Page 94 of Fighting Fate
“The fight goes on, but it looks bad for Rory, especially if there’s a controversial move or anything gets contested. Johnson’s team will use it to back up their case…”
Come on, Fight Club, don’t let him win.“Shake the fucker’s hand, babe.”
“He’s pissed,” she tells me as we wait. “That asshole knew exactly how to rattle him.”
“How’s that allowed?”
“The drama and build-up…it’s all part of the sport…”
I’m watching on tenterhooks, holding my breath, until Rory shakes out his hands and touches his fist to Johnson’s. It doesn’t last long, and I don’t miss the way he’s cursing as he turns to look around the arena before he gets into position. Contrary to his emotions, his stance is loose and easy. He’s got his prey in sight and is ready for the chase before he pounces.
It’s the longest moment of my life as I wait for the fight to start. It’s like being at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for the drop. The instant the referee moves out of the way, my stomach drops and drops and drops. First hit, second hit, kick, jab…jab, hit.
Hit after hit, I keep waiting for Rory to take Johnson out, but he keeps pushing him right to the brink and then pulling back to take a hit or two before he drags out another long spar that ends in the referee pulling them apart.
One round. Two rounds.
“Mom!” Orla screeches when Rory goes down, his legs wrapped around Johnson’s torso as they roll around the cage floor. “What the fuck is he doing?”
“He’s inflating the asshole’s ego before he crushes it in front of everyone.” Frank winks at me before wrapping his arm around Orla’s shoulders and pulling her into him. “Relax…you know he’s got this win.”
“That’s it, son!” Dad yells beside me.
I was so invested in the fight that I almost forgot he was here. Given how my insides are pounding and my heart is racing so fast that I can barely catch my breath, I ask, “You okay?”
“Okay? This is bloody spectacular!”
“Tell that to my nerves,” I laugh as he nudges me playfully with his shoulder.
“He’s got Johnson where he wants him. You wait and see, Chooch. He’s a clever boy.”
I keep watching through another round. It feels like it’s been hours since they started. Rory’s lip is completely busted. It doesn’t matter how much Vaseline they keep slathering on him, it doesn’t stop bleeding along with the cuts to his cheek and forehead. That’s what bothers me the most. The blood. Knowing that Rory’s going to get even more hurt the longer the fight goes on.
He’s had so many opportunities to end this, but he’s still going. My heart is on the brink of imploding when Rory and Johnson end up in another heap on the floor. Rory’s beneath him with his front wrapped around his back. One of his arms is curled around Johnson’s torso with his hand pushing on the side of his neck, stopping Johnson from being able to hit back with his right hand as he tries to slam the back of his head into Rory’s face.
I’m staring at the massive screen ahead playing the close-up of the fight as Rory’s other arm coils around Johnson’s left arm. Rory’s tugging and twisting and pushing and pulling at Johnson’s torso so viciously that it looks like it’s going to tear him apart.
The crowd is screaming. Rory’s bleeding. Johnson’s bleeding. The referee is circling them, round and round, inspecting the scene before he gets on his knees and starts yelling at them. It looks so awful, and yet, that anger that’s been clawing at my insides from Johnson’s walkout keeps roaring louder and louder as Rory clings on tighter.
Three taps.
One. Two. Three.
Johnson’s hand lies limp on the floor after the last. There’s a short second of silence where both men just lie there still. The instant Rory rolls Johnson off him, the crowd erupts into cheers and roars so loud that my entire body is quaking at the sound. I look at Dad, trying to understand what just happened, but he’s celebrating with Jake. The two of them are going mental, like the crowd around us.
I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling. It’s a mixture of relief, pride, jubilation, and worry while I keep watching Rory catch his breath while the referee and Johnson’s team check on him. It’s all I can do as the atmosphere ramps up when the referee announces Rory as the winner. I just keep watching him to make sure he’s okay because my heart is thumping so hard in my chest that I can’t catch my breath. And I won’t be able to until I can check for myself.
* * *
It’s beenhours since the fight ended. We’re heading to the hotel we’re staying at for the night. Rory’s entire team will be there, including the medics, in case he needs further care.
“You okay?” Rory asks as the Range navigates the quiet streets to the hotel.
It’s insane o’clock, and the adrenaline from the win is cooling as he rests his head on my shoulder. Meanwhile, his hand is rubbing slow circles over my belly.
“Me?” I chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m dandy.”
“Dandy…” he echoes quietly as I thread our fingers together and hold his hand over my bump.