Page 137 of Falcon

Marco is a trending topic nationwide.

“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself before I even click the first link. “What did you do?”

I scroll through until I find a trusted account and click open the video, they tweeted out just ten minutes ago.

I can see two tables: one with a blue tablecloth and Falcon’s logo, the other with a green tablecloth and what I can only assume is Braxton’s logo.

Both men are sitting behind theirs with security in between them, taking questions from the press in front of them.

It’s your typical post weigh-in press conference.

Braxton is being a cocky fuck, answering questions about he’s guaranteeing a victory tomorrow and his voice makes me cringe.

That changes when Marco opens his mouth to speak next. His voice is silky smooth. It wraps around me like a warm blanket and tugs deep at the knot forming in my throat.

I’m crying just from seeing his face. Damn it.

“Actually, before we go any further, I do have a bit of an announcement,” Marco says, and the room explodes with questions and he raises his hands to quiet them down.

I stare down at my phone as the Uber merges onto the freeway, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“As you all know, I’ve been doing this a long time. Since I was a little kid, really. Too damn young for it, if we are honest. I’ve shared my story before and shared that I did it because I was tasked with raising my sister after our parents passed away. Fighting is what I did, it’s what I was good at, it’s all I was good at. Why would you ever stop doing what you’re good at?”

I slide my hand to my chest and rest it over my racing heart and hot tears begin to pool in my eyes, wishing I could crawl through this phone right now and wrap him in my arms.

“But sometimes, your body just knows when to call it quits. I met a woman recently who…” He looks down and scratches his chin with a grin that I can’t help but match. “…frankly knocked my world off of its axis. She has given me something new I want to fight for, and in order do to that, I have to lay certain fights to rest. With that being said, as of this moment, I am officially retired from Mixed Martial Arts.”

The sob I was trying so hard to hold in bursts free and I have to cover my mouth as the tears stream down my cheeks. My Uber driver even checks on me, but I reassure him that I’m okay.

I’m not looking at my phone anymore, hell, I couldn’t even see it if tried because my vision is so blurred with tears.

But I can hear it. It’s loud and insane much like the ending of Iron Man when Tony Stark gave his famous declaration.

I take a few deep breaths then wipe my eyes about the time the video cuts off. I swipe to rewind it a bit and see that as soon as he made his announcement, he left the stage, not taking any questions.

I exit the video and scroll through more tweets, seeing the same video but from different angles.

He is choosing me. He’s choosing his safety. He’s choosing himself in the way I needed him too.

“How far we from the hotel?” I ask my Uber driver.

I want nothing more in this moment than to go find him as fast as possible.

***

After the longest forty-five minute ride of my life, I walk through the lobby to see that most of the crowd has dispersed, save for the few lingerers trying to determine what they are doing with their day tomorrow since the main event is no longer happening.

I look around for him, for Joe, for anyone, but I don’t see a thing.

I take the elevator up to his floor and step off into the hallway. It’s eerily quiet. I can hear my heart beating through my chest when I stop outside of his door, cursing myself for not taking a key with me before I stormed the last time I was in there.

“Please be here. Please be here.” I knock on his door.

Nothing.

I knock again.

Nothing.

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