“Fuck yeah!” Adam shouts. “Hit him again, Curtis! Get that motherfucker.” How is that the same guy who came to the hospital tonight to get Psycho Stalker Barbie off my back? How is that the same guy I loved and would have married?
Talk about dodging a bullet there.
I pull away from Hayes and turn to Adam, ready to hit him everywhere he’s urging Curtis to hit Roman. I start to charge at him when a hand wraps around my waist. Hayes is pulling me back.
“That won’t help Roman,” he tells me sternly. “If you get into a shouting or fistfight by the looks of you with your ex, Roman will get distracted, and he can’t afford to get distracted right now.”
Ugh!
“Adam, you’re the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Who cheers for someone else to get hurt?”
Adam gives me a look, his eyes all glassy, and his friends around him watching me with equally drunk eyes. How much did he have to drink tonight?
“The ex-best friend of the guy who stole my girl. That’s who. I think I’m entitled to my cheering, Braelyn. When will you see that he’s bad news? He’s going down. And when that happens, there will be plenty of time for us to talk about everything.”
“Yeah, not gonna happen.”
“He is!” he swears adamantly, but he totally misinterpreted what I was saying. Adam could be the last man on earth, and the survival of humans was in my uterus’s metaphorical hands, and I’d sit my ass on a beach with my vibrator and watch the world end.
Hayes gives me another tug, and I willingly go back to him. Adam’s not worth my effort. I stand with my back to the ring, grateful I chose this position as another round of jeers and “ohs” hits the air. It smells of sweat and blood and pain, and my insides roil.
Forest and Hayes are tense, their bodies rigid, but they’re staying quiet, holding vigil beside me.
The end of the round is called, and I release a breath. I’m shaking terribly, and I spin around, my arms wrapped around my chest while I search and search, but I don’t see him. He never takes these breaks. He usually comes over and chats or smiles or makes sure that I’m okay amongst the fray.
But he’s not doing that tonight.
Forest locks an arm around my shoulder and holds me close, Hayes tightly against my other side.
“Just breathe, Brae,” Forest whispers to me. “It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” Hayes agrees. “He might not be as pretty as he normally is for a while, but he’ll be fine.”
I’d laugh or smile at that if it were possible for me to.
The next round starts and it’s the same as the others with Curtis wailing on Roman, who gets a hit in here or there. I’m not sure how much more I—or Roman—can take. Romanmanages to stay up through the fifth, but when the sixth round starts, everything changes.
Curtis comes out swinging, and Roman doesn’t see it in time or is too banged up to react as he otherwise would. Curtis nails Roman in the face, and Roman goes down hard. A scream lurches from my throat, and I bury my face in Hayes while clutching Forest’s arm. I can’t watch. I can’t fucking watch.
But I also have to see, and I peel my face away from Hayes’s shirt just as the announcer calls out, “One.”
Is Roman out? I can’t tell. He’s on the ground and it’s not looking good. Adam is hooting and hollering, cheering and talking about how much money he just won. I can’t pay attention to him. I’m too focused on my guy on the ground.
“Two.”
Jesus. My heart is pounding so hard, and I don’t want Roman to lose, but I also want this to end. I don’t want him to get hit again. I can’t take it and he can’t either.
Just before the announcer calls three, Roman moves and slides himself up to his feet.
“No!” springs from my lips.No more. Please, Roman, no more.
Roman staggers a step, and the announcer guy checks him. I can’t hear what Roman says, but whatever it is, it appeases the guy because he steps back. Curtis’s smug grin slips when he sees Roman back on his feet. He thought he won. He thought that was it.
He squares his shoulders, gives Roman an incredulous head shake, and gets himself back in position to end this once and for all. Curtis charges like a bull, his arm up and fist rearing back. Just before he makes contact, my eyes slip closed, but then I hear a different noise from the crowd. Shock and delight.
“Holy shit!” Hayes yells, shaking me.
I open my eyes to find Roman pounding Curtis’s face and stomach. Blow after blow, hands switching off. Fists covered inblood. Muscles moving as if he had never been on the ground or hit once.