Page 82 of Until You're Mine
Everything inside me twisted, organs moving in ways they never should. It felt like they’d been wrung out and shoved back inside in the wrong order. Why would he do that? Send one of his coaches away before one of his biggest fights? Most fighters had three in their corner, and Dad had the most experience of all of them. And Shane had insisted Dad come to my show instead…
He chose me.My heart swelled and swelled, until it could hardly fit in its cage. Tonight, even though he had his own huge event going on, Shane had put me and my art first in the best way he could.
“Don’t get me wrong, it pissed me off. If Liam wasn’t there…” Dad shook his head and I flinched, worried for the past version of Shane who’d stood up to my dad like that. “But he was right. I should’ve made the decision to come before he pushed me to it, and I’m glad I’m here now.”
More tears were coming, and this time Dad pulled me in for a hug. I couldn’t believe Shane had pushed him to leave a fight that big, and even more surprising, that it’d worked. Dad had…yeah, he’dactuallychanged, and while it might seem like a small change to someone else, it felt huge to me. It made me want to believe that maybe, just maybe anything was possible.
It also showed that Shane was thinking of me, and that he still cared, and obviously I cared about him right back. Hope rose, that foolish bitch I couldn’t fully rid myself of. Maybe he forgave me for leaving, and maybe we weren’t as totally doomed as I thought, even though I still had no idea how we could possibly make an already-complicated long-distance relationship work.
“That picture makes me think you’re in love with him,” Dad said.
I sniffed and nodded. “Probably because I am.”
He exhaled, his conflicted expression saying he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “He sounded real regretful about losing you. Even said I should learn from his mistakes. Pretty sure that means he loves you, too.”
My throat tightened to the painful point. “Even if he does, I’m not sure that means we can work things out.”
“Now I guess it’s time to talk about my mistakes, and how you should learn from them. Winning all those fights made me brash and way too arrogant, and I got caught up in the fame. I didn’t hold on to the things that were really important, like the people who truly knew me and loved me anyway. Like your mom. I’m a big enough person to admit I screwed up, but my stubborn pride kept me from saying so for too long. My life started to feel empty. That’s why I wanted you back home. I thought you being there would just somehow fix it…”
Dad gave my shoulder a light squeeze. “But I screwed that up, too, the way I always tend to do, and I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t exactly make it easy on you.” I’d been so sure he couldn’t change that I’d thrown up my shields and taken offense to everything he’d said. Hardly the fair shot my brother asked me to give him.
“No, you didn’t,” he said, a light, teasing note in the words. “That’s because you’re my child, and I think stubborn runs in the family.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I joked.
“You’re strong, Brooklyn. You’re a fighter through and through, make no mistake about that. If you want something, I have no doubt you’ll find a way to get it.”
His belief in me had me standing straighter and thinking about what I wanted—who I wanted—all over again.
“I promise I’ll never ask you to give up your art again, and I’m not saying that you need to come back home, but I sure do miss having you around, even with all the extra fireworks.” He punctuated his statement with a full smile, one that made his eyes crinkle.
Explosive seemed like a good way to describe our relationship, and I missed him, too, even if he made me feel like I was going to have an aneurism half the time.
“I meant what I said about you visiting more,” Dad said, “and I’ll visit, too. I want to have a better relationship with you, and I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking for one anyway.”
Love flooded my chest and helped smooth over old scars. “I’d like that. I think most everyone could use another chance at things they’ve messed up.” I sure could. More and more I was realizing how badly I’d messed up with Shane. I should’ve had more faith in him—he deserved that and then some. I leaned closer to my Dad and kept my voice low. “I need to go circulate, but could you find out if Shane’s fight has started yet, and how it’s going, and just…I’m going crazy wondering, and I’m not going to be able to focus very well until I know.”
Dad pulled out his phone, his eyes lighting up. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Fifty
Shane
The smack of wood signaled ten seconds to go, and I blinked at the blood pouring down into my eye.Damn,he got me with that elbow. I was on my back, and he was doing his damnedest to pass my guard.
Movement caught my attention, and I lifted my fists just in time for Conrad’s glove to hit mine instead of landing another head shot. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and jerked his head down onto my chest to prevent more blows. Just had to hold him for a few more seconds.
The bell rang out, ending the second round, and the ref broke us apart. My forehead throbbed, pain radiating from the still-bleeding cut on my eyebrow as I followed the sound of my coaches’ voices to my corner. Immediately Liam went to work on the gash, pushing the ice-cold eye-iron to relieve the swelling and following up with a cotton-swab soaked in epinephrine and a glob of Vaseline.
The first round I’d come out strong, swinging and landing several jabs and a big hook that might’ve ended in a win if the bell hadn’t rung and given him time to rest up.
Last round, he’d had a good takedown there at the end, one I should’ve seen coming since it was his go-to move. Then he’d thrown that elbow that split open my eyebrow. Not a great way to go into the third round, but I’d work it out.
Finn talked strategy as I sucked in what water I could and the doctor came over to check on my eye.
“It’s fine,” I said. Which I’d say even if it wasn’t. With the blood wiped away and my vision mostly clear again, I could make it through one more round. Not just make it through—I planned on winning this fight.
