Chapter 39

“Oh my God.Oh my God. I can’t believe I did that,” Molly whispers over and over against my neck as I carry her off the stage.

“Here, follow me,” a woman says.

She opens the door to the same room we’d been in earlier. “Take a few minutes to cool off.”

Few minutes. Fuck that. I need to get Molly out of here. I never, ever should have asked her to come with me. How could I let that woman get so close to Molly?

The door closes behind us and I twist the small lock on the knob.

“It’s okay. I got you.” I set her down on the long, green plaid couch. She throws her hands over her face and hangs her head, resting her elbows on her knees. “Take it easy.”

I reach for a side table and grab a handful of tissues. “Come here.” I brush my knuckles against her chin and tip her head up. “You’re going to ruin all your pretty makeup.” I fold one of the tissues into a square and dab it gently over her cheeks.

She sniffles and closes her eyes for a second. “Thank you.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry I lost it.”

“Baby, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she cries miserably. “I’m so stupid. I actually felt bad for her at first. Then, I was trying to take the high road.” She gestures wildly toward the door. “Now you look like you have a trashy girlfriend. I did exactly what they were hoping for. Behaved as bad as her.”

“First, I don’t care what anyone says or thinks,” I say calmly, looking in her eyes. “She came at you first. You defended yourself. Just like you’ve been taught. What’s my number one rule about fighting?”

“Don’t start a fight but if someone else does, finish it quickly?”

“Yup. And that’s all you did. Knocked her away from you.” Did she ever. “You didn’t do more than necessary. It’s not like you put the boots to her after she was on the ground.”

She sniffles again. “No.”

“That was the rule when I was locked up too. Remember that annoying cellmate Eraser told you about? Wiggles?”

Her nose wrinkles. “The one who jerked off in his bed every night?”

“That’s the one.” Even though I hate thinking about that time in my life, I’ve got Molly focused on something else and she’s starting to calm down. “When my mom came on visiting days, he used to talk shit about her.”

“Like what?”

I shake my head, not wanting to get that far off course. “Dumb stuff horny teenage boys say.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Your mom was pretty before…I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” I swipe the tissue over her damp cheeks again. “Anyway, he was younger, weaker, a weird kid. As much as it pissed me off, I’d never hit him just for trash talking.”

“He was dumb enough to take a swing at you?”

“Once.”

Her face breaks into a smile.

“They put hands on you, it’s game over.” I rub my palm over her leg. “I’m sorry. I should’ve protected you better.”

“I was already so upset.” Her leg bounces and she bites her lip.

“Why?” I lift one corner of my mouth. “Worried the whole world thinks your boyfriend’s a lousy fuck, now?”

“What? No. Pfft. That wasn’t even worth acknowledging.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Are you worried about it? I didn’t want to stoop to her level and recite my orgasm stats.”

I snort with laughter. “You handled it fine.” I rub my hand over her knee. “What else is bothering you?”

Her gaze darts to the door.

“It’s locked,” I assure her. “Talk to me, baby.”

She takes a deep breath and sits straighter. “I feel so fake. I hate the pretending and lying.”

“About what?”

“He brought up the car.” She inhales and rubs her hands over her pants. “They know they got to me. That I did lose faith. In you. In us. It feels unfair or wrong, disrespectful to you, to sit there and lie.”

I can’t have her think that. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me. That’s not true.”

“Griff! I took a bat to our car.”

She’s never going to forgive herself for that, is she? When I’ve forgiven her a thousand times over.

“You were hurting and you lashed out.” I crouch in front of her and take her hands in mine. “But I know you never lost faith in us. That part isn’t a lie at all.”

She blinks. “I wouldn’t even talk to you when you first came home. I thought I was dating Torch,” she whispers.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes widen like she’s worried I’ve completely lost it. “How can you say that?”

My mouth slides sideways. “I have a confession, Muffin.”

“What?”

“I rode out to see you when I first got home. I peeped the schedule Remy had taped to the fridge.” I tap the tip of her nose. “Since you had me blocked and your social media locked down tight, I was reduced to snooping.”

She rolls her eyes and waves her hand toward the door. “Thanks to that circus, I had to private all my socials.” Her forehead wrinkles. “But what do you mean you came to see me?”

“I waited in the cafe. Same place Remy tricked us into meeting. I never told him I’d already been there.”

“What?” she practically shouts. “How did I not know?”

“I didn’t want you to know. I tried to blend into the crowd.”

She cocks her head. “How?”

“Brought my laptop and set up camp at one of the tables with my muffin and coffee.”

One corner of her mouth quirks up. “You didn’t get any phone numbers?”

That dims the fun of my story a bit. “No. But I went in disguise.”

“Disguise?”

I brush my hand over the top of my head. “Ball cap.”

“Great disguise. Why didn’t I see you?” She rests her hand on my chest. “You’re hard to miss.”

“I kept my distance. I didn’t want to do anything to upset or distract you from your classes.” I stop and can’t help smiling as a clear picture of that day comes to mind. “But the second I saw you, my heart fucking stopped.”

A hint of a shy smile curves her lips. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” I curl my hand around hers and bring her wrist closer to brush my lips against her soft skin. “Then to complete my stalker destiny, I followed you a little bit.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“Nah, once I knew you still loved me,” I shrug as if leaving that day hadn’t felt like dropping my heart on the sidewalk, “I decided to wait for the right time.”

“What do you mean? How’d you know?”

“You looked so cute that day. You were wearing these sexy green sweatpants.”

“Sexy sweatpants, huh?”

“On you—definitely. But that’s not how I knew.”

“How?”

And here it is. The sliver of information that kept me from losing my mind when I saw her with Torch. “You were wearing one of the many hoodies you’ve stolen from me over the years.”

“I was?” She covers her mouth and lets out a soft giggle.

“Yup. And right there, I knew if you had lost faith in us, and didn’t love me anymore, you would’ve lit those hoodies on fire. Not taken one to college with you.”

“I took more than one,” she admits with a coy smile.

“Even better.”

She presses her palms to my cheeks and pulls me closer for a kiss. “I love you,” she whispers against my lips.

“I love you too. Always will.”

“In a way you’re right. I brought your stuff with me because I still liked having that connection to you.” She drops her gaze. “In my heart, I kept hoping you’d come home and tell me it was all a lie. Even though my head kept telling me how stupid that was.”

I lift her hand and brush my lips against her knuckles. “Your heart was right.”

She shakes with laughter and smacks her palm against her forehead. “That fortune teller Hayden dragged me to at the carnival even told me to listen to my heart.”

“Is that what happened in there?” I lift myself off the floor and settle onto the couch next to her. “You and Hayden looked shaken when you came out.”

“Oh my God!” She playfully slaps my shoulder. “I forgot you followed me around there too.”

“Can’t keep my eyes off you, Muffin.”

She launches herself forward, hugging me tight, then quickly pulls back. An excited gleam brightens her eyes. “Did you hear how the audience reacted to you? You were the clear winner in their eyes. They don’t seem to like Naptime or Kiki at all.”

“Can you blame them?” I study her face for any lingering signs of distress. “I’m really sorry it turned into a shit show. I don’t know why she went after you like that, Molly. I swear I barely talked to the woman while I was at the house.”

“You underestimate your market value.” She rubs her hand along my jaw. “And I bet Naptime is a snoozefest in and out of bed.”

I chuckle and tilt my head to kiss her palm.

“Wait.” She gasps and leans in closer. “The show’s paying me for being here,” she whispers. “What if they paid her to pick a fight with me?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past these demon clowns,” I say, considering the idea. “I didn’t interact with her enough for her to hold that kind of grudge.”

“Maybe any rejection makes her freak out.”

“Seems so.”

“Let’s get out there.” She squares her shoulders and tosses her hair back. “I’m ready.”

“I’m sorry I made you do this.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.” She slides to the edge of the couch and stands. “I’m glad they finally set the record straight about you.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t stand the idea of thinking for the rest of our lives that people see Molly as some kind of doormat who took my cheatin’ ass back. And I kinda love that the whole world now knows not to fuck with her.

I curl my hand around hers and open the door first. The makeup artist who helped Molly earlier is leaning against the wall across from us.

“You need a touch-up, hon?” she asks Molly.

“Oh. Do I?” Molly glances up at me.

She looks fine to me, but I want her to be comfortable. “Whatever you need.”

“Let me see.” The woman steps closer, pulls a puff-looking thing out and dabs at Molly’s face, then sweeps something under her eyes. She brushes a few strands of Molly’s hair into place and nods. “Good to go.” She leans in closer. “Good job out there. That little witch had it coming and you gave it to her.”

Molly blushes and glances away. “Thank you.”

“Thanks.” I nod at her and lead Molly down the long hallway.

Another woman meets us side stage out of view of the audience. “We moved Kiki to the opposite end of the stage,” she says.

“You better keep her the fuck away from us,” I warn.

“I don’t think you have to worry about it.” The woman cracks a smile. “She’ll think twice about coming at Molly now.” She pats Molly’s shoulder and gives her a quick nod of approval.

Molly shrugs and ducks her head as if it was nothing. Only I know how much the burst of violence bothers her. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her ear. “Obviously, they’re not going to stop fights from breaking out. I’ll be watching better this time,” I promise.

I’m still furious with myself for letting anyone get that close to her.

“Okay, go ahead,” the woman tells us.

I keep Molly on my left, shielding her from both the audience and everyone on stage.

The audience claps once they see me. But when Molly peeks around my body and they get a glimpse of her, they absolutely lose their shit. The lights fan out over the crowd, so we can actually see them. Women stand up, whistling and clapping. A few people chant her name. Molly lifts her hand in a quick, shy wave.

We return to our seats on the couch. This time, I keep a bit of space between us in case I need to launch myself into the air and pummel someone. Molly seems to understand my intention and flashes a quick smile at me. I reach over and slide my hand over hers, keeping that connection.

“Everyone have cooler heads now?” Matt asks.

I glare at him. “You tell me.”

He clears his throat and focuses on Molly. “That’s some right hook you’ve got, Molly. Is Stonewall responsible for teaching you that?”

“I have a big brother who’s always taught me not to take shit from anyone.”

“Fuck yeah!” Woolly shouts.

“That’s a fighter’s girl!” Pirate yells.

Laughter echoes through the studio.

Finally, Matt turns his attention to some of the other guys.

“Venom, you seemed to take on a mentor or big brother role to Griff and Woolly. How did it feel to have the student surpass the master?”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.

“I’m proud of my teammates.” Venom keeps his answers short. “They did good.”

Frustrated, Matt prowls around the stage, pestering the other guys with questions. I tune them out and focus on Molly. She seems calm now—her breathing’s normal, posture relaxed. But her eyes keep nervously darting around like she’s expecting another attack. Every now and then she flicks her gaze toward Matt and whoever he’s badgering. A faint smile or a short laugh ghosts her lips but otherwise I don’t even think she’s listening.

After Matt’s spoken to all of the contestants at least once, he stops in front of Naptime.

“All those weeks and you came out the victor. How did that feel?”

Naptime opens his mouth to answer—something obnoxious, probably—but the audience boos him into silence.

Shit, that’s embarrassing.

“Wow.” Matt wipes his hand across his forehead in a corny, fake-ass move. “Our audience has strong feelings about this subject.”

“Fuck all of ya!” Naptime jumps up and throws his hands in the air. “I’ll fuck all ya up right now. Come here.” He points to someone in the audience. Could be a dad in the second row hurling insults at Naptime or the grandmother waving her middle finger at him in the front row. It’s hard to tell which person he’s challenging.

A huge guy that looks like he was carved out of boulders lunges out of his seat and runs toward the stage, cursing at Naptime. Two equally large security guards jump into action, capturing him before he gets too close. Another security guard bear-hugs Naptime and drags him back to his chair next to Kiki.

“Everyone, calm down,” Matt says. “Phew, well, I guess that explains my next question.”

Matt focuses on me.

Shit.I don’t want to accuse Naptime of cheating. I know what he did was underhanded. The audience seems to know it. But saying it just makes me look bad.

“Well, Griff, as you know Mike ‘Magic’ Everson has issued a challenge for you to fight him in Vegas,” Matt says with that fake, game show announcer voice I’ve grown to despise.

Molly’s body goes rigid.

Fuck me.I’ve been so focused on this reunion, I didn’t mention the Vegas fight to her yet. It’s not even a sure thing.

“I’m aware of the challenge,” I say carefully.

“He said it’s because out of all these Supreme Fighters, you were the best. ‘An absolute savage in the cage,’ he said. You’re the only fighter he feels right now is worthy of fighting him.”

Weird way to insult everyone else.“Uh, I hadn’t heard all of that. And while I’m looking forward to punching a hole through Magic’s skull, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

The audience roars with laughter. Even Molly chuckles.

I point at Venom two seats away from me. “Amazing fighter. Venom would easily put Magic in a coma. Woolly could probably knock Magic out in round one. Bear Trap would submit him in ninety seconds or less. Hammer Fists would knock that guy into next year.” My gaze skips around. Can I say anything decent about the other guys? I don’t respect any of them much. “Magic would probably break his knuckles punching Bull.”

“Fuck yeah, he would!” Bull jumps up and thrusts his fists into a Y. “Fuck that dude. Stonewall can take him easily.”

At least he took what I said as a compliment.

Molly lets out a quick giggle and covers her mouth with her hand. Relief spirals through me.Maybe she won’t be mad I didn’t tell her about the fight sooner.

Everyone else starts talking at once, bragging on their skills and how they’re just as worthy of fighting Magic.

Nope. That fight’s taken.

Now that the news about the challenge is public, I want this fight more than I thought. Another chance to prove myself.

I hope Molly’s as easy to convince.

When all the chatter dies down, Matt walks closer to us. “You’re going to need a coach, a team, a trainer to get yourself to Magic’s level,” Matt says in a low, dramatic tone.

“I have a good team of people I trust at home.” To train with and fuck around in the cage, sure. To prepare me for a Vegas fight, maybe not but I’ll figure that out later.

“Stonewall, would it surprise you to know there’s a world class trainer who would love the opportunity to work with you?”

“Uh, I guess not.” My words come out as more of a question.

“Welcome back to our coach!” Matt shouts. “Daniel Underhill!”

“No shit,” I mutter.

Underhill walks out on stage and waves to the audience, then to me. “What’s up, bro?”

“How you been?” I stand and shake his hand.

Matt doesn’t let us talk long. He brings Underhill to a chair in the center of the stage.

“So, you’re willing to train Stonewall to go up against Mike ‘Magic’ Everson. You didn’t get enough of him at the house?”

Underhill laughs, a deep hearty sound. Wasn’t sure the guy even knew how to laugh. “Hell, yeah. He’s an exceptional student and fighter.”

“You certainly seemed to have strong opinions about the outcome of Naptime vs. Stonewall,” Matt says.

Footage is shown of Underhill attacking the ref after my fight with Naptime. Damn, their brawl was worse than I thought.

“Well, I did, Matthew,” Underhill says in his best I’ll fuck you up tone. “Frankly, Stonewall was robbed. He should’ve won that fight.”

“Fuck you!” Naptime shouts. “You’re a loser and your boy’s a loser.” He points at me and I wave back with my middle finger.

Molly sits up, like she’s ready to pounce on Naptime if he comes any closer. I rest my arm against her leg, subtly pushing her back into her seat.

Even though she must have a thousand questions and she’s probably not too happy with me right now, my girl’s first instinct is to jump to my defense.

I hope she finally realizes that none of this noise matters. Not the show. Not the car or what she did to it. Nothing.

We have always been unbreakable.