Page 14 of Love Punch

They both retreated to their corners for water and a towel-down. That close to the ring, I could see that Oleksandr was already sweating more than Bradley. When the ball rung to start the second round, the shouts began from the crowd.

Knock him out!

Take him down, Bradley!

My father had grabbed his champagne glass from the floor and was sipping from it again, which hadn’t bothered me until he began to shout as well. “Knock the cunt out, Olek!”

I felt cold fury rising through my body. I was used to him taking advantage of my generosity, but I’d be damned if I’d let him do the same to Bradley. He was currently abusing the kindness of the man that allowed him a VIP seat to the fight of the year.

“Grow up,” I seethed, snatching the glass from his hand and placing it out of reach. I was trying to keep an eye on the fight, where Bradley was more than holding his own. Oleksandr was stumbling and I wondered if he’d even make the next round. A second-round knockout for Bradley would be a legendary matchto retire on, but a little part of me wondered if he was drawing it out on purpose, to give the crowd time to enjoy the fight aa much as he was. A well-placed hit to Oleksandr’s temple sent him reeling and left him with a split eyebrow, blood and sweat making Oleksandr squint as the bell ended round two.

I took advantage of the minute-long break to address my father, mindful that Mrs Tyler could hear me—as well as everything he’d already said. I didn’t even want to see the look on her face.

“Dad, I want you to remember where we are and why you’re here. Show a bit of respect, or I’ll have you removed.”

“Gimme my drink,” my father slurred. He reached over me, grasping blindly for the glass. The crowd roared again as the third round burst to life.

“Get off me!” I manoeuvred my father so he was sat properly in his seat again, but another lunge for the drink knocked me into Melody.

“So sorry,” I mumbled, beckoning a security guard over. I could deal with how much my father had humiliated me from the day I was old enough to understand, but I could not deal with him embarrassing me at work—not in front of Bradley.

The guard’s presence was enough to make my father think twice about his next actions and he sat back against the seat. But it was too late. “Remove him please, and ensure his name is taken off any lists that might allow him back into the building.”

“I’ll behave!” he protested. But security wasn’t exactly known for accepting excuses. The guard had managed to drag him halfway up the aisle when two things happened at once. The crowd went silent, like someone had muted the sound. And my father cheered.“Get him, Bartosh!”

I spun back to the ring. Bradley was doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Oleksandr Bartosh hit him right under the chin with an uppercut that echoed around the arena. Bradley’s headsnapped backwards, and it was the first part of him to hit the canvas. For what felt like an eternity, the whole stadium was so silent you could hear a pin drop. But then the shouts started.

Cheating Russian twat!

That was an illegal hit!

Penalise him, ref!

Voices rang through the arena. But they quietened down again as we all seemed to come to the same realisation at the same time.

Bradley wasn’t getting up.

Chapter 7

Bradley

Beep. Beep. Beep.

How much had I had to drink?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My head felt like it had been put through a spin cycle. My eyes hurt to open and when they finally did, I couldn’t focus. The lights were bright, too bright, and there were shadowy figures moving at the edge of my vision.

“I think he’s waking up,” said a familiar voice, the one that would always bring me back to reality.

“Arthur?” I murmured, reaching out for him. There were sheets over my chest, but they didn’t feel as soft as my own. A sharp pain shot through my hand as I tried to move, but I still reached I needed—

“Hey. Come back to us, Bradley.” Then his warm hand was holding mine.

I liked it when he full named me. It reminded me of home. At the gym, I was usually “Brad” or “The Unbeatable.” But to Arthur and my family, I was just Bradley.

“Bradley, dear, are you with us?” I turned in the direction of my mother’s voice. I was still struggling to focus, but as she leaned into my periphery, it was definitely my mother.

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