Against the Ropes (10 page)

“So, are you two back together yet or what?” Max said.

Dylan’s head snapped up and he looked at Max, who was grinning.

Dylan turned to Regan and she smiled. “We’re getting there, Max,” she said, staring at Dylan.

“Getting there?” Dylan asked. As far as he was concerned, they were a couple, and it worried him that she didn’t see it that way.

Regan shrugged. “Okay. Yes. We’re back together, Max.”

Dylan let out a sigh of relief, and Max laughed softly. “I knew my plan would work.”

Dylan and Regan looked at each other, obviously confused.

“Your plan?” Dylan asked.

There was a beat of silence.

“I probably should just keep my mouth shut now,” Max said, closing his eyes.

“No, let’s hear about your scheming, old man,” Dylan said, smiling at Regan.

“Nah. I’m tired. You two go home.”

“No, Max, you brought it up. Spill it,” Regan said.

Max sighed and looked at them both. “Regan, I’ll talk to you privately.”

“Max—”

“Quiet, Dylan,” Max said. “I talk to Regan only.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dylan and Max went back and forth a little, but as always, Max got his way, and Regan stared at him expectantly while Dylan went to the waiting room by the elevator.

Max had made it perfectly clear that this was indeed a private conversation.

Regan sat on the edge of her chair and eyed Max warily.

He held out his hand, and she set hers in it.

“Ah, Regan,” he said. “I may have lied to you a little bit, but I’m not sorry I did.”

“What did you lie about?”

“I’m not going to be destitute if Dylan doesn’t win this fight,” Max said with a sigh. “I made that part up. I needed to tell you something to have you move here, and I knew you wouldn’t do it just for Dylan. I thought there was a chance that you’d do it for me.”

Regan shut her eyes. She had been totally played and couldn’t help the anger she felt, even if Max was dying.

“I know you’re pissed and I don’t blame you, but you listen to me, Regan.”

She looked at him and he squeezed her hand. “You and Dylan have something special, something where time and space don’t matter. I knew it the first time I saw you two together, and the fact is, you are going to be miserable without each other.”

Regan’s anger softened as she thought about his words. It was true. It was as if she and Dylan were supposed to be together as two halves of a whole. However, she wondered how much of it was planned. “Did you know I was living in Indio?”

“Yeah, I did. I had to hire a private investigator to track you down, but once I found you, I kept tabs on you and what you were up to, which was a whole lot of nothing if you ask me.”

Regan smiled. He was right on that one, but it still stung to think of how many years she’d wasted.

“I got Dylan in that fight, and I paid Blondie to bring you to the casino that night.”

“Max!” Regan said, horrified. She felt her cheeks burn. “How could you do that?”

“I needed you and Dylan together. I needed you to see each other and remember how good you had it until he messed it up.”

Regan shook her head, remembering that Brett had acted like he didn’t know Max and even asked for a picture with him. She asked Max about it.

“What can I say? The guy deserves an Oscar for that performance,” Max said with a smile.

“Max, I cannot believe that—”

“Regan, listen to me. You and Dylan are halves of a whole. He’s the brawn, you’re the brains. He’s darkness, you’re the light. I’ve never seen two people who belong together more than you two, and it’s a shame that Dylan got so arrogant and pigheaded and messed it all up. There would have been a lot of heartbreak saved on both sides if he’d just kept it in his pants.”

Regan winced, remembering the pain that Dylan had caused her.

“But that’s over now. He’s finally a man; he needs you and you need him.”

Max closed his eyes, his speech ended.

Although Max had lied to get her to where she was, Regan knew he was right. She and Dylan did belong together, and she found it hard to stay angry with him.

“Now go home,” Max said, giving her hand another squeeze. “I’m tired.”

Regan rubbed her thumb over his papery skin and tears sprung in her eyes again. “When are you getting out of here, Max?”

Max didn’t look at her. “I’m not, honey. I’m going to die right here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The ride home was quiet, Dylan and Regan holding hands on the center console as Dylan drove. His heart was breaking at the thought of losing Max.

“He said that? He said he was going to die there?”

“Yes,” she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

“Christ.”

Dylan’s head spun as he thought of all the things that were coming up. He had radio and TV appearances to make, a weigh-in, and the fight. He couldn’t possibly get through any of that, not with Max so sick, and decided he would bow out of the fight. His mind was too scrambled to do much of anything else.

Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any remorse or regret about it. As he looked over the past year, he realized that there had been whispers within him telling him that maybe it was time to throw in the proverbial towel and find something else to do. He wasn’t twenty-two anymore, and although twenty-seven was still young, in boxing, it wasn’t a good time to be starting over as he was. Sure, there were stories of men beginning their boxing careers in their late twenties and succeeding in the pros, but those were the exceptions.

What would he do instead? He could certainly train others. Maybe he could open a gym for wealthy guys who wished they were boxers but sat behind a desk all day instead. And maybe with that work, he could help underprivileged kids just as Max had done.

His breath caught in his throat as he thought of his life without Max.

“I need to cancel the fight,” Dylan said, as he pulled into the garage. “I can’t stay focused with this going on.”

“Let’s talk about that tomorrow, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Regan. I can’t do it. I don’t have a trainer. My brain’s too messed up to even think about it.”

Regan laid her hand on his arm. “Tomorrow, Dylan. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

He studied her face and then nodded, shut off the car, and they went into the house that seemed empty without Max’s presence.

They stood in the kitchen, she against the sink while he leaned against the stove.

“Do you want some wine?” Dylan asked after a few moments of silence.

Regan nodded, and he went to the refrigerator to get the bottle and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He handed her the wine and went back to his place against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m exhausted,” Regan said as she sipped her wine.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her to him. They stood for a long while finding strength while holding each other, Regan’s head resting on his chest.

She looked up at him, and he bent down to kiss her long and slow. After a few moments, the temperature in the room spiked; somehow Regan had maneuvered herself so that she was up on the white-tiled counter, her legs wrapped around him, both of them tearing at their own clothing, as well as each others, desperate to find skin-to-skin contact.

Regan’s skirt was pushed up to her waist and her T-shirt lay on the stove, while his was on the floor. Dylan reached down and snapped the silky string to her underwear, destroying them for future use. Running his finger up and down her slick center, she moaned and freed his sex from his jeans. He pressed into her and her strong legs gripped him around the waist, pulling him closer. As his hips slammed into hers, he realized that this was about far more than sexual pleasure—it was reaffirming life, for both him and Regan. Her fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at it passionately, and her lips danced over his urgently, more so than he ever remembered. Death was at their door and they were determined to fight it off, at least for a little while, with love, passion, and pleasure.

The orgasm curled his spine and sent shockwaves throughout his body. He held on to the counter to keep from falling to the floor as Regan’s hot core pulsed around him. She fell against him, both breathing heavily.

After a moment, he tucked himself back in to his jeans, picked Regan up and carried her to his room. He removed the rest of their clothing, and they fell asleep, a mess of tangled limbs. Their grief was pushed aside, at least for a short while.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Dylan, you need to fight,” Regan said the next morning as they stood in the kitchen.

“How? I don’t have a coach. I can’t go out there without someone in my corner!” Dylan said pacing the small space.

Regan watched him as she leaned up against the sink, blowing on her cup of coffee, counting his strides. It took four for him to get to one side.

“And I’ve got all this media shit that I’m supposed to do, and my head’s not in the game. All I can think about is Max. I need to pull out.”

Regan knew in her heart that if he didn’t fight, he would regret it for the rest of his life. The fight was important on so many levels, the first being that it was his shot at the pros. Second, Max had sacrificed so that Dylan could get this fight. If Dylan didn’t get in that ring, it would be a slap in the face to Max.

“Dylan,” she said softly, placing herself in his path, hoping she didn’t get run over, “you need to do this for Max and for yourself. I know it’s hard to push aside everything that’s going on, but you need to.” She placed her hand on his chest. “We can do this, Dylan. Together. We can do this.”

His dark gaze bore into her, and he opened his mouth as if he were going to argue, but then shut it. He looked out the small window above the sink, and then back at her. “Okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. As she laid her head on his chest, she heard his heart beating rapidly, as if he were scared or nervous. And frankly, there was a lot going on to encompass both emotions. Dylan, in essence, was losing his father. He had never stepped into a ring without Max at his side, and this upcoming fight would be the first time. “With you in my life, Regan, I can do anything. I love you.”

Tears stung her eyes at his words. How she’d missed hearing them, and how she regretted the time they’d lost together, but it was what it was. Dylan needed to travel his own path, make his own mistakes, but thankfully, he had found his way back to her. “I love you too, Dylan.”

Later that afternoon after a PT session that once again ended with both of them naked and sweaty, they went to visit Max.

“Max, we need a list of people we can call to be in Dylan’s corner at the fight,” Regan said as Dylan looked out the window.

Max nodded and ticked off a list of names for her. “Out of all of these, who do you think is going to be the best for him?” Regan asked.

“Call George first, honey,” Max said and shut his eyes. “He’s a good guy and almost made the pros himself. He knows what it takes.”

Regan nodded and stared at Max for a while watching his chest go up and down at a consistent rate. They had met with the doctor earlier, and he had confirmed the cancer had spread to Max’s brain. He didn’t give Max more than a few weeks to live. She couldn’t believe that he was dying.

Tears welled in her eyes, and Dylan stepped up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She threaded her fingers through his.

“I think he’s sleeping,” she whispered.

Dylan squeezed her hand, and she stood. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to focus on Dylan and getting him through the next few days, and then through the fight. Max would want that. There would be time for tears and sorrow later.

“Let’s go,” Dylan said in a low voice.

Together they walked out of the hospital, hand in hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dylan watched as George wrapped his hands. It was strange to have someone besides Max at his side before a fight, and Dylan was doing his best to focus on what George was saying, but it wasn’t easy.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of activity. When Dylan had called George and told him the situation, he had immediately signed on to help. George had spent hours training and sparring with Dylan while Regan made sure he gave his interviews to the papers, made his appearance on the sports segment of the local nightly news, and got to the weigh-in. The interviews were difficult as they all wanted to discuss Max and what his absence would mean for the fight. Of course, Dylan gave the reporters a line of how Max’s condition only made him want to fight harder, but the truth of the matter was that Dylan was still in such a state of shock, he had no idea what would happen in the ring.

In between all that, he spent as much time with Max as he could.

“You looked good on TV last night, Dylan,” Max said, his voice raspy. Again, Dylan was stunned at how fast Max’s health was declining. He looked like he had aged twenty years this past week. His skin was an ashen color, almost matching the white bedding he lay on, and he seemed to be shrinking beneath the covers with every passing day. The nurses assured Dylan that there was still a spark within him based on how he was flirting with them, and Dylan could see that Max still had the twinkle in his grey eyes. “Thanks, Max.”

“Was it Regan’s idea for you to wear a tie?”

Dylan nodded.

“You looked smart. Upper class. Like you really had your shit together.”

Dylan smiled, wishing he did. “Sometimes looks can be deceiving.”

“It don’t matter,” Max said. “All that matters is that son of a bitch you’re fighting thinks you’ve got it together.”

“Dylan, what did I just say?” George said, bringing him back to the present.

“I don’t know, George,” Dylan said studying him. George was in his thirties, stood around six feet tall and had a head full of brown hair and blue eyes. He had a small bruise under his right eye from a hit he’d taken from Dylan two days ago.

“Head in the game, man, head in the game,” George said, lightly bumping him on his cheek.