by Cindi Madsen
So when the buzzer went off, neither one of us held back.
“Liam!” Dad strode over as soon as I stepped out of the locker room, my gaze on the door. I’d been at the gym since ten, and yeah, five thirty was a bit early for me to leave, but more often than not I put in twelve-hour days, and I’d gone harder than usual today.
Plus, Chelsea was home waiting for me, and I was eager to celebrate with her. Life could chew you up and spit you out, and I knew better than anyone how important it was to celebrate the wins. Otherwise, you risked forgetting what you were fighting for.
“Can whatever it is wait until tomorrow?” I asked. Dad thought everything was urgent, and for some reason, he loved to bring up expenses and problems with the budget right before I left for the day so I could go home and stew about them in my “off” time. Not that I thought he purposely did it, but that was almost always the result.
“Maru Tautolo’s a free agent.”
The familiar name rooted me in place. Dad, Finn, and I were constantly on the lookout for fighters. We brought in extra income with the classes, but the real money—and the trick to staying relevant—was building and keeping up Team Domination’s reputation. The more talented fighters we had, the more fighters would come here to train, and the easier it’d be to spread the wealth and keep the gym going.
We’d had a hard few years—not to mention an employee who’d embezzled a large sum of money from us—and before Shane had won his last fight, we’d been in serious financial trouble. We were far from out of the woods, and since two of our seasoned fighters had recently retired, I’d been stressing over how to fill that void. Maru, who went by the Tautolo Typhoon, was a big Samoan dude famous for obliterating fighters who stepped into his path. “You sure?”
“Just got the call. We need to go talk to him now, before the other vultures circle.”
At least Dad didn’t bother splitting hairs—we were part of the vultures. I liked to think we were more noble than most, but an ugly-ass bird who swooped down to take advantage was an ugly-ass bird. Still, we needed a heavyweight contender, and Maru was well on his way. With the right training, I had no doubt we could get him there. “He’s in L.A., yeah?”
“Yep, and I set up a meeting. We’ve gotta get going, though—traffic’s already a bitch.”
The temptation to ask if Finn could tag along instead bobbed up, but he and Shane were still working on striking drills, and he needed to focus on his fight, not worry about the gym and the team. That had always been more of my job, and I was better at keeping Dad in line anyway. “Yeah, okay. I’ll drive.”
One quick apologetic text to Chelsea and a three-hour drive later, we sat across from the Tautolo Typhoon.
“You’ve got an impressive record,” Dad said. The trick was stroking the ego while also hinting they could improve and guaranteeing we were the people for that job. “With the right training, you could be within title contention in a year. We have the connections to land you those fights, too.”
“I saw what you guys did with Shane Knox,” he said. “But I’m not sure I want to move down south.”
“Well, you would miss out on this awesome L.A. traffic,” I said, and he laughed.
“True. I just…I’ve got a girl here.”
“Girls come and go. Belts are forever.” Dad had used the line before, but it hit me stronger than it ever had. Before, it was a throwaway line, one that didn’t apply to me. Girls like Chelsea didn’t come along every day, but she would go, and in a matter of weeks at that.
She’d taken the news that I wasn’t going to make her celebration dinner like a champ, the way she always did. Because we were friends, and friends understood that kind of thing. I couldn’t help but wonder if it’d be different if…if things were different.
Dad nudged me. Right. My part. I detailed the way we trained, bragged about several of our fighters’ records, and mentioned we had a relationship with an emerging promoter who was quickly landing more venues with higher payouts. That was usually the end, but I found myself adding, “L.A.’s not that far.” Not like fucking Denver. “You know how it is with nonstop training. You only see your girl for a couple hours during the week anyway.”
That’d be me in two weeks, no life besides training camp, even before Chelsea left.
Maru ran his fingers along his jaw. “I hear you.”
“Let me guess why you left your other place…” I made sure not to say team in these situations, because we all felt some sense of duty to our teams, and a part of us always would. “They didn’t treat you like a priority. We will.”
“We’ll also push you to your breaking point and then put you back together,” Dad said. “That’s what it takes to be at the top—I would know.” He always had to slip that in, like they didn’t already know, but it was funny how saying it out loud always drove the point home. “You wanna settle for up-and-coming for a few more years, or you want people to know your name? To say that’s the guy I want to fight next?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Small, but there, and just like that, we had him.
…
“Not that I’m thinking of retiring anytime soon,” Dad said as I pulled up in front of his house. Since neither of us was big talkers, the drive back was mostly silent. That, plus it was pushing one a.m. “But it’s nice to know that once I do, the gym will be in capable hands.”
“Finn and I will take good care of it. When the time comes.”
“You’ll need Finn’s help, of course, but I’m well aware that you take on most of the finances and the nuts and bolts of the place, as well as the stress. For a while there, I worried I was going to leave you with a burden instead of a legacy. I know I haven’t always been the best dad, but I hope you now recognize that a big part of what I do is for my family. Maybe I went about it wrong, but we’ll have built something that withstands time. Our best days are still in front of us; I can sense it.”
I nodded, doing my best not to let the pressure slowly tightening my lungs show. I wanted that, too. To add my name to the list of champions in the gym and to get us back to our former glory and surpass it. I wanted to do what our name said we’d do—dominate.
But unlike him, I wouldn’t settle down and have kids I couldn’t pay attention to. If I went that route, it’d be in another five to ten years or so, when I could give my family more than a legacy. Sure, I had some fond memories, but nothing outside the gym or fighting world, and while I’d argue that we’d turned out okay, the lifestyle had taken its toll on all three of us at one point or the other. Dad, too.
Tonight had only reminded me of how far we had left to go to get the gym to where we needed it to be. We had so much riding on Finn’s fight, as well as mine, and I had a lot of blood, sweat, and tears ahead of me to ensure I walked away with the title I’d had my eyes on for as long as I could remember. As if that wasn’t enough, we’d just promised Maru an intense training program where we made him a top priority, and I planned on honoring that. But with each fighter we added, the more my already full plate filled. How in the hell was I going to do it all? Were there even enough hours in the day?
“Night, son. See you tomorrow. Not too late—we need to start working on matchups for Tautolo. Show him that we can follow through on our promises.”
“I was just thinking the same thing. Adam still needs a fight as well, but I have feelers out, so hopefully I’ll hear something soon. We did get the contract in for our newbie, and everything looks good, so he just needs to sign it.”
“Good, good.” Dad nodded a couple times, then shook himself awake and pushed out of the truck. He walked up the sidewalk, and I noticed the lack of lights inside. No one was waiting for him, and for all my talk about not being willing to pull someone into my consuming lifestyle, it struck me as sad.
It also made me wonder if we shared the same fate.
So I wouldn’t go thinking too hard about that, I buzzed to my apartment. Chelsea wasn’t on the couch, so I was sure she’d already go
ne to bed, but she’d left the kitchen light on and a line of pink Post-its hung on the fridge. Not only had she written a long-enough note to need several of the squares, she’d written them in sparkly purple pen, and affection swelled in my chest.
I bought food as promised. Not sure Italian is the breakfast of champions.
I’m guessing most fighters don’t down pasta before
they go work out all day, but maybe…
My gaze skimmed down to the next square.
You can be different from the crowd.
Start a trend. Is puking cool in the gym?
Hey, new cutting weight trend! No need to thank me.
I’m here for your…
Next square.
entertainment. Anyway, I’ll save my superlong story
about work for tomorrow, as I’m running out of sticky notes &
you don’t have any anywhere. How can that be?
XOXO,
Chelsea
In spite of being ridiculously tired, I was also ridiculously hungry. I warmed the leftovers in the microwave, and as I was eating them, I thought that at least I’d have someone waiting at home for me a little while longer.
And I didn’t want to think about how lonely it’d seem after she left.
Chapter Twenty
Chelsea
Happy hour with your coworkers. Sounded like a good idea in theory, until you remembered you were a lightweight who hadn’t had enough food, and then you worried you were about to slip up and say something that might destroy all your credibility. Or, knowing me, manage to trip and fall, even from a seated position—I’d learned not to underestimate my special skills in the clumsy department.
Which was why I’d texted Liam and told him that I was a bit tipsy and couldn’t drive, and didn’t he want to meet some of the people I worked with and have a drink with me? Sure, I could take a cab home, but I hated to leave my car at the bar all night, and more than that, I wanted to see him. Last night I’d been disappointed we couldn’t celebrate. After I’d gotten the text he wouldn’t make it for dinner, I’d decided to get him a takeout order anyway, and then I went ahead and sent a delivery order to Mom and Jesse, since I felt guilty I still hadn’t been over there. Not guilty enough to go, since they’d take my celebratory dinner and find a way to make the night about them.
Which meant I definitely needed a do-over celebration, preferably with Liam, and I was holding out hope that tonight could be our night. Besides, if he was by my side, I’d relax and have someone to catch me in case of trippage.
“Holy shit,” Ashlee said. “Look at the two hotties who just came in.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I think I finally understand the saying ‘break me off a piece of that.’”
I glanced at the door, thinking neither of them could be as hot as Liam, but I was wrong. One was. Finn came close and all, but my heart would always belong to the older, taller brother. “Ooh, those are my friends.” I waved. “They’re brothers, in case you can’t tell. They’re also MMA fighters. Their family owns a gym where they train other fighters, as well as offer classes, which is something new they’re doing, but they’re really good at it.” On a normal day I gave more than the required information, but add some alcohol, and the fun facts flowed even faster.
“Seriously?” Ashlee licked at the salt that’d stuck to her lips after taking a swig of her margarita. “Do you ever ask them to make you a sandwich?”
I scrunched up my forehead. “No. I mean sometimes Liam will make me one if he’s making one. He makes me breakfast here and there.”
Ashlee laughed. “I mean like an MMA brother on each side—you know. A sexy dude sandwich with you in the middle.”
Her words clicked together. “Ah, like a Salvatore brother thing.”
“A fellow Vampire Diaries fan—nice! And yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Technically there were times I’d ridden between them in Liam’s truck, but it wasn’t like it was some tawdry experience. Not exactly a hardship, either, but Liam always eclipsed everyone else, and I was starting to worry he always would, whether or not he was even in the freaking room.
“You know, I was always team Stefan,” I said. “That guy was strong and steady, and bad boys are totally overrated.”
“See, that’s where I’m gonna have to disagree. Team Damon all the way.”
Bracing a hand on the table, I stood as the Roth boys approached. “Hey, guys! Glad you could make it. These are my coworkers.” I went down the line, introducing Ashlee, the rest of the team, and Brad. “These are my friends, Liam and Finn. We grew up next door to each other.”
Liam bobbed his head while Finn said hello and grinned at Ashlee. I wanted to subtly tell him that I’d rather he not go there, since she and I were finally learning to push past our initial issues and get along, and I didn’t want to endanger that.
But then Liam placed his hand on the small of my back and leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear and sending goose bumps across my skin. “Hey.”
I twisted toward him and wound my arms around his waist. “Hiiii.”
One corner of his mouth tipped up.
“What?”
“Nothing. You okay?”
I enthusiastically nodded, thinking I was much, much better now. “Can we stay for a while? Maybe have another drink or two? I’ve been doing so well at being assertive, and I want to balance it by showing we’re a team, but if I start saying too much or doing something embarrassing, that’s when I’ll need you to carry me out of here.”
“Carry, huh?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not opposed to carrying you. It’s not like you weigh much.”
“Ah, look at that.” I dragged a finger down the front of his worn T-shirt. “He misses one celebratory dinner, and the flattery comes out.”
He frowned, which was the opposite of what I was going for.
“That was supposed to be a joke.”
“Funny,” he said, then he turned to Finn. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure thing.” Finn raised his voice. “Nice to meet you all. I’d love to stay, but I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and my trainer is a total hard-ass.”
I laughed, and Liam rolled his eyes. Once we’d told him goodbye, Liam pulled a seat up next to me. When the waitress came by, he ordered some appetizers, and I ordered another margarita.
One of the guys followed MMA, so he peppered Liam with questions, as well as asked about every pro fighter he knew. Brad was apparently a fan, too, and insisted the waitress bring Liam a glass of fancy scotch “on him.”
While small talk wasn’t his thing, Liam faked it well. He kept his answers short but polite and downplayed how big of a deal he and Team Domination were.
“He’s being humble,” I said. “He’s amazing in the cage, and he’s such a great coach.”
Liam reached under the table and squeezed my knee, and liquid warmth pooled low in my gut.
“Well,” Brad said after the conversation slowed. “I’m going to call it a night. We’ll have to do this a few more times before Chelsea and I head back to Denver.”
Liam’s hand tightened on my knee as my stomach dropped.
The clock ticking down Liam’s and my time together hung heavier over our heads, each falling second louder and louder. Two weeks had gone by in a blink, and I started thinking about regrets. What would leave me with more? Making things weird by asking if he’d be the guy to take my virginity? Choosing the lighter approach and hinting I wouldn’t be opposed to a with-benefits-type arrangement?
Or not taking the last chance we might have to see if we could have something extraordinary before life pulled us even farther in different directions?
My stomach swirled with nerves and desire and…well, some of that might be alcohol. Thanks to my last especially strong cocktail, I was pleasantly buzzed. Through the haze, my body was making its vote well known, though, and it was in favor of having Liam’s large hands traveling across m
ore of my skin.
Heat licked higher up my thigh, and the thought of asking Liam for what I wanted later tonight had me ordering an extra glass of liquid courage. I can do it. It’ll be better than always wondering what if…
My next drink arrived right in time to silently toast to that sentiment.
One by one, the rest of the group made their excuses and pushed away from the table. “It was nice meeting you, Stefan,” Ashlee said. Then she laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, I mean Liam.” She sent me a not-so-subtle smile that made it pretty clear that in my case, she was Team Stefan.
Oh, jeez. Time’s almost up. Since I’d already polished off my last drink, I reached for the glass of scotch that Liam had barely touched and tipped it back, coughing when it was way stronger than I thought it’d be. “So that’s how scotch tastes. I don’t like it.”
“Probably why your boss ordered it for me, not you. But since I knew I’d be driving, I only took a polite sip.”
“I just…” I peered into his blue eyes. Then, as if someone else was in control of my arm, I reached up and dragged my fingers across the side of his face and along his jaw. His stubble tickled my skin and sent a zip through my arm and down my core. “Dude, this face. Do you ever, like, think about your face?”
Equal parts amusement and confusion flickered through his features. “Not sure what you mean. It’s my face. I see it every day.”
“I see it most every day, too, and it still affects me.”
Did that just come out? Like, out loud? And why couldn’t I read his reaction? He stayed perfectly still, and I gave in to temptation and ran a hand down his chest.
“Chelsea.” His voice was ragged, deeper than usual—I was sure of it.
