He lifts his head and drops it back against the wall and I watch a silent tear roll down his flushed cheek.
I reach for his tortured face and hold it in my wet hand. “You are the most important person in the world to me.” I put my hand on the slippery, wet material covering my stomach. “To us. Tonight we won, because we still get you. That’s all that matters. And we’ll take you any way we can get you. Without titles, without belts, without the fame or money that comes with it. Because none of that matters if we don’t have you.”
He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything.
I wrap my arm around his stomach and put my head on his shoulder, and we sit together in the dressing room shower until the water washes away the blood and sweat and tears of the night.
Chapter 17
Lucy
I wake to the Nevada sun shining through the windows that encase our suite. It glows pink over the dark outline of the mountains on the horizon under a clear blue morning sky. I sit up and stretch my hands over my head, nearly forgetting about last night, until I look over at Sam and see him lying in a small pool of blood, which has stained the pillowcase under his mouth. He’s snoring softly, so I don’t bother to wake him while I do an inspection of his injuries.
His eye isn’t as swollen, but it’s still purple, and blood bruises have appeared on his back that look like rug burns. His hands are red around his knuckles and the short stubble around his mouth is stained red with dried blood.
I get up and go downstairs to the living room and dial the concierge. “Good morning, I’d like to order room service…Um, just one of everything…Okay, thanks…Oh, and some coffee please. Regular and decaf…Okay, thank you.” I hang up the phone and head back upstairs when I hear the TV on in our room.
I mean, look, the guy is at the end of his career. If you don’t want to admit that…I’m not arguing with you. I’m just saying that last night shouldn’t define his entire career. Sam Cole is still one of the greatest boxers of our time…No one’s saying he isn’t. The guy has twenty-six wins and twelve knockouts. He’s had a longer run than any of the boxers he started out with. But now he’s going up against guys who are younger and quicker. He can’t keep up!…Well, Carey Valentine’s banking on that. He said recently that he’s ready to show the world who the new champion is…Carey might get the chance when he goes up against Brody Crawford next month. But I’ll tell you, Sam Cole won’t lose a match at the Garden. It’s where he got his first belt and, if rumors are true, it’s where he’ll get his last…So your money’s on Sam, whether Valentine takes the title from Crawford or not. Is that what you’re saying?…That’s what I’m saying…Can I get you to say it to the camera?…Hey, I’m a Sam Cole fan through and through. My money’s on Sam. He’ll beat Carey Valentine…You heard him, ladies and gentlemen. If you want to lose your hard-earned money, place your bets on Sam Cole in August when he goes toe to toe with Carey Valentine at the Garden.
Sam is sitting up in bed, holding the remote, staring at the TV.
“Hi.” I walk over to the bed and sit down next to him. “Why are you watching that?”
“I wanted to retire on my terms. Not theirs.”
“You are.” I scoot over to him.
“No.” He turns the TV off and puts the remote down. “I’m a fucking joke now.”
I look at his beautiful eyes through the bruises. “Sam, you are not a joke.” I push his hair off his forehead. “You lost. And that’s okay. Because it shows that you’re human, despite what some people think.” I smile softly. “You’re flesh and blood, like everyone else, and you can fall like everyone else. It’s how you get up that defines you.”
“I have to beat Carey Valentine,” he says resolutely, and my skin pricks with quiet fear.
I take the pillow from behind him, and start shimmying off the bloodstained pillowcase. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Sam.”
“Yes I do.” He gives me a disconcerted look and gets up, groaning quietly as he stands.
I grab a bottle of water and the ibuprofen off the nightstand and shake a couple into my hand. “Here.” I hand them to him. “Take these.”
He swallows the pills down and gets up to look at himself in the mirror. “Fuck,” he says, inspecting his face. The doorbell rings and Sam looks at me in the mirror.
“I thought you’d be hungry, so I ordered room service.” I head back downstairs to get the door.
By the time Sam comes down to join me, the dining room table is covered in steaming breakfast plates, from waffles to omelets and everything in between. He looks at the table and then looks at me. “Is the whole crew coming for breakfast?”
“No, I just didn’t know what you’d want and I didn’t want to wake you. That obviously didn’t pan out.”
He sits down at the table and reaches for an omelet.
“Want some pancakes?” I ask, holding the plate up.
He shakes his head and grumbles quietly, “Not in the mood.”
Okay.
I sit down across from him and pick up a piece of bacon, but I can barely swallow it by the time I’m done chewing. Sam is staring at his plate, silently eating his omelet without looking up.
“The baby was cheering for you last night,” I say, forcing a smile when he looks up at me. “She was kicking a lot.” I shrug. “I think she liked the music. Or maybe she hated it, I don’t know.” I laugh softly.
He puts his fork down on his clean plate. “Probably isn’t good for her,” he says impassively and stands up. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Okay.”
I finish my coffee alone with my thoughts, then I grab another piece of bacon and take my phone out onto the terrace that overlooks the mountains and the quiet strip below. I inhale the cool morning air and walk over to the edge of the glass balcony wall. I gaze out at the orange sun climbing over the mountains in the distance, ignoring the city below me, and listen to the occasional call of a bird.
My phone buzzes in my hand and before I even look at it, I know that it’s Sebastian, the only person who would call me this early.
“Hey,” I answer, holding my phone to my ear. “I was just going to call you.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Um…” I press my lips together and shake my head. “He’s not good. Last night was rough. And judging by this morning, I’m not sure today is going to be any easier.”
“Well, whatever you do, don’t let him turn on the TV.”
“Too late.”
“Is he watching right now?”
“No, he’s in the shower. Why, what are they saying?”
“That they think it’s time for Sam to retire. They said he should have beaten Brody Crawford hands down.”
I drop my face into my hand and groan softly. “Bas, if he couldn’t beat Crawford, how is he going to beat Carey Valentine?”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Sam says, surprising me, and a small part of me considers flinging myself over the glass.