“The weigh-ins, page seventy-eight,” Debbie said.
“Actually, you know what, let’s break,” Brantley said at the head of the long boardroom-style table. He stood and checked his watch. “Let’s meet back here in an hour. Refreshed and ready to work.” His last statement was directed at her.
Everyone nodded and mumbled agreement as they collected their things and left the hotel conference room, where she’d spent the last four days. Physically at least.
Parker stood and slowly gathered her purse and sweater. Her body ached from lack of training, as though her muscles were begging her to start working them again and she was starting to worry about whether she would retain enough mass between now and when they started filming. But she refused to go back to the gym. She’d even been putting off going to collect the things left in her locker.
“You okay?” Brantley asked her, following as she left the room.
“Yes.”
“Want to try lying to someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do?” he asked with a smile.
A smile that had once set her heart racing. Not anymore. And he was quite possibly the last person on the planet she wanted to have this conversation with. Tyson’s hot-and-cold, back-and-forth was killing her, destroying her focus and taking over her every waking thought. He said one thing, but his kiss and his touch and the way he just couldn’t stay away from her told her something else entirely. He cared about her, she knew it, even if he refused to acknowledge it. “I’m fine, really. I’m just looking forward to getting to LA to start the filming.” Maybe being in a different city would help. Put some distance between them and give her something else to think about. Hopefully the long, grueling days of filming would also help her sleep at night. The tired-looking dark circles forming under her eyes that week were going to take a lot of makeup magic to cover if her restless nights continued.
Brantley wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she tensed. “You know, I’ve been wanting to apologize for the way we ended things.”
“You mean, you with your penis inside Lucy?” She moved away. That was exactly how they’d ended things. An image that had taken her a long time to erase from her mind. Her heart still held a grudge.
“Come on, Parker, you can’t still be mad about that. That thing with Lucy ended a while ago. I realize I made a mistake.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, graying perfectly at the sides as though he’d placed the streaks there on purpose.
Their only mistake was being together in the first place. After experiencing what she had with Tyson, the feelings of wanting to know someone inside and out, the emptiness now that they were apart, how much she missed seeing him every day . . . she could never claim that what she’d had with Brantley had ever come close.
“Give me another chance?” He touched her shoulder and she brushed his hand away.
“No, and Brantley—if you touch me again, I’ll show you just how much I learned for this role.” Walking away, she hurried outside, desperate to get away from him.
Outside, she released a deep breath, but immediately the suffocating heartache deep in her chest returned. She could run away from Brantley, she could leave Vegas, but it didn’t matter. There would be no escaping the pain of loving Tyson Reed.
* * *
“Let’s check your weight,” Walker said, tossing him a towel as Tyson slowed the treadmill.
His recent lack of focus on his own training had resulted in weight sneaking on, which he now had eight hours before the fight weigh-ins to lose. As of that morning he had fifteen pounds that he needed to cut.
Stepping on the scale, he felt like punching it. “One fucking pound?” Three hours of cardio and one pound to show for it?
“Fourteen pounds is nothing. Last month, Dylan cut twenty-three, remember?”
He remembered the young fighter getting sick and passing out from dehydration, that’s what he remembered. Not something he wanted to go through that day.
“Let’s get the suit.”
Damn it! In twelve years competing, he’d had to rely on the rubber sweat suit to cut weight only twice. He hated that thing. Dehydrating his body made him feel sluggish and tired, and then the rebuild back up after the weigh-ins also took a toll on an athlete’s performance. “Maybe we can hold off for another couple of hours. Try the bike in the sauna first.”
Walker shrugged. “Fine man, your call. But you know what your opponent is doing right now?”
Tyson glared at him.
“He’s sweating his ass off to make sure he makes weight so he can kick your ass.”
This was why he preferred to train alone. Smart-ass comments from his cocky fighters who’d be singing a different tune if they were in his shoes didn’t exactly motivate him.
Walker rubbed his shoulders. “You need to get serious, Tyson. Dig deep. That guy training in a shittier gym across town is determined to take away your belt.”
The belt was already gone. Win or lose this fight, the heavy fine the MFL had issued and penalty of an eight-month suspension from the cage for the missing belt were weighing heavily on him. They were sending the replacement belt to his fight preparation room the following evening before the match, but he knew wearing the replacement would only remind him of the mess he’d made of his career and his life these past few weeks.
“Give me the suit.”
* * *
“We’re all heading out. Are you sure . . . ?”
“Have a good time,” Tyson said, not glancing up from his computer screen much later that evening.
Walker lingered at the office door. “You made weight an hour ago, man. You should come with us. Celebrate—put back on some of that bulk you’re going to need . . .”
“Close the door behind you, please.” Parker had arrived at the gym to collect the rest of her things and to say good-bye before she left for LA and they’d decided to go out for a “farewell” drink. He’d already said he couldn’t go and he couldn’t wait for all of them to leave. For her to leave. Once she was gone, he could focus on what mattered again—getting his mind right for the fight the following evening. Until then, he was spiraling out of control.
The door closed, then reopened a second later. “I said I’m not . . .” He stopped when he saw Parker.
“I know you’re not coming out with us so I just wanted to say good-bye.”
He swallowed hard, remaining in his chair as he nodded. “Yeah . . . good luck with the movie,” he said tightly.
“Thank you. And thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“Sure.”
“Can you at least look at me while you’re breaking my heart?” she said, quietly.
The hurt in her voice made his chest ache. Then the dull throbbing turned to anger. “Parker, this isn’t Hollywood. This isn’t a movie set.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting here.”
“You’re right. This isn’t a make-believe movie set. For the first time in my life, I’m experiencing something real with you.”
“You wouldn’t know real.”
Her mouth dropped and tears rimmed her eyes.
Damn. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. This was why he’d stayed in his office, fighting the temptation to go to her while she collected her training gear. Why he’d blocked out the sound of her laughing and talking to the guys while they all wished her luck. Why he refused to go out for a drink with them that evening. He couldn’t be trusted not to say or do something that would only hurt her further. He let out a long, deep breath. “I just meant . . .”
“I know what you meant and you’re the one who doesn’t know real. You are so afraid of letting your guard down, expecting everyone to disappoint you. Well, guess what, Tyson—you’re the one letting yourself down.”
She may be right, but he couldn’t change. He’d been this way for so long . . . never letting anyone in, yet somehow she’d managed to break down his defenses. Luckily, he had just enough strength to put them back up. “You’re leaving.” H
e shrugged. He didn’t think there was really anything else to say. In a few days, she would be back on a movie set with other actors and Brantley Cruise and he wouldn’t even cross her mind. He couldn’t compete with all of that. He wouldn’t even try. She may think what they’d had was real, but it was just because it was different, new, exciting. Eventually, she would realize that and he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to walk away then.
It was over.
“I’m not going away forever,” she said, and he cringed at the sound of hope in her voice. “It’s just a few weeks and I’ll be back for Christmas.”
He stood, pushing his chair back and grabbing his motorcycle jacket. If she insisted on staying here and doing this, he would leave. He needed to get away . . . he couldn’t be around her anymore.
“Tyson . . .” She touched his arm as he passed her, and his eyes flew to her hand. “What are you so afraid of?”
This. This thundering beat in his chest and the excruciating urge to grab her and kiss her. This unfamiliar and unwelcome longing. This feeling that he wasn’t the right man for her and he never would be. He took one step closer and risked one moment of complete vulnerability. “I’m afraid that these feelings I have for you will never go away. And I want them to—fuck—I need them to. So, do me a favor and let me go,” he said.
She dropped her hand, but her gaze remained locked with his, daring him to leave, to walk away from her again. This time for good.
So he did.
* * *
Tyson’s arms ached. Every muscle in his chest, shoulders, biceps, and forearms burned but he continued hitting the training bag in front of him in the dimly lit gym. The clock on the wall revealed it was after midnight but he knew sleep would elude him if he went upstairs to his empty, silent apartment. Everything in the world he cared about was gone—the championship belt he’d worked for all his life and the only woman with whom he’d ever felt a connection.
The harsh words he’d said to Parker replayed in his mind and no matter what he did, he couldn’t take them back.
She may be hurt now, but it was better this way. He wasn’t lying when he’d told her he wasn’t the right guy for her. She deserved someone who would do all the things she needed, say all the things she needed to hear. Someone who didn’t wake up with an anxiety attack because he’d spent the night sleeping next to her. Someone who fit into her world and someone she could be proud of on her arm at movie premieres and cast parties. He’d never be that guy. All he was—all he’d ever been—was Tyson “The Sledgehammer” Reed, light heavyweight champion . . . and even that might not last after tomorrow night.
He continued to rain jabs and straight rights on the leather, hoping the physical exhaustion he felt would eventually calm his overactive thoughts.
A long time later, he fell to the gym floor, resting his exhausted arms on his knees, as his head fell forward. His thoughts not on the fight the next evening, but instead on Parker and the empty feeling in his chest.
It was no wonder he’d avoided falling in love in the past. It fucking sucked.
* * *
How could the belt not have shown up anywhere yet?
“Okay, thank you. Let me know if it comes in,” Parker said into the phone as she paced her living room the next day. She disconnected the call to the twenty-third local pawn shop she’d contacted and sighed. What had Connor done it with it? A private sale? An exchange? She hadn’t believed it when Walker had told her about the stolen belt the night before. How could his own brother do something like that when Tyson had done everything he could to help him?
Parker scanned the list of Las Vegas pawn shops on her iPhone. She’d called them all. Everyone had said they hadn’t seen the belt come in and she believed them because she’d offered to pay an obscene amount for it. She sat at her kitchen table, looking out into her backyard, where the pool had been covered for winter and her patio furniture had been put away. She was leaving the next morning, and winter would have settled over the city by the time she got back.
She scrolled though the list again. Maybe she’d missed calling one. Part of her wanted to be done with this crazy search for Tyson’s belt he was defending in a few hours. The part that was hurt and angry and confused. But the rest of her wanted to find it for him and get it back where it belonged—in the family’s display case after tonight’s fight.
Doubt crept into her mind. Walker had said Tyson’s training that week had been off and he’d had to sweat off extra weight in the sauna. He said Tyson was still as intense and sharp as always, but he suspected his shoulder was bothering him more than he would admit. A shoulder injury he’d suffered on a date with her. She looked at the rock climbing trophy on her mantle above her fireplace next to her various actors guild awards and tears stung the back of her eyes.
How could he keep fighting his feelings for her?
She glanced at that evening’s MFL event pass Walker had given her, where it lay on her table.
Should she go? Did Tyson want her there? Other than their harsh exchange the day before, she’d barely spoken to him in more than a week and the next day she would be in LA filming. He’d told her it was over. What good could come of seeing him now?
He’d warned her. He’d told her he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. He’d said he wasn’t interested in settling down. Fighting was his life. It was the only thing that truly mattered to him. He’d warned her and she hadn’t listened.
She had no one to blame for her aching heart but herself.
Chapter 13
This was the first fight of his life he wasn’t prepared for. His walk-out music usually set his adrenaline soaring but tonight it only gave him an odd sense of foreboding. Five rounds. This championship fight could potentially go five rounds and he didn’t have the energy for one.
Billy massaged his shoulders behind him, repeating the same words he heard before every fight. “You got this. You’re a Reed. You’re a champion . . .”
Only this time the words were coming from one of his training camp fighters and not his coach. His father hadn’t shown up. For the first time in twelve years, he wouldn’t have his mentor in his corner. His voice mail message that morning had been brief, the words “I can’t watch you lose” tearing a hole through him and continuing to shatter his confidence as the door opened and the music and lights grew louder and brighter in front of him.
“Let’s go,” the security detail on his right said, as he began the long walk toward the cage. Fans on either side cheered wildly and arms flew toward him as he passed. He stared straight ahead, ignoring everything around him, jumping from one foot to the other, but not feeling his legs beneath him. He was numb.
The replacement championship belt around his waist felt heavy and he knew he wouldn’t be leaving the fight with it.
At the cage, Billy lifted his T-shirt over his head, and the official checked his gloves, his mouth guard. Tyson hit his crotch—his cup was in place. Everything was exactly the same as every one of his previous fights, except one thing—the only thing that mattered—him.
* * *
Parker took her seat next to Walker as Tyson entered the cage. She’d watched all of the preliminary fights on a monitor in the lounge of the Mandalay Bay event center, unsure whether she could bring herself to go inside, but finally, she’d summoned the courage to enter the sold-out arena.
“Glad you made it,” Walker said. On the other side of him, Grace offered a reassuring smile.
“I was in your shoes before. I know it’s hard to watch, but I’m sure he will be fine,” she said, obviously mistaking Parker’s nervousness as concern over Tyson’s welfare.
She nodded, staring at the man she was falling in love with, the man who was intent on pushing her away. He bounced from one foot to the other inside the cage, his eyes locked straight ahead on his opponent. “How’s his shoulder?” she whispered to Walker.
“If it’s bothering him, he’s not admitting it.”
Denial seemed to
be his way of dealing with everything. She looked around. “Where’s his father?” She saw only Billy and Carlos in Tyson’s corner.
“He’s not here. It’s the first fight he hasn’t attended. Said he refuses to watch his son lose.”
Wow, nice guy. “Is he going to lose?” Through the ropes of the cage, she studied Tyson’s blank, emotionless expression from ten feet away, and her own confidence for his win waned.
Walker didn’t answer.
After announcing both fighters, his booming voice echoing across the stadium, the ref moved to the center of the octagon and called the fighters in. They touched gloves and the first-round bell rang.
As Parker watched, she wished she hadn’t learned as much as she had about fighting these last few months. Back when she couldn’t tell a good shot from a crippling one, she would have been able to watch Tyson receive several jabs to the ribs and kidneys without cringing. Now, even she could see after the first two minutes he was in trouble. He was favoring the right shoulder, the one he’d dislocated, and therefore wasn’t sticking to his usual game plan, which included the untimely overhand right that effectively put his opponent to sleep each and every time.
“He looks like he’s never fought before,” Walker muttered in amazement next to her.
It was true. In training, his moves were precise, his sense of distance was on point, but tonight he was switching stance and seemed confused by his opponent’s circling. He continued to throw single-strike attacks that Calder was countering with better shots.
When Calder dropped his body, Tyson lowered his hands to defend against the takedown.
“He’s faking,” Walker muttered. “What the hell is Tyson doing? This is a signature move for Calder.” Frustration was evident in Walker’s voice as a second later, Calder’s overhand right landed square on Tyson’s unprotected temple. “Damn it. Schooled by his own fucking move.”
Fighting the Fall Page 19
