Fight 3 (9 page)

Chapter 15

Gwynn

*Three months later*

“Seriously, Eddie!?” I can’t take the cocky attitude any more.

He’s been home for almost two months and I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere with him. There are days that I don’t talk to him at all because it’s so frustrating, but then there are days he seems like he wants to get to know me again. Most days, though, he just sits at his computer in his room and works.

His room.

He refuses to sleep in bed with me. Told me until he remembers it’d just be weird.

Yea, fucking weird sleeping in bed with your fiancé.

“Yes, Red,” he says as he rolls his eyes at me, hands on his hips.

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!”

“I DON’T KNOW WHY WE ARE YELLING NOW! AND WHY THE FUCK NOT? YOUR HAIR IS FUCKING RONALD MC DONALD RED! IF YOU DON’T FUCKING LIKE THE NAME, CHANGE THE CRAZY HAIR!” he screams back at me.

This is a typical day now in our house. We fight over stupid shit, I get frustrated and he gets pissed and blows up, then says something stupid like that. This isn’t the Eddie I love. This is a new man. I need my Eddie back, and I’m not going to stop fighting until I get him. I know he’s in there somewhere

“He’s got to be out there somewhere, GWYNN.” He sneers at me, putting emphasis on my name. I hate hearing it come out of his mouth, but I hate hearing him call me ‘Red’ even more. Because I know when he says it now it’s not a term of endearment.

“Your father is dead, Eddie. DEAD! Why can’t you just remember that!? Or at the very least, accept it and move on?!”

He’s been frantically searching for his father lately and won’t listen to me when I tell him that he’s dead. The only person he would believe is his sister, and she’s nowhere to be found, but I’m about to find her myself if this craziness goes on any longer.

“You say that, but I never saw a body. If I missed my chance to beat the shit out of him, I’m going to be pissed.”

I gawk at the man standing in front of me. In the months since we got home from the hospital he has definitely filled out again. When we came home from the hospital his muscle definition was almost gone from laying in a bed for four months. Now, though, now I see his bulging muscles under the tattoos that cover his skin and it makes me so fucking hot for him I can’t stand it.

“Fine. Go on, continue your game. I have to go to work.”

I storm out of the house, walking right past his new, pitch black Ford F250. Shaking my head at the fucking Ford sitting in the driveway, I head to my car and get in. I have a training session this afternoon at the gym, but I think after that it’s time to find Eddie’s sister. This needs to come to an end. I’ve tried everything I can to get him to remember, even going as far as sucking him off last week with one of the blow jobs he used to love from me. As fun as it was for him, the asshole doesn’t want to touch a pregnant chick apparently.

Thanks to BOB, I at least went to bed partially satisfied that night.

****

I call the station after my session and officer Dillon answers.

“What can I do for you, Gwynn?” he asks.

“I need the next of kin on Eddie’s father.”

“Sure, hang tight, I’ll just text it to ya in a minute,” he says as I hear him walk across the office and pull open the drawer. “You know, I’m surprised you didn’t ask for this sooner. Looks like he has a sister out there. He know that?”

“Yes... he most definitely knows it,” I answer dryly.

He sends me the information and I thank him, then quickly send Eddie a text before starting the car up.

GWYNN: Hey, gonna be gone for a few days. Be back by the weekend.

EDDIE: Don’t kill my kid.

God, he’s such an asshole.

GWYNN: AT LEAST YOU ARE FUCKING RECOGNIZING IT AS YOUR KID, ASSHOLE!

EDDIE: OH FUCK OFF.

Right. I feel the love.

Grabbing a few necessities from Molly’s house, I ignore the evil stare she is giving me for leaving town, pregnant and alone, but I don’t have a choice. I have to do this for him. For us. If we are ever going to make it, he needs to remember. Because right now, I’m certain he just hates me for ‘trapping’ him.

****

The plane wheels touch down in Florida and I’m jolted awake. The announcement from the Capitan tells us it’s seven pm here and a beautiful 77 degrees. Wonderful, perfect for my fat pregnant ass to sweat my lady-balls off.

Grabbing my bag from the overhead, I make my way off the plane and towards the doors to find a taxi. Hotel tonight, sleep tonight (right, psh) and tomorrow I find his sister.

“Hey, lady,” I hear the voice behind me and grab ahold of my stuff tighter. This asshole is about to mess with the wrong pregnant chick. I haven’t hit anything in a while, but his voice makes me think his face will be the perfect target. “Lady, here. Take this.” He says as he shoves a piece of paper at me.

He walks away so quickly I don’t even see his face. Turning the paper in my hands, I read the words on the front.

Underground Noise

MMA at its finest

89
th
& 3
rd

11 pm

Glancing at my phone, I realize I have a few hours to check into the hotel before the fight starts. God, I haven’t seen an underground fight since I beat the shit out of Tanya. Realizing I’m eight months pregnant, I try and talk myself out of going, but something keeps pulling me back. I just want to see it, once more. One more underground fight.

Underground leagues don’t play by the same rules the big league does, hence why I was almost killed by that bitch. The fights are terrible to fight in, but watching them can be thrilling as hell. Deciding to take the chance, I get to the hotel with enough time to check in, grab some food, and head to the address on the paper.

By the time I get to the fight, the crowd is insane. I almost leave, but I see one of the fighters walking in the crowd and freeze when my eyes land on the trainer walking behind her.

Mother. Fucking. Mac.

I grit my teeth, trying to stop myself from screaming for him. Sleazebag. Jesus. If I weren’t pregnant, I’d attack his greasy ass right fucking now.

Instead, I keep back so he can’t see me. I’m not sure he’d notice me even if he did see me. Of course the tattoos would probably give me away, but my hair has grown so fast with this pregnancy I’ve just let it go, coloring with the safe shit hair color to keep my red. Because I thought Eddie liked it, and I wanted him to have something familiar when he woke up. Great plan, Gwynn. It worked wonders.

Walking into the room, I get the thrill I used to get when I would see the crowd gathering for the fight. It’s almost eleven, meaning the fight’s about to start. Only one fight tonight from the sounds of it. Normally that’s how the underground events go anymore, so the police don’t have a chance to catch them.

I stand behind Mac’s part of the ring so he doesn’t see me, and I watch his girl. Jesus, he’s gotten worse as a trainer since me. Ever since I’ve started training in the big leagues I’ve met some amazing trainers and each of them scoffed at the training that Mac taught me.

Even as far as how to wrap your hands correctly. I was doing it all wrong, but I didn’t know any better. I trusted him. And now watching this girl, couldn’t be much bigger than me, bounce around, listening to him like he’s so fucking brilliant, my heart sinks for her. He’s going to end up getting this girl killed, and for what? Some money? Shit, she’s probably got the terrible contract that I did. The more I think about it, the worse I feel for this girl.

Then the fight starts.

Each round she fights hard and I can tell her form is good, but her tactics are all out of whack. God, he’s really not doing his job right if this is one of his top girls. I feel so bad for her. I stick around the entire fight just to make sure she’s okay. My heart sinks when she wins and he screams at her for not winning fast enough. God, I remember those days. And I don’t miss them.

I watch her go into the locker rooms to get her stuff, then sling her backpack over her shoulder and flip off Mac as she walks away. Deja fucking vu.

Trying to get through the crowd without drawing too much attention to the pregnant woman at the midnight fight, I find her a block down sitting on the curb.

Why does this girl make me want to scoop her up and take her home?

Because she reminds me of me, that’s why. She reminds me of me when I wish someone would have knocked some sense into me.

Walking up to her, she jumps when I start to talk, but after looking me over I see her relax.

Right, pregnant women are harmless. Ha!

“Hey, how ya doin?” I ask, trying to gauge her mood.

“I’m fine. Just waiting on my boyf-.” She pauses, glancing up at me. I smile while she decides if I’m really as harmless as I look. “My boyfriend.” She says, kicking at the rocks with her worn chucks.

“You doin okay, really? You took some hits in there.”

“Yea, sure. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m a fighter, hits happen. I walked out the winner, that’s all that matters right?” She shrugs and looks over at me. “Why do you look so familiar?”

Shit.

“Ah. I, uh.... I train. Big league MMA. Maybe that’s it?” I say, hoping she doesn’t remember me from YouTube.

“NO WAY! You’re that chick that ended that one chick’s career! What’s her name? T-T something.... Tanya! That’s it! My trainer showed me that video! Dude, that was amazing!” This is the most animated this girl has been since I’ve been here, so I can’t really lie to her.

I hate being known as that girl, I hate that that’s how I got my name. Not the fact that I was scouted to train big league, but that fact the tiny old me ended that bitches career.

“Ha, yep. You got me. Names Gwynn,” I say, holding my hand out to her.

“Oh, uh... Rose. Just Rose,” she says, taking my hand and giving it a firm, yet timid shake.

“Well, Just Rose, when is your boyfriend getting here?” I ask, looking around to the deserted street.

“I’m waiting till he’s off work. He works just across the street,” she answers, crawling back behind the wall she was mentally building.

“Okay. Weeelll....” I drawl out, waiting for... something... to happen. “I’ve got to go. When’s your next fight?”

“Tomorrow. Same place as tonight. It’s always here. Every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night,” she says in the dull voice from earlier. What the hell is wrong with this chick?

Shit, Mac. Running them fucking dry. She shouldn’t be fighting that much in one fucking week.

“I’ll be here. I like you, you have spunk. Remind me of myself. Before... well, before this....” I smile and look down at my belly, currently cooking my tiny Angel.

“Oh God, I didn’t even notice!”

“Right! The fuck you didn’t, I’m huge!” We laugh together for a moment and when it becomes silent again, I take that as my cue to leave.

Waking up the next morning, I don’t waste any time in finding Eddie’s sister. It was surprisingly easy, and makes me wonder just how hard he’s been trying all of these years. Agreeing to meet me at noon for lunch, I get ready and head out.

The meeting is awkward, to say the least, but I push on. I tell her everything. She needs to know our entire story, plus the things I remember of what Eddie told me about their past. The more she knows, the more willing she will be to come to see him. I hope so, at least. When I get to the part about the amnesia, she’s in tears, crying that she let her brother down.

Yes, Bitch, you most definitely did.

Agreeing to come out and see him in a few days, she leaves in a hurry of sniffles and tears. Jesus, this is going to suck. Maybe finding her wasn’t a good idea.

Trying to take my mind off of the impending fight that I KNOW will happen once he finds out what I did, I call up my boss to find a local MMA gym. I know I’m not able to workout, or fight, or do anything physical right now, but I still like to watch a good legal fight.

He spits out the name of one and I put it into my GPS, recognizing the gym as a fellow trainer’s gym, right across the street from the place from last night. Interesting. Smiling, excited to see one of my newer friends, I put the rental car in drive and follow the directions to the gym.

Walking in, I see the boys in the back going at it. Boys? Men. These were all men. Jesus, I wish Eddie would pay attention to me. I’m strung so tight I’m enjoying the gawking from the local gym men way too fucking much right now. I walk to the back and find the one person who can make me feel less slimy.

“Sarge!’ I yell when I see him.

He turns and smiles at me, then drops what he’s doing to come greet me.

“Holy shit, Gwynn! Look at you!” he beams, gently hugging me.

“Thanks, I’ve been working on my figure.” I punch him and he rubs his arm.

“Fuck, obviously doing something right.” He laughs as we catch up.

I met Sarge when I first started working in the big leagues. He was the trainer they shipped me to in Florida to watch and learn from. Apparently he’s one of the best there is out there, which is crazy because he hasn’t been training much longer than I have. Apparently being in the army helps in learning how to fight, and aids in the creation of a fantastic trainer. I believe it, too, seeing the digs he has here. Jesus, this gym is beautiful. And huge!