The Hurricane (43 page)

“But if you cancel the fight, will he reschedule?” I asked.

“Will he fuck,” Danny huffed.

“He wants a stepping stone, and they’re two a penny. If Con doesn't fight him, he’ll find someone who will.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’ll be other fights. I’m not leaving Em,” O’Connell said with indifference, as though the fight meant nothing to him. But I knew better.

“What do you think?” I asked Danny.

“The amount of training he’s already done for the Calvari fight counts for something. If he puts his nose to the grindstone for the next two weeks, it’ll be close, but I think he can go the distance. No fucking point, though, if he can’t get his head in the game.”

“I’ve told you I’m not fighting,” O’Connell said quietly. “My wife is laid up in the hospital after nearly dying. Quite frankly, I’m fucking stunned you think I would.”

Danny seemed guilty and resigned. I looked carefully at his face and realised how dejected he was. Frank had nearly killed me, but he’d also taken away O’Connell’s big shot at a title. I couldn’t live with that. I wouldn’t live with that.

“Guys,” I said quietly. “Could you give us a minute?”

O’Connell, sensing an argument, put his cards down with a sigh. To their credit, the boys filed out of the room without a single word of complaint.

“I’m not fighting,” he argued as soon as the door closed behind them.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to,” he retorted.

“That’s crap. Why?”

He crossed his arms and looked everywhere around the room except at me.

“O’Connell,” I warned, “why?”

With another sigh, he unfolded his arms and looked up at me.

“You know why, sunshine. I was so caught up in the fight and the sponsors last time that I left you unprotected, and you nearly died because of it. I’m not doing it again. I don’t need to fight. I can always go back to working in construction.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

“I don’t want to leave you, and honestly, I don’t think I could get back in the ring again without being reminded of what happened. Danny’s right. My head’s too fucked to go back.”

“Then we fix it,” I told him, running my hand through his hair. It had become my favourite way to comfort him. He turned his face into my hand.

“I’m afraid, sunshine,” he admitted.

“Of losing the fight?” I asked.

“Of losing you.”

“How much do I need to survive to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere?”

He looked me deep in the eyes, and I could see all of his pain and fear, but he needed to get over this. Even if he lost the fight—if he didn’t face his fears and get back into the ring then he’d have to live with that fear forever.

“I can’t do it, Em. It’s over.”

I rubbed my fingertips over his t-shirt covered chest, right where I knew his tattoo was.

“A champion is someone who gets up when they can’t.”

“You don’t fight fair, you know that, right?” He choked out his words, but I could see him wavering.

“I fight. That’s all that matters, and you need to do the same. If you need to picture Frank on every bag or at the end of every fist then that’s what you do. This guy is a has been. He’s had his shot in the spotlight, and now it’s your turn.”

“And if I lose?” he asked me.

“Then you go down fighting. But when you walk out of that ring, you do it with your head held high because you gave it everything.”

“I think they’d be better off calling you the bloody Hurricane,” he grumbled, but I knew I had him.

“You’ll fight?” I asked hopefully.

“I have conditions,” he warned.

“Okay,” I agreed warily.

“I’m not leaving you on your own until the fight is over, and I can look after you. The boys and I will take turns visiting, but you’ll never be alone.”

“You know that with Frank in prison, I’m in absolutely no danger right?”

“Hey, is it my head we’re fixing or yours?”

I rolled my eyes at the suggestion but relented. “Fine. Next condition?”

“I get to sleep here when I’m not training.”

“No deal. There’s no way you can train hard and sleep in a crappy chair. If you’re going to do this, then do it right. That means sleeping in a proper bed and getting some rest. You eat right and stick to Danny’s training programme or there’s no point in bothering.”

“Jesus, woman, you drive a hard bargain,” he scowled. “Fine, but the boys take it in turns to sleep in the chair.”

“That’s not fair. You can’t expect them to do that. Especially when I’m in no danger.”

“Non-fucking-negotiable,” he growled.

“Anything else?” I sulked.

“Yeah,” he said gently, leaning forward. “Win or lose, after this there’s no more fighting until you’re better. I get to spoil and take care of you and drive you mad, but the fighting stops until you’re healthy.”

“Deal,” I agreed easily, looking forward to it. Standing up, he kissed me lovingly then opened the door to let the boys in.

Kieran had looked at the both of us before he guessed. “You’re fighting, aren’t ‘cha?” Danny grinned broadly as he glanced at me knowingly.

“Seriously,” Tommy said. “Do you even own a set of balls, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you gave them to Em when you got hitched,” he joked, although he was seriously taking his life in his own hands baiting O’Connell while I was still laid up.

“Laugh it up fuck bag. You’re sleeping in the chair till I fight.”

“No way,” exclaimed Tommy.

“That chair is fucking uncomfortable, and no offense, Em, but I won’t sleep for shit.”

O’Connell stared at him hard until he relented.

“Fine. I might just lie down next to you Em if I get too uncomfy.”

“Not if you want to keep your fucking legs,” warned my husband.

“Finish your game” I admonished, smiling at Danny. “O’Connell’s having an early night.”

THE NEXT TWO WEEKS dragged monotonously. Every day meant more pills, more observations and more tests. I missed O’Connell terribly, even though he used Kieran’s phone to call me on Tommy’s number four or five times a day. I could hear the excitement in his voice, and I knew that training was going well. Despite all his initial protests, Tommy didn’t moan once about babysitting me and often split duties with Mac or my friends from university. But he was always the one asleep by my bed in the morning. Tommy’s whole family came to visit frequently, and although they didn’t have much money, they supplied a steady stream of baked goods to keep me and the boys going. Even Father Pat stopped by a few times. O’Connell broke tradition and spent the entire rest day before the fight with me, watching movies and listening to music. This time he didn’t need the day to prepare. His head had been in the game for two weeks. As he left me for the final time before the fight to head off to Father Pat’s, he sat down on my bed. Undoing the chain around his neck holding his cross and wedding ring, he refastened it around mine.

“You know I’ve got this right?” he told me, cockily.

“I know, baby.” I smiled, truly believing he did.

“I wish you were with me,” he admitted.

“I will be,” I replied. “Now put your big girl pants on and go get a title. The flat’s looking kind of bare, and we could use a big, gaudy looking belt to brighten up the place.”

“I love you, Mrs. O’Connell,” he told me.

“Love you, too, O’Connell,” I replied, and after kissing me the way that every woman should be kissed at least once in her life, he was out of the door.

NINE HOURS LATER, he walked back in again with an eye so black he could barely see out of it, a split lip, and a very serious face.

“Well?” I asked impatiently, frustrated that I’d been on tenterhooks for hours and that no one had been answering my calls.

Suddenly, his face lit up like the morning sun and the heart-stopping smile that I loved so much spread across his face.

“Winner by knockout in the seventh round and new IBF Heavyweight Champion,” he announced.

“That’s my boy,” I said leaning back against my pillow.

JAB, JAB, CROSS. JAB, JAB, CROSS.

“If Tommy doesn’t get his hands off my wife, I’m gonna fuck him up.”

Jab, jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross.

“He’s fucking with you, Con. Now concentrate. My Nan could hit harder than you are.”

Kieran took the piss as he held the heavy bag steady.

“Your Nan is hard as nails. Even Danny’s scared of her,” I joked, but threw an extra bit of weight behind the combination, which made him grunt.

“Besides, you owe him for taking care of your girl while you trained,” he reminded me. I looked over at Tommy and reminded myself why he was getting a free pass. There were only a few men in this world who I would trust my wife’s safety to, and all kidding aside, Tommy was one of them. Today was the first day I’d let her out of the apartment, and I was not entirely comfortable with her being anywhere but resting in bed. It’d been two months since that bastard took her and my life nearly ended. That was the truth of it because, without Em, there was nothing else. My hollow, meaningless, life had been filled by this woman. I didn’t deserve her, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do, no line I wouldn’t cross, to keep her safe.

There was a festering hate burning inside me for the bastard who took what was mine. Believe me, there was a day of reckoning coming when Frank was going to get what was coming to him. For now, I kept my rage contained. Em needed me to grow a pair of balls and deal with my shit, and I’d be whatever she needed me to be so she could heal from this. Of all of us, she seemed the least fucked up. Danny, me, Kieran, we all had guilt. If we’d done things differently, protected her better, she would never have been taken. That was on us, and we had to live with it. Em didn’t see it that way, though. She felt free, like she’d gotten a new lease on life because Frank was behind bars. She made me promise I wouldn’t do anything while he was in there. I never made any promises about when he gets out.

“Seriously, Con. Focus. Danny sees you punching like an old lady, he’s gonna think you’re out of shape.”

“Fuck you.” I grinned.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. I hadn’t put on the gloves since I’d won the IBF belt, but as usual, my wife had been kicking my arse. She announced this morning that she was coming to Danny’s and that I could join her, or leave my lazy, overprotective, arse at home. Turns out, she was more of a hardarse when it came to training than Danny. I wasn’t in fighting shape, but with my muscle memory and hard work, I soon would be. Besides, I was hungry for it. I’d had a taste of winning, and I wanted more. With everyone behind me, there was no reason I couldn’t have it, too. I never used to think like that, but Em changed me. She still thought that breakfast at Daisy’s was the first time we met. It was true, but I first saw her months before that.