Page 62 of Sealed in Ink

“Yes,” I say passionately. “I don’t want anybody else.”

“I’d be alone again for the rest of my life,” Rust snaps, “without Mary. Nobody else interests me. Nobody else lights me up. She’s changed me, Brad.”

“I can see that,” Brad mutters. “I was wondering what was happening. I knewsomethingwas going on.”

“It was love. Itislove.” Rust leans over toward Brad, almost like he’s going to sink to his knees and beg. “We never would’ve seen this coming, would we, all those years ago? But this is where we are, and it’s not just about us.”

My hand smooths over my belly as his voice gets a serious, protective note.

“It’s about the baby,” Brad says warmly, and then the impossible happens. A smile spreads across his face slowly, like a lazy sunbeam washing away a cloud.

“The baby,” I whisper.

Brad blinks, tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Dammit, you two. This better be the real thing.” He stands.

“It is,” I say, my voice breaking, standing up, too.

Brad pulls me into a hug. A moment later, I feel Rust’s arms wrapped around me. Oh my God. Tears sting my eyes, happy tears: relief and guilt, all mixing together. The three of us hug like we’re all protecting the baby.

“Brad,” Rust says when the hug comes to a natural end. “Can I discuss something with you in private?”

A warm tingle courses through my belly. It’s not like I have toguesswhat he’s going to ask—for his blessing. It makes senseto ask Brad, not Dad, because Brad was always there, and somehow, he’llstillbe there. My baby will have their uncle!

“Sure,” Brad says, still smiling.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

RUST

I walk to the cage, bouncing lightly on my feet, tuning out the roar of the crowd and my walkout music.I know Brad and Mary will be near the front, cage-side. The days since that conversation—since my old man’s passing—have been a blur, a dream. There’s still some resentment in Brad, some feeling of betrayal. I will do everything I can to prove myself as his best friend, but mostly, he seemsexcitedabout the baby.

“You focus, yes, Rust?” Marquis roars in my ear over the deafening mayhem of the crowd.

I holler back, “He insulted my woman at the press conference. He threatened her. I’m taking his goddamn head off.”

“Fight smart.”

“His head is coming off.”

Nobody talks like that about my woman. Cain thinks he’s getting into my head, and he’s right, but it won’t end well for him. Speaking about my Mary with anything other than respect is a surefire way to get an ass whopping.

As the challenger, I’m forced to wait in the cage as Cain walks out to his country song, singing along. Soon, it’s time for the ref to call us to the center of the cage. Nothing else exists now, just this man, this target. He’s lucky the photos didn’t show my woman’s body.

“Last chance to apologize,” I tell Cain as the ref checks our gloves.

“For what?”

“Insulting my future wife.”

Cain laughs, flashing his USA flag mouthpiece. “She’ll be sorry she met your bum ass when you’re facedown on the canvas.”

“Okay, Cain. Okay.”

We go to opposite ends of the cage. Cain is standing almost in a wrestler’s stance, making his intentions clear. He thinks he’s going to grab me like last time, but last time, I didn’t have my woman. I didn’t have my child. There’s no better way to motivate a man, a warrior.

“Fight!”

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