The ref slides between Matt and West and checks Matt to make sure can continue. My eyes meet West’s and I nod my approval. “Keep that guard up.”
Matt waves the ref off and West refocuses on the fight. Matt’s trained and he’s experienced. He slipped into emotion and he won’t allow the mistake again. He’ll want retaliation and he’ll want it on the floor. “Stay off the floor,” I scream. “He wants the floor!”
Matt surges forward and West sidesteps the wrong way. Both of them slam to the ground and the cage vibrates with the impact. The crowd goes insane.
Matt tries to throw a knee over West to straddle. His elbow and forearm go after West’s air passage and West scrambles to move away, but Matt’s too trained to allow easy release.
“Kick your h*ps up! Get under his legs!”
West thrusts up and Matt crashes into him, sending him back down. He presses his forearm into West’s windpipe.
“Kick your h*ps up!” I yell again. “Under his legs!”
But West panics with the loss of air and his hands shoot to Matt’s arms. I bang against the fence. “Listen to me, Young!”
The reaction is instantaneous. He thrusts back up again and Matt’s grip loosens. The crowd hollers their approval when West ducks and rolls out of the hold and brings the fight back to their feet.
Matt and West round each other. The crowd claps in unison, waiting for either to attack. I glance at the ticking clock. “Thirty seconds!”
Three rounds of three minutes each and the end is near. His first competition and I know he needs to finish it out. Both of them sway with exhaustion. Matt stomps forward and West reacts by jumping out of the way. Matt will go for the knees again.
We trained for this moment. I dragged West through the mud and back again. At this point, it has nothing to do with strength, but everything to do with heart.
“Kick series!” I rattle the cage. “Kick series.”
West wipes at the sweat over his eyes and begins the dance on the floor. His legs switch as he searches for the right moment. Sensing an attack, Matt parallels, then strikes.
Matt throws a cross and West blocks and lands a front kick into his chest. Matt stumbles and I join the crowd cheering. West continues the attack, pinning Matt against the cage.
The entire arena stomps on the floor when the bell rings and the ref pulls West off Matt. West circles the cage, pounding his fist to his chest and the crowd eats it up.
With palms up against the cage, he leans into me. I wish this was the movies. I wish I could rush the cage and wrap myself around him, but there are rules and there is respect and later I’ll show him my love and gratitude. “You did it.”
West sucks in air and latches on to my fingers that I weaved through the fence. “I didn’t win.”
“I don’t care.” The decision by the judges against him should be fast. Matt scored more punches. He dominated the fight, but West stood three rounds and he sent a message to everyone within earshot of the cage: West Young has heart and he never gives up. That, in the fighting world, makes him dangerous.
He rests his forehead against the cage and I press mine against the same spot. Our fingers touch and I close my eyes, wishing we were alone.
“You’re worth it.” West is black-and-blue and bloodied and swelling. His body has been hammered and brutalized and cut. “You are worth all of this.”
“I love you,” I whisper.
The ref approaches West from behind. “Decision’s in.”
West flashes me that same glorious smile as the first day we met. “I already won.”
Chapter 82
West
Jax enters the small room wearing a shit-eating grin. Since I walked out of the cage with my defeat set in stone, the kid’s become my new best friend. He tosses another gallon bag of ice to John. “Haley’s about to kick some ass if we don’t let her in soon. How’re you holding up?”
Sitting in a chair, I’m down to my briefs and John’s adamant his granddaughter isn’t witnessing me exposed. John’s wrapped two bags of ice on my shoulder where something popped out, then repopped back into place during the fight. I hold a bag to my eye, and he sets another one on the knuckles of my right hand. “I’m fine.”
“Remarkably, you are,” says John. “But I can’t start training you again until you heal. This swelling needs to go down.”
I rub my jaw, then work it around. There’s not a spot on my body that isn’t pounding and the shock of John’s statement is enough to numb the pain for a second. “Training?”
“Payment due on the first of the month and you’re required to practice at least five days a week.”
“Bullshit,” coughs Jax. “He requires seven.”
John checks the bag of ice on my shoulder. “You’re not tapping out after your first fight, are you?”
It hurts to smile. “No, I’m not.”
“Good.”
A knock on the door sends Jax into a laughing fit. “I told you, Hays, you aren’t seeing him until he’s got...” Jax swings the door open and the words fade away.
He scratches the back of his neck and chances a glimpse at me. “It’s some guy claiming to be your dad.”
Denny or Dad? The thought floats before I can stop it. I nod and the door widens to reveal my father. He’s out of place in a pair of jeans and a collared polo shirt.
“Come on, Jax.” John stands. “Let’s go keep Haley from starting a brawl.”