“He’s still fucking with him,” Troy’s voice booms across the space between us. He’s just as in awe as everyone else in the row. Troy’s been to several of his fights and can see the growth himself.
When they break for round three, Laney chooses that moment to holler her support in her deep twang. “Knock his fuckin’ head off, Prescott!” We all turn toward her, laughing hysterically. Theo shakes his head, and she shrugs.
“What? I wanted to make sure he heard me.”
“The world heard you,” Theo says, eyeing his wife with love and amusement. And then the camera is on the five of us, panning in on Troy and Clarissa, and for a moment, I’m thankful Troy is here to take the focus off me. He’s been a hell of a support to Lance and me over the years. A solid friend. We couldn’t ask for better.
Tony hovers above Lance as Rip wipes his face and waters him up. And then the camera is panning in on me. Did they read his lips? Did they see our exchange? Was it Lance’s intent that the world know we’re getting married? A wedding will only intensify the scrutiny.
I stare at Lance in his corner who’s all too ready to go gloves up and something comes over me. The solution.
Who the fuck cares?
About them.
They who hurt us without knowing a second of our story.
Without knowing the struggles we’ve faced, that we’ll continue to face, together, fight for together.
And what we won is each other.
Fuck them.
Let their hate fester.
Let them watch.
Let them choke on that hate.
We won’t ever respond to it again.
It’s then I think of my dad, who’s sitting alone in his apartment watching my future unfold. I imagine right about now he’s regretting his mistakes where Lance is concerned. But Lance no longer harbors ill feelings toward him and reached out to get no response. He tried, and that’s all I can ask.
By the fifth round, we’re all on the edge of our seats, the momentum shifting again, and Otto is dominating. Lance avoids a jab, but Otto lands another uppercut I feel to my bones when Lance dizzies to the point he’s leaning on the ropes and he goes down on his knees. Heart sinking, I stand and begin screaming my support. I know I’m impossible to hear, but I will him to anyway. From where he kneels, I can feel his struggle, and within seconds, I’m at the side of the ring.
The referee starts his count as Otto celebrates, his arrogance rousing the crowd.
Tony curses in the corner as Trevor screams for his brother, and I do the same.
“This is yours, Prescott! Don’t let it in!”
As if he hears me, he’s on his feet within the count of six. After a brief exchange with the ref, his dance is back. With Lance still dazed, Otto lands a slew of punches until the bell rings.
When round six sounds, everyone in the arena is losing their minds. Lance and Otto are back and forth, delivering blow for blow until Otto gains the upper hand. I’m close to regretting my demand when Lance pushes Otto back with one glove to the forehead.
“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Troy exclaims just before Lance pounds his gloves together and unleashes the beast. No longer Tony’s fighter, but the man I met in the gym six years ago. The true fighter he is. The true fighter life made him.
Lance is giving it everything he is, he has, landing one solid punch after the other dodging Otto’s attempts. Otto looks very much like a punching bag jerking on the chain. And with each of his strikes, I see a flash of the past, of the first time I took a closer look at Lance in his element at our gym. Another right hook from Lance has Otto’s mouthpiece loose, and there’s only enough time for him to secure it back in before Lance delivers another. More memories flood me as my eyes water, and I picture him with his eyes closed while I circled him at Madison Square Garden.
“Through the ropes!” I scream, my eyes flooding as Lance picks Otto apart, punch by punch, not just fighting for the title, but winning against the odds that were stacked against him since the beginning.
“Through the ropes, baby!”
Lance lands another and another, dominating until he has Otto on the ropes.
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. “It’s you, Lance, you’re the next big upset! This is yours! This is your legacy! Fight, baby!” I scream through the thousands of other voices shouting their support. With the uproar from every punch, I realize Otto is no longer the favorite.
“It’s you, Lance! It’s you!” The minute the words leave my lips, Lance delivers a right, and Otto goes down.
Everyone in our row mimics the ref’s count. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Otto does a slow climb back to his feet and nods to the ref. Undeterred, Lance takes two long strides to get to him and delivers one last blow that I know everyone watching felt. Otto goes down and in the next second, Lance’s glove is raised.
All of the fights, the sacrifice, all of the hurt, the heartache, the need, the failures, the faith he lost, the faith he found, it all comes down to this moment. The moment he thought impossible until he saw it for himself and earned it.
Lance Prescott. The heavyweight champion of the world.
Seconds after Tony pummels him in celebration, Trevor meets me at the side of the ring, hoisting me up as Rip guides me through the ropes. I rush to Lance, who’s already fighting the growing crowd to get to me. He’s swollen and bloody, but I can read every emotion in his eyes.
“You did it!” I scream hysterically as he captures me and lifts me effortlessly into his arms. We hug for long seconds as I sputter out everything I’m thinking. “I’m so proud of you. We all are. He saw it, Lance. Your dad saw it. He saw it. Oh my God. You did it.”
“I know, baby, I know. I love you, I love you,” he murmurs again and again, ignoring the celebration around him.
“I always knew this was yours,” I say, sobbing into his chest.
He pulls away and grips my head with his gloves as his belt is set on his shoulder. “And that’s why I’m here. Because I believed you.”
Seven months later…
Lance
I stand in wait for my bride at the end of the aisle with Trevor, Troy, and Theo by my side. The church is only half full because we wanted the wedding intimate, but everyone who matters to us most is here. Three weeks after I won my belt, I moved to New York. From then on, it’s been a whirlwind. Endorsement offers came in, and my staff is losing their shit to keep up. On the other side of things, I keep busy training to defend my title while Harper dances at various shows of her choosing. She’s at the stage where her door is being knocked on now, not the other way around.
I’ve never been prouder of her than I was on her last opening night before she accepted the roses I brought to her feet. She’s a star, no longer able to mask her talent, she’s now sought after, thriving. Just like I knew she would be.
Mom leads Dad down the aisle, he shuffles his steps before they take their seats in the first pew. She’s already choking up, and I have to force myself to look away from her, so I don’t do the same. I’m not nervous, just ready. Ready to give this woman my last name, though our life together started years ago.
“You nervous, brother?” Trevor whispers from next to me, clad in his fitted tuxedo.