Текст книги "Fighting the Fall"

Автор книги: Jennifer Snow

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

He had to go, but not that way. Touching her shoulder, he said her name.

She moaned in her sleep as she rolled onto her back. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked just as surprised to see him there. Surprised. Happy and relieved.

Shit. That just made things a whole hell of a lot worse.

“You’re still here.” She smiled and snuggled closer.

Oh God, she was killing him. He kissed her forehead before gently easing her away from him and getting up. “Yeah, I should really get going though.” He reached for his jeans on the chair next to her bed.

“I can make breakfast . . . all eighteen hundred calories of it,” she said, her voice teasing.

He forced a smile. “I need to go kill my brother and then go see if Dane needs anything.” He expected a crazy day ahead of him—one he wasn’t going to enjoy. Dealing with Connor, trying to help Dane figure out a way out of the mess he was in, reaching out to the family of the victim, which was customary among the fighting community as a show of respect . . . Nothing on that day’s list was anything he wanted to do. As he reached for his shirt, he fought the urge to climb back in bed with Parker and stay there.

“Tyson, about last night . . .” she was saying behind him and his mouth felt dry.

He had no idea how to explain last night. Not in a way she wouldn’t feel used anyway. He’d needed her. He’d needed the comfort she could offer. And he hated his own weakness. She deserved better than the way he’d treated her right from the day they’d met. “Parker, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”

Her cell phone rang on her bedside table and he’d never been so grateful for a ringing phone. He wasn’t sure he could handle an “about last night” conversation right now. Or ever. He had no idea what to say.

Looking frustrated by the interruption, she picked it up and glanced at the caller ID before setting it aside. “It’s just my agent.”

“Answer it.” He put on his T-shirt.

“I’ll call him back.”

He could sense she wanted to answer and he really wanted her to. “No, really go ahead.”

She did a second later.

He tried to look as though he wasn’t listening but he heard every word.

“Yes, of course I’m interested. Send them over,” she said, unconcealed excitement in her voice. “We start filming next week in LA . . .”

That’s right. She would be gone soon.

“Definitely we need to have drinks. I’ll call you the minute I land . . . Okay, I have to go, though . . .”

A second later, she hung up. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem. Good news?” he asked, even though he knew he didn’t want to hear it.

“Not really. Just a few scripts he wants me to read. It’s been forever since that has happened.”

“That’s great. So you’ll be back in the spotlight in no time,” he said, hating the bitterness he detected in his own voice. He had no right to be angry with her. Yet, the idea of her moving on with her life and her career killed him, even though he’d just been ready to once again walk away from her.

Never in his life had he felt like such an asshole.

Parker stood, and crossing the room, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I have a few hours until I need to be at the hotel for the read-through, why don’t we go out to eat . . . and talk.”

Talk. As if that could solve anything. “I have to get to the gym.” He moved away from her and grabbed his shoes.

“Okay, well, I’m not sure when I’ll get there. The read-through will probably take most of the day . . .”

He pushed his feet into his running shoes without untying them. “Don’t sweat it. You’re just supposed to look good on screen anyway, right?”

Her face fell and he wished he could punch himself in the nuts. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant you’re done training now anyway, right?” She’d gotten what she needed, and now she was moving on. And he needed to do the same. Even if it meant hurting her to push her away. The way he’d needed her the night before had rocked him like no punch inside the octagon ever had. The emotions spiraling through him as he’d made love to her had terrified him, but the way she’d clung to him, gave everything to him had only made him crave her even more. And he couldn’t have more . . . not if he hoped to be okay once she realized he wasn’t the right one for her and moved on.

“Yes. I guess so. I’ll just have to stop by to pick up the things I left in my locker,” she said quietly, studying him. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing. I’m just keeping things real, that’s all.”

“Keeping things real,” she repeated.

“Yes. You needed a place to train and now you’re done.”

Her eyes widened. “What about you? You had your own reasons for letting me train there. You never wanted me in your gym.”

She was right about that. He hadn’t wanted her ten miles near his gym or his heart, but she’d somehow weaseled her way into both. Now she had to leave. And he wished she’d hurry the hell up about it. “You’re right. And now we both got what we needed, so that’s it. We’re done.”

“That’s it? We’re done? Really?” She stared at him with disappointment in her dark eyes.

“Parker, you have your career back on track, you live a life I could never even pretend I could be a part of, and I have my own shit going on. Let’s just call this what it was.”

“What was it?” she asked, crossing her arms across her body as if she knew his next words would be a blow she’d need to protect herself from.

“A good time that eventually had to come to an end,” he said as he left the room, hating himself. This was exactly why he always left before dawn. This was why he didn’t get involved. One-night stands couldn’t break him the way her pained expression just had.

*   *   *

Seeing the Sportsnet reporter van parked in the front of his gym, Tyson drove his motorcycle around the side of the building and went in through the back door. Several fighters trained in the cage, but the place was much quieter than normal. A feeling of apprehension had settled over the gym and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be there.

Leaving Parker that morning had been awkward and tense. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking the night before going to her house, but he’d been desperate and confused and he’d just needed to see her, hold her, be with her . . . But it hadn’t been the smartest or kindest thing to do when it had only made her look at him with renewed hope.

Which he’d then destroyed.

“Hey, guys,” he said as he passed the cage.

“How’s Dane?” Billy asked, leaning over the side.

News of the fight and the incident were all over every sports station that morning, and he hoped the guys wouldn’t pay too much attention to it all. They needed to be there for Dane. He was going to need all the support he could get. “I really don’t know much yet, but I’ll let you guys know what I find out okay? Try not to worry for now.”

Billy nodded.

“Your dad is in the office,” Carlos said.

Of course he was. The day wasn’t shitty enough already.

Walking in, he felt like a twelve-year-old kid again. “Hi, Dad.”

“I guess you know why there’s reporters outside.”

Everyone knew by now. “I was Dane’s phone call last night. Walker and I went down to the station. He’s pretty messed up, but Walker says as long as his bloodwork comes back clean, he should be . . .”

His father slammed the desk in front of him. Silencing him.

He clamped his lips together.

“I don’t care about Dane. I care about this gym, your career, your upcoming title match—the one you seem to have forgotten about.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“You also haven’t called the gymnastics trainer I told you to contact over a month ago.”

He hadn’t even remembered it until that very second. “I know. I’ve been distracted.” Understatement.

“Well, get undistracted!”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. What did I say about letting Connor back here? I said it would be a disaster and it was. I told you letting that actress play around in here was a mistake, and I don’t even need to ask where you were last night. So tell me something, Tyson—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m focused on my fight now.” He had less than a week to get it together. After all of the hard work he’d put into his career, he refused to just let it all slip away in this landslide of destruction. “And this thing with Dane . . .”

“This thing with Dane is ending now. We are going to let that annoying reporter in and we’re going to release a simple statement: Dane Hardy is no longer affiliated with our gym. We offer our deepest condolences to the Consuelos family for their loss. The end. No more. Got it?”

His mouth dropped. His father couldn’t be serious. He expected Tyson to turn his back on his fighter when he needed him most? His friend? “Dad, Dane’s kick was a legal head shot . . .”

“Save it. We are done doing things your way. Dane is out.” He stood and opened the office door.

“No, he’s isn’t,” he said firmly.

His father stopped.

“I’m not turning my back on him.”

“You’re willing to ruin this gym’s reputation for some fighter who should have known better?” he asked angrily.

“It will look even worse if we walk away from him.”

His father stared at the display case on the wall. “Everything I’ve ever done was for this family, for you. And right now, I need you to be the son I raised and do what I’m asking you to do.”

“You raised me not to quit and I don’t. I’m not quitting on Dane either.”

Without a word, his father turned and stormed out of the gym, holding the door open for the reporter, who rushed in, followed by her cameraman.

Great. It had taken a whole team of people to bury him in this mess, and now he was on his own clawing back out.

Chapter 12

He remembered one of his father’s trainers saying years ago that the worst shots are the ones you aren’t expecting. You have no time to prepare for their blow and the impact they deliver. The worst emotions are the same. They come out of nowhere knocking you to your knees . . . and you go down.

Opening the door to his apartment hours later, he finally understood what the guy had meant. A pair of his running shoes sat blocking the entrance and he almost tripped over them. Picking them up, his sighed. The laces were gone.

And so was Connor.

A discarded needle lay on the floor next to the couch and he threw his shoes across the room. He ran a hand over his head, standing there, without a clue what to do next. He’d put off confronting Connor the night before and that morning because he’d considered Parker’s words—that this was Dane’s fault for taking the fight. She was right. Dane would have found this opportunity to screw up his life even without Connor’s help, but his brother still had to learn to stay out of people’s business.

Looked like that wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

Grabbing a plastic bag, he picked up the needle from the floor, wrapped it, and tossed it into the trash. That was it. His brother was gone. He had no intention of getting his life back on track. He should have known better than to think otherwise. Maybe giving people the benefit of a doubt, being hopeful for a better outcome, trusting they would do the right thing was all bullshit.

Certainly seemed that way.

He went into his bedroom and his heart sank ever further as he noticed the closet door ajar. He hadn’t left it that way. He didn’t even need to open it to know the belt was gone. The day reached a record low and the desperation he felt was overwhelming. He had a fight in two days and he’d be walking into the cage without the belt, without his usual confidence and without hope.

Going into the bathroom, he turned the shower to hot and climbed in, rotating his aching shoulder, which wouldn’t ease up with the weight of the world resting on it. As the water poured down his back moments later, he rested his head against his arm. What the hell had he let happen to his life in a few weeks?

*   *   *

“Parker, your line,” Debbie, the actress sitting next to her, prompted the following day.

Sitting in the cool, air-conditioned hotel conference room, her mind someplace else entirely, Parker blinked. Damn, she needed to get it together. This movie was important; this role was what she’d been working hard for. She couldn’t let her flyaway thoughts take over as they had too many times that week already. “Oh, sorry . . .” She flipped the pages of her script. She’d totally lost track of where they were in the read-through. Again. “What scene are we on?” she whispered.

“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.” He 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.