Against the Ropes (8 page)

Dylan cringed and then nodded. “Is it because of the guy you were at the fights with?”

Regan smiled, but felt sadness well up. “No. Brett was my friend. It’s because of what happened between us, Dylan, because of what you did.”

He nodded, and looked back down at their intertwined hands. “Regan, when we were together before, I was a young, dumb, cocky, arrogant asshole on the verge of becoming something big. I only thought of myself, what my next move was going to be. I didn’t think of other’s feelings, and when I slept with the first girl—”

“The first being the one I walked in on you?”

“Yes.”

“See, I don’t even know if I believe that,” Regan said. Her heart twisted saying the words, but it seemed as though it was time to dump the truth on the feelings that they both had.

He met her gaze, his dark eyes glinting in the light. “I swear to you on my mother’s grave that it’s the truth, Regan. I swear.”

Words. Just words.

“I don’t know what I can do to make you believe me.”

Regan shrugged. “That’s the problem with trust, Dylan. It’s something that has to be earned. I don’t know what you can say to make me trust you.”

Dylan remained quiet.

“You hurt me, Dylan. It would have hurt less if you took my heart out of my chest and stomped on it. I won’t allow myself to be put in a situation where you can do that to me again.”

“I love you, Regan,” he said quietly. “I think I fell in love with you within the first ten minutes of being your patient. I never stopped loving you, and when you were in my life, I was unstoppable. I was stupid, but you kept me grounded and focused. Without you, I couldn’t get moving and I . . . I was just in an ugly place. I tried to mask the pain I was feeling and forget about you with alcohol. I was a wreck, and please don’t think I’m saying any of the things that happened are your fault. They were mine. I set the events in motion that one stupid night, and I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Tears slid down Regan’s face, and she quickly swiped at them.

“But please believe me, that’s the past. I’m different now, Regan. I’ve . . . I guess you could say I’ve grown up, and I want you in my future.”

They were silent for a moment as Regan cried, and Dylan looked at her as though he were begging her for forgiveness.

“Dylan, I don’t think I can do that. Maybe it would be best if I just left and—”

“No.”

“Dylan—”

“No. Please don’t, Regan. I’m begging you. I’m outright begging you. Please. Don’t leave. Let me show you how I’ve changed. Let me show you that we belong together.”

What could she say to that? Deep down she knew that she wanted to be with Dylan, and she had never stopped wanting that. However, she just didn’t trust him with her feelings.

But, people change. Maybe what he said was the truth. She had only spent two weeks with him, but she had noticed little things that were different. He didn’t carry the swagger of his younger days, and he seemed quieter, more reflective.

“When we were together before, everyone wanted to give me everything. Promoters wanted me. People wanted me to fight. Women threw themselves at me. I took what was being handed out, not realizing that I was destroying the one thing in my life that was my everything. You.”

Regan brushed away the tears again.

“Now, I’m just a guy who’s trying to get his life back on track. No one is giving me anything, which is fine. Like trust with you, I have to earn my way.”

“Dylan, I don’t know what to say,” and she truly didn’t. What she did realize was that she had been waiting to hear these words for a very long time.

Dylan sighed. “For right now, just say you’ll stay. Just say you’ll give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

Regan studied him. He seemed so sincere and honest, she found herself nodding before she knew what she was doing.

“Thank you,” he whispered, leaned over and kissed her.

It was a gentle, quick kiss. He pushed her hair behind her ear, and then traced one finger down her cheek to her neck. “I hate it when you cry,” he said, brushing a tear away. “It rips me up inside.”

“I don’t particularly like it either,” she said, smiling.

He brought his lips to hers. Again, the kiss was soft and sweet.

“I really want to take you back to the house and get you naked,” he whispered against her lips, and then leaned back against the wall again. “But I won’t. I’m going to show you that I love you, that I respect you, and that you are so much more to me than just a lay.”

She never thought that, but she did have reservations about sleeping with him because she didn’t think she could keep her feelings and emotions out of it.

“Dylan—”

“Shhhh,” he said, putting his finger on her lips. “Please. Let me show you how I’ve changed.”

Maybe he had. Maybe he truly was this new person he claimed to be. Warily, she allowed herself to think about possibly accepting that as fact.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get home.”

She nodded and they crawled out of the tower, down the play structure steps, and walked the street back to the house, hand in hand.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Two days later, Regan paced the living room of the empty house. Max had taken Dylan down to the gym to spar. They’d asked Regan to join them, but she had decided to stay home. Now she wished she’d gone. The house was too quiet and too empty without them. She needed the distraction so that she didn’t get caught up in her inner war over Dylan. Did she trust him or not?

It always came back to the same answer: she simply just didn’t know.

Sighing, she grabbed her purse and headed out to the car. Her initial intent had been to head to the mall, but she ended up in front of the gym. The parking lot was full, and she had to find a space down the street.

She slipped in and was surprised to see that most of the people there weren’t working out, but watching Dylan spar. It was wall-to-wall people, and they were cheering him on as if it was a real fight.

She moved around the edge of the crowd until she found a spot where she could watch him.

He danced around the ring with grace, his large body rippling with every punch. She was happy to see that he had on protective headgear. Max must have made him wear it because she knew that he couldn’t stand it.

The bell rang and Dylan and his sparring partner each went to their own corners and sat down on their respective stools. Max stood in front of Dylan and poured water in his mouth while talking to him.

Regan looked over the crowd and noted that there were a lot of women who were far too dressed up to be at a gym, and Regan realized they were most likely there to get at either Dylan or his sparring partner.

The boxers went another round and then called it an afternoon. The crowd surged toward the ring, all wanting to shake Dylan’s hand or give him a pat on the back.

After Max removed Dylan’s gloves, Dylan grabbed a towel and wiped his face, then slung it around his neck. He gave his sparring partner a wave and a smile and climbed out of the ring. Blotting the sweat from his head, he shook hands with his fans. He was reserved, yet polite. Regan could see that the words of praise being said to him weren’t affecting his ego, and it was almost as if he wasn’t hearing them. He looked like he was simply going through the motions of greeting his fans, but not enjoying it as he used to. He smiled, said thanks and moved on to the next person.

A woman approached him and took his hand. She was tall and thin with a curtain of black hair down to her lower back. She wore a red skirt with a white tank top and looked like a high-class hooker as far as Regan was concerned. Regan couldn’t hear what she said, but the woman held on to Dylan’s hand and ran her other hand up his forearm.

Regan flinched at their contact. Her chest tightened, memories of the betrayal flooded her senses—the sight of him naked in front of her, the scent of sex in the air, the pain that tore through her as she watched her world unravel. She wanted to run so she didn’t have to watch the interaction before her now, yet she couldn’t take her eyes from them.

Dylan smiled, shook his head and disentangled himself from the woman. He said something, and put his hand on her shoulder, and turned to greet someone else.

The woman wasn’t going to be cast aside so easily. She stepped up to Dylan again and laid her hand on his forearm, smiling. Dylan once again removed her hand from his arm, and his grin faded into a harsh look. He said something to the woman causing her face to fall. Dylan shook a few more hands and then made his way through the crowd to the locker room, not glancing back.

Regan was surprised. She remembered the Dylan of long ago who would have stayed around and basked in the glory of his fans, and would probably have even flirted with the woman a little bit.

Regan pushed through the crowd to the door. For some reason she didn’t want Dylan to know she had come. As the warm sun hit her face, she slipped on her sunglasses and walked quickly to her car.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next week, Dylan trained hard. He remained focused and felt he was in a really good place mentally. Being around Regan did that for him.

Physically, he put his shoulder at about eighty percent. It was feeling much better, but not quite top form.

He lay on the PT table with his eyes closed while Regan dug into his shoulder. She moved it up above his head and then to the side while massaging the inflamed tendon. It didn’t hurt half as bad as it did two weeks ago.

As much as it killed him, he’d kept his hands to himself as far as Regan was concerned. He wanted to show her that she was more than a body to him, that he wanted more from her than just a lay. In fact, he had been tossing around the idea of marriage. He knew she was a few steps behind him on that one. Hell, she didn’t even know if she could trust him, let alone marry him. However, he felt that with both Regan and Max by his side, he was invincible. Max was an excellent trainer and father figure; Regan brought out the best in him, both personally and in his athletic performance. She made him want to win in every aspect of his life.

“You aren’t squirming around like a little girl, so this must not be too bad for you,” she said.

He gazed up at her, happy he no longer had the wooden table poking at him. Max had bought the used physical therapy table making the sessions with Regan much more comfortable. She stared down at him, her brown eyes warm. Her blonde hair fell around her face and she smiled at him.

“It feels better,” he said. “And I have you to thank for that.”

She said nothing, just brought his arm across his chest. And . . . that was the movement that hurt the worst. He heard a slight pop and closed his eyes.

Regan laid the arm by his side. “I heard the pop,” she said. “Not good.”

Dylan sat up.

“So what’s next?” he asked.

“I’ll get some ice,” she said. “Then rest for a bit. I think Max is taking you out to spar down at one of the gyms today.”

Dylan nodded and watched her as she went into the house. Today she wore a brown skirt and blue shirt. He loved the way the skirt swished around her thighs when she walked, making it look as though her hips were swaying more than they really were.

Max had mentioned last night that he’d set up a sparring session for him. It wouldn’t be a hardcore match, just someone to get into the ring and work on his technique with. Max would be there the whole time, barking orders at him.

Regan returned and handed him the icepack. Thanks to her, the bag of peas was long gone. He moved over on the table, and she sat down beside him. They stared out into the yard, a companionable silence between them as they listened to the sounds of suburbia. There was a lawnmower going somewhere in the neighborhood, and kids were playing in the backyard a few doors down. A faint smell of barbeque permeated the air.

After a moment, he said, “We’re going to have fresh oranges in a week or so. It looks like they’re almost ripe.”

Regan nodded. She reached over and laced her hand with his, and Dylan’s heartbeat kicked up a couple of notches.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night,” she said.

Dylan studied her profile as she stared out into the yard. The finches were chirping, and the scent of orange blossoms was strong. It was a gorgeous spring day.

Spring. A time of renewal and rebirth. A time to shed the old skin and grow into the new. Could it be possible that his relationship with Regan would move into a rebirthing phase?

Or maybe it was already there. Maybe it had just moved at such a slow pace he hadn’t noticed it.

Or maybe she was going to say that this was the death of their relationship, which he hoped like hell wasn’t the case.

“And?” he prompted her.

Regan turned to him and studied his face. It was as if she were memorizing it as she looked him over carefully.

She didn’t say anything for a beat, and Dylan’s gut clenched. Silence was not his friend when it came to finding out his path with Regan.

Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she turned her gaze out to the yard again.

“Regan—”

Her lips came down on his, her hand threaded through his hair, pulling him close. The familiar smell of her cucumber-melon shampoo engulfed him as her hair tickled his cheek. Her lips moved slowly, yet passionately over his, sending fire licking through his body, and her fingers gently caressed his neck, sending jolts of energy down his spine. He reached around her waist and pulled her closer, turning his body so they were chest-to-chest, and he felt the hard peaks of her nipples press into him. After a moment, she pulled away. “Please don’t break my heart again, Dylan,” she whispered. “Please.”

Dylan’s heart soared, and he stood up. He remembered that Max had a doctor’s appointment in downtown Phoenix and wouldn’t be home for another hour or so. He was going to take advantage of his time alone with Regan.

He picked her up, carried her into the house and to his bedroom. He laid her out on his bed, her blonde hair fanning out against the black comforter.