by Abby Niles
“Finding out doesn’t change the fact.” She pulled the test from the bag and held it out. “Take it.”
Delaney stared at it for a moment then hesitantly took the box. Standing, she pulled down her pajama pants. To give her a little privacy, Scarlett crumbled the bag and grabbed the discarded box, tossing them in the trash as Delaney took the test.
A few seconds later, she heard a whispered, “Oh God,” and soft weeping ensued.
Scarlett didn’t need to ask for the result. Delaney was pregnant. Another moment of self-pity weighed down on her. Her best friend didn’t want to be pregnant, and Scarlett would’ve given anything to have this moment. God knew, she and Ryan had paid good money for it.
And it had never happened.
Reminding herself that this was not about her, but Delaney, she inhaled deeply and faced her friend. Still on the toilet with her pants around her ankles, Delaney had lowered her face into her hands, the positive stick pointing up to the ceiling. Her soft weeps escalated to sobs.
Scarlett hurried over and hugged her friend. “It’s going to be okay.”
“We used protection, Scar. I swear we did.”
There was no question as to who the father was. Since her breakup, Delaney had only been with one man.
Delaney suddenly snapped her head up, her eyes wide. “I don’t even know him. I’m pregnant by a man I don’t even know. What the fuck, Scarlett?”
“You have options, hon,” she whispered, even though her insides screamed against the alternatives that came to mind. But this wasn’t her life, it was Delaney’s.
Her friend pressed her head into Scarlett’s side and shook it. “No options for me other than keeping it.”
“Okay. Then where do we go from here?”
“Let it digest. Make an appointment with an OB to confirm.” She fell silent for a second. “Then tell Blake.”
“Do you have any way to contact him?”
“Nope.” Delaney gave a short laugh, straightened, and swiped at her eyes. Thankfully, it looked like the shock was wearing off. “We weren’t supposed to see each other again.”
“I can get Brody—”
Delaney shook her head sharply. “No go-betweens. I’ll find him myself when I’m ready to tell him. It’s really early still. Anything could happen. No reason to go chasing down a guy and tell him I’m pregnant only to have something happen a week from now.”
“You’re going to tell him, though?”
“Of course, I’m going to tell him.” She slapped the stick on the corner of the sink then stood, pulling up her pants. She blew out a slow breath. “I have no idea the kind of person my baby daddy is. It’s very possible he’ll deny the baby is his and make this a nightmare to prove. Or he could refuse to have anything to do with us. I have to accept the possibility that I might be doing this all alone.”
Scarlett wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You’ll never be alone, Delaney. Aunt Scarlett will be there to help.”
And just like that, she would be an aunt.
“I love you,” Delaney said around another sob.
“Girl, I love you, too.”
There was going to be a baby. It might not be in the way Scarlett, or even Delaney, had imagined it. But there was going to be a baby.
Chapter Eleven
Dinner tonight? I’ll cook. Delaney’s got a wedding shoot.
Brody reread the text, indecision warring inside him. He couldn’t put her off again. This was the third text she’d sent since he’d dropped her off at her place three days ago. So far, he’d used the excuse that training had him busy—which wasn’t necessarily a lie. With the fight only three days away, he was spending a lot of time in the gym. But he could afford a couple of hours to see her. He’d just needed the space to think.
All he’d succeeded in was missing her like fucking crazy.
He never thought he’d question wanting children, but he found himself wondering more than once if having nieces and nephews would be enough. If loving Scarlett would be enough. It was a vicious cycle and gave him a clearer picture of the struggle Tessa had when she’d made her decision. She’d chosen children. Brody wasn’t sure if he would.
The constant whirlwind in his head made him feel like he didn’t know if he was coming or going. He was a mass of confusion. Scarlett had finally given herself over to a real relationship and had dropped a bombshell on him of epic proportions. But one thing was clear—avoiding her to collect his thoughts was not working.
Let me shower & I’ll be over, he texted back.
Knowing he’d see Scarlett within the hour, he felt only excitement. Dread was nowhere on the radar. He guessed that said a lot. Maybe other people’s children would be enough.
He hurried into the locker room and found Blake tying a beaten-up tennis shoe.
“Hot date?” Brody asked sarcastically.
His cousin laughed softly. “I’m going to mow Mom’s yard.”
“Any special bump-intos happen lately?” Blake hadn’t mentioned Delaney again, so he had no idea if he’d talked to her or not.
“Nope. I’ve been down to the park a few times around lunch. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, man. But if I’m meant to see her, it will eventually fall into place, or I’ll lose interest. Right now, I’m still interested enough to go for a walk a couple times a week.” He winked at Brody as he shoved his foot into the other shoe. “What are you getting into this afternoon?”
“Scarlett’s cooking me dinner.”
“Awesome.” He tied the laces. “Fight’s in a few days.”
Three.
“Yeah.”
“How you feeling about it?”
Nervous as fuck.
I believe in you.
Scarlett’s encouraging words immediately sprang into his mind, as they had a lot since she’d said them, especially whenever a negative headline popped up. The closer the fight came, the more he was becoming the talk of the sports industry. And damn it, the pressure of having to secure a win was getting to him, and not in a good way. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous about stepping into that cage and facing off with an opponent.
Every time his head seemed to get the best of him, when Mike was giving him a rough time, or someone questioned his future in this industry, her words were there.
And they gave him strength.
He’d never had that with a woman before. Just knowing she stood in his proverbial corner, supported him, believed in him, made him want to be the best he could be for her. That was a new feeling for him.
“I’m ready.”
With Scarlett’s support, he was ready for anything.
Which made the idea of letting her go so much harder.
…
Why was she so nervous?
Scarlett looked around the small dining room.
Table set. Check.
Candles lit. Check.
Lights dimmed. Check.
Looking killer in her new pale yellow sleeveless dress. Check.
Everything was in place. Perfectly set. But her stomach was going crazy. Brody hadn’t been the same since the cookout. He hadn’t sent her a nightly text since their talk, which had finally pushed her to reach out to him. Fat lot of good that had done. Though he had responded to each one, he’d been quick to decline her offers, just like he had in the past, putting distance between them when she’d still been with her ex. All she got was a lot of, I’m really tired from training, or, training was brutal today, need sleep. And so on.
Not that she should be surprised. She’d led him to believe she didn’t want children, which she hadn’t meant to do. It just happened. As he was asking her questions, Tessa’s warning had replayed in her head, her past had roared forward, and the lie just came out then there was no taking it back. In the end, she was doing right by Brody—he wanted so much more than she’d ever be able to give him, and it was selfish of her to knowingly take him down that awful road. It was better to set him free.
She just hadn’t been prepared for how she’d feel when he actually distanced himself from her.
It scared the crap out of her.
But losing him was inevitable. If not now, then in the future when he grew resentful of her infertility struggles. So far, Brody hadn’t made the end of their relationship verbally official. Being the man he was, she couldn’t imagine him just ghosting on her. He’d tell her to her face. So he still had to be thinking about things. She wanted to spend as much time as she could with him before then. Once he ended their relationship, she would accept it gracefully and let him go.
There. She was being selfish. She wanted to see him, touch him…love him.
At least for a little while longer.
The doorbell chimed. She fluffed her hair as she hurried and opened the door. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in Brody, so devilishly handsome in his jeans and T-shirt, dark hair still damp from his shower.
“Hey, sexy,” she said then tilted her head up for a kiss.
“Hey, yourself.” The chaste kiss he placed on her lips was quick and brief. She felt the distance widening between them. Panic squeezed her throat, but she tamped it down, reminding herself that it was the way it would have to be.
“Dinner’s ready. I made a roast with potatoes, carrots, and rice. I hope you like roast. I wasn’t sure. But it was on sale, and I haven’t made one in a while, so I thought what the heck.” God, shut up. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from trying to chase away any silence.
“Sounds great.” He followed her into the dining room. “You really went all out with setting an atmosphere, huh?”
What did he mean by that? Did he like it? Was it too much?
Doubt dug its claws deeper into her. As they sat down, she passed the bowl of veggies to Brody, who served himself a small portion. He did the same with meat.
“Are you not hungry?” she asked.
“I have to weigh in on Friday. Right now I’m good, but I can’t gorge myself like I’d want to on this fantastic meal.” He sent her a smile, but there was strained edge to it.
Tension crept into her muscles, and she forced herself to relax. He had a fight in a couple of days. He was distracted. She’d already seen once how he could get distracted over a fight. She shouldn’t read too much into his distance.
Dinner was still a disaster. Brody wasn’t very talkative, and though she prattled on like an idiot, all she got from him were one or two word answers. By the time she had the table cleared, she was close to tears.
She walked into the living room. Brody was sprawled on the couch, with his head leaning back against the cushions, eyes closed. He did look exhausted. She curled up beside him and laid her head on his chest, thankful when his arm immediately went around her, his fingers playing with her shoulder.
“The next few days are going to be a bitch,” he mumbled. “Weigh-in. Interviews. Training.”
“Are you ready for the fight?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I’d love to watch you.” As soon as she said it, he stiffened underneath her.
“I can get you a ticket if you want.” But he didn’t sound like that was what he wanted.
“Next time. You have a lot going on right now. I’ll just watch it on the television.”
He didn’t respond to that. She glanced at him—his eyes were open, and he was staring at the ceiling. Indecision pulled his usually relaxed face into hard lines.
He didn’t want to be here.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I’m exhausted.”
“If you need to go home and get some rest, don’t feel like you have to keep me entertained.”
There. She’d offered the out. Would he take it? She hoped not.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Scarlett. I think I need a really good night’s sleep.” He extracted himself from her and stood.
Emptiness surrounded her, physically and mentally. Not wanting him to see her hurt, she forced a happy face and accepted his kiss—another quick one.
“I usually sleep like a hibernating bear after fight. If the kid completely destroys me, you might not hear from me for a few days. I’m going to need time to accept some harsh truths about my career.”
She hated the worry in his voice. Hated the fact that someone had made him doubt his ability in the cage.
“You do what you got to do.” She meant that in more ways than one. “Just remember, I might not be there, but I’m in your corner, cheering you on. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”
He stared at her a long moment. Emotions she couldn’t exactly read crossed his face, but she was sure she saw sadness. And there was only one explanation for it.
The possible end of his career wasn’t the only harsh truth he was accepting.
“Good night, Scarlett,” he said before he walked out of her house.
Walked out of her life. There was no doubt that she’d already lost him.
He just hadn’t made it official yet.
Chapter Twelve
The jab landed hard on Brody’s chin, knocking his head sideways, and his vision swam for a brief second.
Two rounds in and he’d give the kid credit—he was really fucking good. So good, he was worried he was going to do exactly as the newspapers had predicted and get his ass knocked out.
Brody weaved to the left, dodging another powerful throw, then countered with an uppercut. Randy’s head snapped back. As he slowly lowered it, he smiled, making the bright red word Killer visible on his mostly-black mouth guard.
“That’s all you got, old man,” he garbled out.
That hadn’t been the only comment the kid had made throughout the fight. Randy liked to trash talk. Anytime he’d get the advantage, or took a blow from Brody, he’d toss out some smartass retort.
The purpose was to get under Brody’s skin, make him angry so he’d stop fighting with his mind and just react. It was a technique he’d used once upon a time, when he’d been young and stupid, too. Now he didn’t waste his energy on shit like that.
The bell rang, signaling the end of Round Two. Brody strode to his corner as Mike and the crew entered the ring. One rubbed him down, while another worked on the cut under his eye. Mike held out his latex-gloved hand under Brody’s chin, waiting for him to spit his mouth guard into his palm.
“Kid’s got one hell of a right,” he mumbled after he took a few deep breaths.
The three-round fight had been anything but easy so far. If the match went to the judges, the scorecards would be in Randy’s favor. He had to finish it this round, and he seriously worried that he wouldn’t be able to.
“You need to be playing more offensively. Stay away from his fists,” Mike instructed.
Brody stilled as he stared at the serious expression on his coach’s face.
“You want me to dance away from him?”
“Yes. I want you to fight smart, Brody. Right now, you’re not. Randy has a killer arm. He’s going to knock you out if you continue to stand toe-to-toe with him. He hasn’t even been dazed by one of your punches. Pick your opening. Make the landing count.”
Washed up. At the end of his career. Has been. Lost his edge.
The headlines revolved around his head, festering his doubt. And Mike telling him to avoid engaging with the younger man only intensified those feelings.
That wasn’t the way he fought. He was always the aggressor. It kept his opponent off-kilter. But Randy was also an aggressive fighter. So far, they had exchanged blows for the last ten minutes, Randy’s having much more impact than Brody’s.
As much as he hated it, he saw the wisdom in Mike’s words. He finally nodded his agreement.
A loud whistle sounded. The guys quickly gathered their equipment. As Mike started to leave the cage, he clapped Brody hard on the shoulder. “Finish him.”
In other words, if Brody didn’t, he would lose by decision. No pressure. None at all. Fuck.
Once the cage was clear, he and Randy met i
n the middle. After tapping gloves, Brody backed off, allowing the other fighter to move into him. The action felt weird. Felt off. Every instinct had him wanting to charge his opponent, take control of the fight.
For over a minute, he avoided his opponent’s advances. The crowd booed. He couldn’t blame them. They’d come to see a fight, not watch two people dance around each other.
As much as he appreciated Mike’s advice, he wasn’t being true to himself as a fighter.
I believe in you.
Scarlett believed in him. Now he had to believe in himself, exactly like she’d told him to.
Because this was not how he fought. If it meant the end of his career, at least he’d go out on his terms, and he deserved nothing less.
Brody exploded toward Randy in a fit of quick punches and kicks, taking his opponent off-guard so he backed away. Brody spun out another high kick, his foot catching Randy on the side of the head. The kid’s arms lowered and his eyes glazed over. Taking advantage of the moment, Brody landed a left hook. Randy crumbled to his knees, and Brody jumped on him, continuing an onslaught of super-fast punches to his face, locking in the knockout. The referee slid between them, waving his arms.
As he looked down at his unconscious opponent, a moment of shock buzzed through his head, muting the screaming crowd surrounding him. Holy fuck. He’d done it.
Brody raised his hands over his head. Mike and the guys ran into the cage and embraced him.
“Great job, Minton,” Mike said. “We just needed to get into that kid’s head.”
Brody blinked at his coach, then Mike’s strategy hit him. There was a reason he was the best trainer in the industry. “That’s why you had me back off.”
He nodded. “He was controlling that fight. You knew it. I knew it. The judges knew it. We needed to take that control back. I know what kind of fighter you are. I knew instinct would eventually win out. I’m glad I was right.”
Instinct would eventually win out.
Just as Scarlett’s words had given him strength when he’d needed them, Mike’s knocked him hard in the gut, reminding him of the decision he had to make.
