Against the Ropes (11 page)

There was a knock at the door, and the people from the boxing commission came into the room to check Dylan’s wrapping and gloves.

“Sorry to hear about Max,” one of them said. Dylan had met the guy before but couldn’t remember his name to save his life.

“Thanks,” Dylan said.

“How’s he doing?”

“Look, maybe I can give you an update later?” He knew they meant well, but he needed to focus on the fight and try to push thoughts of Max out of the way.

“Of course. Let’s check your gloves.”

After they left, Dylan continued his warm up, and by the time he was called for the fight, he felt loose and as confident as he was going to get. He’d trained hard, watched video of his opponent and studied his style. He’d even gotten a couple of PT sessions in with Regan that hadn’t turned into hot sex. Not that he minded they hadn’t finished most of the sessions, but thanks to her, he put his shoulder at about ninety percent.

The only thing missing right now was Regan; she was at the hospital watching the fight with Max. She hadn’t wanted to do so—she had wanted to stay with him, but in the end, they’d decided it would be best for her to be with Max.

As he walked down the aisle leading to the ring, he let the emotion and energy of the cheering fans seep into him, driving him to win. These people had come to see him, and he would deliver. It was just another reason for him to beat the hell out of this opponent.

He crawled through the ropes and waved at the crowd, which only sent the decibel level higher. Dylan threw his opponent a glare, and then turned to his corner where George stood.

“Box the fuck out of him,” George murmured as he took Dylan’s robe. “Do it for Max.”

“Got it,” Dylan said, his energy soaring to levels he had never felt before.

~~~

The fight lasted six rounds. As Regan sat at Max’s bedside, they watched the fight together. According to Max, Dylan fought better than he ever had, and after the match, Max grinned with pride, tears in his eyes. “That’s my boy,” he said, as the referee declared him the winner.

Regan clasped his cold, bony hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Go see Dylan,” Max said closing his eyes. “Tell him I’m so proud of him.”

“How about you tell him yourself tomorrow?” Regan asked.

Max nodded. “I’ll do that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

One Year Later

“Do you understand me, Eric? I won’t have fighting in my gym!”

Dylan watched the twelve-year old boy sitting in his office who had been caught fighting with another boy in the gym.

“But he started it!”

“I know he did, Eric,” Dylan said, softening his voice and kneeling down in front of him. “And he’s banned from the gym. I want to make sure that you understand I won’t tolerate it. This is a place to learn and grow. You’ve got talent, boy. Use it for good, not stupid arguments. Got it?”

The boy nodded, his brown eyes glistening with tears.

Dylan nodded. “Okay, now get back out there. George is going to teach class today, but I’m keeping my eye on you. I want to see good form and one hundred ten percent effort, understand?”

Eric nodded and both stood up. Dylan offered a fist and Eric bumped. The door to the office opened, and George poked his head in. “Hey, Dylan. Mr. Thomas says he’s going to be running about ten minutes late today for his session. I checked the schedule for the private sessions and everything looks cool, so I told him fine. And Regan’s here.”

Dylan smiled. “Tell her to get her cute little ass in here,” he said.

George rolled his eyes. “Man, if I said that, you’d have my head on a stick.”

Dylan laughed, and George and Eric walked out, passing Regan as she came in carrying their daughter, Mackenzie, or Max for short.

“Hey, honey,” Dylan said, kissing Regan, and then gazed down at his daughter. “How’s daddy’s little sweetheart?”

He took the two-month-old from Regan’s arms and cradled her to his chest, his heart swelling with love.

The other Max had died the morning after the fight with Regan and Dylan both at his bedside. His last words to Dylan were, “I’m proud of you, Dylan. Don’t fuck this up,” and Dylan had promised him he wouldn’t.

Max had left everything to Dylan—the house, the car, and a substantial savings account. He’d also left strict instructions on his burial. He wanted his ashes spread out in Lake Shasta in California, and Regan and Dylan had made the trip shortly after his death.

Six weeks later, they found out Regan was pregnant, and Dylan had insisted on getting married. They were married by a Justice of the Peace and had a barbeque in their backyard with some of Dylan’s boxing friends to celebrate.

 The pregnancy had terrified Dylan at first, but as he watched the changes in Regan’s body and saw the ultrasounds, his excitement grew. When they found out they were having a daughter, he had to admit he was slightly disappointed, but then decided it didn’t matter.

“My little girl is going to know how to throw a punch,” he’d said to Regan one night as he kissed her belly.

Regan laughed. “I have no doubt that she will.”

Dylan nuzzled the soft skin of his daughter’s cheek and inhaled deeply, loving the sweet smell of baby powder and innocence.

“How’re things going today?” Regan asked, plopping down in the chair behind his desk.

They had opened the gym two months after Max’s passing. He’d decided that despite his win, it was time to hang up the gloves and move on to another phase of his life. He hadn’t felt he could go any further in his career without Max, and frankly, he hadn’t been sure he wanted to.

Business at the gym was good. Dylan gave lucrative private lessons to white-collared guys who wanted to get in shape, or had long-ago dreams of being boxers. He also held group classes for both kids and adults. Word of the gym quickly spread, and Dylan had needed to hire George to help with the workload. With business booming, he was able to open up an after-school camp for some of the less fortunate kids who were just like him growing up.

“It’s busy, but good. What about you?”

Regan had decided she would be a stay-at-home mom but was also taking some online classes to further her physical therapy degree.

“It’s good. I just wish your little darling would get her days and nights straightened out. I’m exhausted,” she said with a yawn.

George knocked and poked his head in again. “Mr. Thomas had to cancel. That was the last private lesson for the day.”

“Can you take the two classes tonight?”

George nodded. “Sure, man, no problem.”

“Good. I’m going to take off.”

“Okay. I’ll lock up and talk to you tomorrow.”

The door shut, and Dylan looked at Regan. She sat back in the chair, her eyes almost closed.

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you home. We’ll order in some Chinese, you can take a long soak in the tub, and I’ll get Max down.”

Regan nodded and stood. Dylan tucked her under his arm as they left the gym. With his baby in one arm and the woman he loved in the other, he marveled how things had changed for him. He had Regan, a successful business, and his child was the greatest gift he could ever have received.

He pulled Regan close and kissed the top of her head. “And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll give you a full body massage,” he whispered in her ear.

She looked up at him and squeezed his waist, giving him The Look. “That sounds wonderful,” she said with a glint in her eyes.

As Dylan walked to the car with his two girls, he glanced up at the sky, wondering if there was a heaven and if Max looked down on them every now and then. Dylan hoped he did, and knew Max would like what he saw.

THE END

About the Author

CARLY FALL

Carly Fall is a wife, a mother, and a slave to Nicky the dog.

She loves to laugh, and thinks chocolate and wine should be considered their own food group. She also wishes Christmas happened twice a year.

Three years ago, she decided to take a break from writing business material and dip her toe in the fiction pond and has loved watching her imagination come to life on the page. She is the author of contemporary and fantasy romance.

Find Carly at:

Website: 
www.CarlyFall.com

Also by Carly Fall:

Time or Money

©
2013 Carly Fall

Mason Jackson knows his marriage to Bridget is in trouble. He’s been putting in exhausting hours for months to try to make partner in his accounting firm. He knows that it is putting a strain on his marriage, but he has trouble escaping the memory of the poverty of his childhood. He never wants his wife, or the children they yearn for, to know the struggle that he endured when he can provide a better life for them. But things are reaching breaking point; he and Bridget are more like roommates than a married couple. He needs to think of a way to get their marriage back on track and what better way than to make Valentine's Day, Bridget's favorite holiday of the year, a new start for their marriage? Mason puts in place plans for an elaborate evening designed to surprise Bridget.

Bridget is miserable in her marriage, and often longs for the days when they were dirt poor. They may have struggled financially, but at least she had her husband around. Mason is always working, and Bridget feels that he has chosen his work over her. She’s tried to talk to him about the way she feels, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He just keeps telling her that once he makes partner then everything will be all right. But Bridget is sick of Mason forgetting the things that are important to her … like their anniversary a few months ago. She is at the end of her tether and decides that if he forgets Valentine’s Day, her favorite day of the year, then divorce just might be on the cards.

At the end of the day, this couple has only one decision to make: Time or Money?

Please enjoy this excerpt from
Time or Money
:

MASON JACKSON FINISHED with the last loop of his striped blue and black tie and shimmied the knot up to his throat. He ran his hands over his gray button-down shirt and tucked it into his black pants.

Mason studied his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were blue; the same ocean blue as in his tie, and his thick, black hair needed a trim. There were a few gray hairs at his temples. He reached for the tweezers to pluck them out. He wasn’t quite ready for the older, distinguished gentleman look yet.

His nose bent slightly off-center, the result of a break when he played high school football, and his just-shaved skin was tanned from weekends on the golf course. He stood at six foot two, and his wife had described him as “ruggedly good looking.” What that meant, he wasn’t sure, but as long as she was happy with it, so was he.

Not quite as muscular as he had been in his twenties, at thirty-five he was trim and looked pretty good; there wasn’t a sign of that gut that seemed to plague many of his male friends and colleagues who were the same age. Even with his grueling work schedule as a chartered accountant, he managed to find time to exercise a few times a week.

Checking his watch, he figured he would make it to the office by seven. He was trying to make partner at his financial firm, and had been told that the more hours he put in and the more money he made for the firm, the better his chances. So for the past six months, he had been getting to the office early each morning and staying late.

He turned and looked at his bed where his wife, Bridget, or Ms. B, as he sometimes called her, slept soundly, oblivious to his gaze. Wrapped up beneath the dark-brown comforter in the fetal position, and looking as if she were trying to avoid the approaching morning, she reminded him of Pigs in a Blanket, his favorite breakfast from his childhood.

She definitely wasn’t a morning person. The sunlight that was starting to peek through the blinds glistened off her short, blonde hair. It looked a little lighter than usual, but he hadn’t noticed until now. He wondered when she had gotten it colored and chastised himself for not seeing the change sooner.

As Mason stared at the shining tips, he smiled as he remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her, which was at an AC/DC concert of all places. She was seated two rows ahead of him and had caught his eye right away. During the concert he had paid little attention to the band, his focus being on her and her then long, blonde hair that swayed across the middle of her back as she danced. At some point during the concert she turned around and smiled at him. When their eyes met, he knew he was a goner. After the concert, he asked her out, and they had been inseparable from then on. A year later they were married, and she had given him the surprise of his life on their wedding day when she had all of her hair cut off into the sexy blonde spikes she wore now. He loved the short hair more than the long, blonde waves.