them instead.
Don’t you give up. Don’t you dare give up. Defeat is for people who are too lazy to try anymore....
His fingers clenched as his father’s voice rang in his ears.
He had no intention of giving up on her. Not by a long shot.
* * *
PAYETTE’S WAS CLOSED for the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. Bella spent that time exploring the local tourist attractions. She could have stayed home and trained, but after the Heimer fight, she wasn’t in the mood.
At Liz’s insistence, Bella had turkey dinner with Liz’s family. The Gonçalveses were a happy bunch who’d come to the States from Portugal more than four decades ago, and they were thrilled to speak with Bella in their native tongue. The following day, Liz took her Black Friday shopping. It seemed Liz was bent on cheering her up.
Bella wasn’t usually one to throw herself a pity party, but there was something more to the malaise that had invaded her. Maybe she was homesick. Or maybe she should’ve sat down and talked to Kyle about that kiss. If she’d brought it out into the open instead of letting her thoughts fester...
No, that couldn’t be what was bothering her. This was about her confidence. She had to accept the defeat and move on. She couldn’t let one mistake at an exhibition match define her career.
“Hey!” Liz waved a pair of socks in front of her face, tugging Bella from her thoughts. “Everything okay? You haven’t bought a single thing.”
Bella shrugged. “I don’t see anything I need.”
“This isn’t about need,” Liz said, laughing lightly. “It’s about crass consumerism. Contributing to the economy and providing jobs, something, something.” She gestured vaguely with her hands and grinned.
“If you’re going to return half this stuff next week, why even bother?”
“It’s tradition.” They elbowed their way through a crowd. “And it’s a good workout. Trust me, it’ll get your blood pumping.”
She was right about that. Eventually, Bella picked up a few T-shirts and a dress marked down almost 80 percent, but her patience hung by a thread by the time they were lined up at the cash register. There, she yelled at a guy who was pushing an old woman with his cart. She told him to knock it off. When he yelled at her to mind her own business, Liz joined her and soon, the whole lineup was shaming him until he abandoned his purchases and left the store.
“That was horrible,” Bella said as they piled into Liz’s car.
“But you had fun, right?”
“Actually...yes.” She laughed. It had taken her mind off her gloomy thoughts. And seeing how awful other people could be made her feel less bad about herself. She told Liz and laughed. “I must be crazy. And a terrible human being.”
“Black Friday and Boxing Day shopping are as close to competitive fighting as I’ll ever get,” Liz said, pulling out of the lot. “It’s the only time I’m not afraid of being punched in the face because I’ll probably punch right back.”
They went to The Spot for dinner and drinks. They were talking and laughing and enjoying the evening when Kyle walked through the door.
“He didn’t go home
for Thanksgiving?” Bella asked, trying to hide her sudden breathlessness with her whispered question.
Liz sucked in her lip. “He hasn’t gone home for the holidays since his dad died.”
“His mom’s still around, though, right? And he has a sister.”
“I don’t like to talk about people behind their backs.” Her gaze shifted to her lap. Liz obviously knew more than she let on.
Bella supposed some families simply didn’t get along the way hers did—when they did at all, she thought wryly—but she didn’t think that was the case with Kyle. There was more to him than the playboy coach and former Olympic athlete he showed the world. She thought she got him: he had a tough Dad, high expectations of himself, commitment issues...but there was something else going on. He was holding back some part of himself.
She thought about the Bourne-Mortensen fight she’d watched when she’d first come to The Spot, and remembered how Mike Bourne had stayed out of reach. Kyle was kind of like him. In the fight, but keeping himself from engaging, staying at a safe distance, afraid to get personal or messy.
He scanned the room, slowly walking along the bar, presumably trawling for a lonely young lady to sit next to. The bar was sadly empty of college coeds, though. Bella felt a little sorry for him. “Hey, Coach!”
“What are you doing?” Liz whispered.
“You said you don’t like talking about people behind their backs. So let’s talk to his front.” She studied Liz’s rapid blinking and said, “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She put on a broad smile as Kyle approached. “Hey, boss.”
“Come and join us,” Bella invited, patting the seat next to her. “Or are you meeting friends?”
He slid into the booth. “Not tonight. I was...” He trailed off. “Looking for a good seat.”
