Unbroken (Fighter Erotic Romance #4) (4 page)

SHANE.
She sat on the couch with a plate of cookies, peeled bananas and strawberries in her lap. I quietly sat across the living room in a chair and did my best to listen and understand what I had put her through. As she poked another strawberry into her already full mouth, she tried to speak.

“That’s fine Shane. I’m glad you found whatever you needed to find to accept everything. Me?” she pointed at her chest.

“I don’t have a choice. He’s inside of me, growing,” she paused and picked up a peeled banana.

“Don’t think for one little minute I’m happy. I’m not. I’ll never forget what you did. I’ll probably never forgive you either. I’ll hold onto it as long as I live. What you did was wrong. The fact that it happened when it happened?” she swallowed the strawberry and took a bite of the banana.

“Makes it worse,” she said as she began to chew.

“I understand,” I sighed.

“No you don’t. Don’t act like you do,” she shook her head and took another bite of the banana, finishing it completely.

“I love you, and I know you love me, but I won’t let this go. I’m not going to hold it over your head, but I won’t forget it either. After today, we’ll move on. You already promised, but I want you to know something. If you ever leave me again, I’ll divorce you. I will. And it won’t end there,” she paused and picked up a cookie.

“I already talked to him, and he said he’d do it. I’m gonna give Ripp a hammer and have him come find you. Do you hear me?” she said as she waved her cookie filled hand my direction.

I nodded my head, “Yes ma’am.”

“I will,” she assured me,

“I believe you,” I said.

“And he will,” she nodded.

“And I believe that too. He already told me,” I sighed.

“I was scared too, Shane. But running doesn’t fix anything. Heck, I’m still scared. I think about what might happen every day. But I can’t change it. You know, worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet is like building a dam for a river that doesn’t exist. It’s kind of dumb,” she shook her head for a short second and looked down at her cookie.

“Want a cookie?” she asked.

I shook my head and smiled.

“I can’t eat these, the thought is making me sick,” she said as she dropped the cookie onto the plate.

She stood and rubbed her stomach lightly and walked toward the kitchen with the plate of cookies. I watched as she reached up toward the basket of fruit and pulled another banana from the stack of fresh fruit inside. While she peeled it, she smiled.

“I love bananas now, it’s weird. I can’t eat enough of them. You wouldn’t know anything about that though. Because you weren’t here when I started liking them so much,” she said as she tossed the peel into the trash.

“Kace,” I said softly, attempting to apologize again.

“I know you are. Leave me alone, Shane. I’m enjoying this,” she said as she sat on the couch and took a bite of the banana.

“So,” she said as chewed what was in her mouth.

After she swallowed, she waved the remaining piece of banana toward me, “You going with me today?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure of what she had planned, “Sure.”

“Okay, we’re going shopping for baby stuff. More baby stuff. And we’re taking the Mini. And I’m driving. You know why?’ she asked as she stuffed the remaining banana into her mouth.

I waited for her to swallow, and I shrugged my shoulders. Without a doubt this would be some form of comeback for what I had done to her. Everything she had said so far was, and this shouldn’t be any different.

“Why?” I said, smiling.

“Because I don’t
need
you to drive me. I’m fine driving myself, unless it’s to the doctor. I don’t like going there alone. But anywhere else, I’m fine. So, we’re going shopping,
I’m
driving, and we’re spending
your
money,” she stood from the couch and rubbed her stomach.

“Oh my God, come here, he’s doing it,” she squealed, waving her arms frantically.

I jumped from the chair and stumbled across the room. As I got within arm’s reach of Kace, she quickly grasped my wrist and pressed my palm to the side of her stomach. As my hand flattened against her shirt, I felt a rise in her skin and against my hand. Shocked, I looked up into her eyes, and then down at her stomach. For a long second, the movement remained, and then slowly moved a few more inches and disappeared.

I stared into her eyes and smiled, my hand still resting against her stomach.

He wiggles like that a lot. They call it
kicking
. The baby’s kicking, Shane. But you wouldn’t know anything about that,” she pulled my hand from her stomach and tossed it to the side comically.

“You know why?”

Still amazed at what I had felt, I smiled and stared, not really caring what she said. Right now, she could say anything and it wouldn’t matter. My little boy – our little boy – was alive inside of her, and aching to be released. He was capable of moving, and doing it with such force that it stretched her skin into my palm.

As I stood and stared I realized that everything was going to be just fine. We had each other, and needed nothing more. Together, we could conquer whatever obstacles God placed before us. Each standing alone, we represented only half of the whole created when together.

A single shoe.

A one wheeled bicycle.

I opened my arms and waited.

As she fell against me and wrapped her arms around me, she pressed her head into my chest and sighed.

“I do Kace,” I breathed.

She raised her hand to my mouth and pressed her index finger against my lip, “Shhh. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

As I held her tightly I felt something against my stomach, and immediately assumed it was her hand. As the feeling continued, I looked down and realized both of her hands were behind me, holding me no differently than I was holding her. Once again, our little miracle was kicking. Slowly, I pulled my chest away from her, and pressed my stomach tighter to hers. As the wiggling inside of her continued, I stared down into her eyes and smiled without speaking a word.

Because there were no words to accurately describe it.

Quietly, she stared up into my eyes.

And we shared what we had developed together.

A living miracle.

SHANE.
Pregnant or not, Kace remained the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. As time passed, I felt more and more like a terrible husband for having left her the way I did. Now seven and a half months along in her pregnancy, she appeared to be cuter than ever. Watching her walk made me smile with pride, and seeing the changes in her personality as the pregnancy matured caused me to fall even further in love with her with any and everything she did or said. If she was half as good of a mother as she was a wife, this child would be blessed in yet one more way.

“That has to be the best spaghetti I have ever eaten, babe. What was different?” I asked as I pushed my plate aside.

“Same as always, Shane. I always make it the same, and you always love it,” she grinned.

“Well, mark it down as one of my favorites. No, mark it down as my
absolute
favorite,” I sighed as I leaned into the back of my chair.

“I did a long time ago, goof ball,” she said as she picked up the plates from the table.

“Let me get that for you, babe,” I said as I leaned forward.

“Sit down. I’ll get you a beer. Relax. I don’t need any help. I’m just fine. I’m pregnant, I’m not crippled,” she snapped.

As she waddled into the kitchen, I smiled. Seeing her this way was very rewarding to me. Although I was certain she had to be at least a little uncomfortable with day-to-day activities, she never made an issue of anything. She remained as stubborn as always, and as mentally and physically tough as the day I met her.

I watched as she began to clean the mess up from the kitchen counter. Feeling a little guilty, and wanting to touch her nonetheless, I stood from my chair and walked into the kitchen and stood beside her.

“I love the smell of Italian food,” I sighed as I savored the aroma from the fresh vegetables she used to prepare the sauce.

“I wish I didn’t feel so fat from eating. That basil Shane, basil does it to me every time,” she sighed.

“I remember,” I chuckled as I moved closer to her.

I reached toward her face, and traced the outline of her jaw with my index finger, “Maybe that’s one of the things I love about Italian food, the memories of that night and the smell of the basil.”

“Stop touching me like that,” she said softly as she shifted her body to the left, causing my finger to fall from her cheek.

“I haven’t even got a good start yet,” I murmured.

She turned and stepped toward the refrigerator, “Shane, stop. It’s bad enough…”

I reached for her shoulders and spun her around so she faced me.

“Drop that shit, Kace. Right now, drop it,” I breathed.

“Shane…”

I moved my hands from her shoulders to her swollen breasts. As I began to encompass her chest in my hands, she moaned. As she groaned, I squeezed a little more and began to kiss her neck.

“Shane,” she growled lightly, “stop…”

I didn’t.

I drug my teeth along her neck and kissed my way down until my mouth was along her clavicle. As I nibbled on the surface of the bone, she moaned and dropped the plastic containers she held. Without looking up form kissing her, I reached for the refrigerator door and swung it closed.

“Kace, it’s time…” I whispered into her ear.

“Oh my God,” she moaned.

I reached down and lifted her from the floor and held her cradled in my arms. Carefully, I carried her into the master bathroom, kissing her the entire way. I carefully lowered her to the tile surface above the Jacuzzi tub and turned the water on.

As the tub began to fill, I kissed her deeply as she sat beside the tub. 

In looking down at Kace now, I saw her in an entirely different light. She was always beautiful to me, but now she was a different type of beautiful. Covered in a gorgeous glow of proud wife and soon to be mother, she looked up and moaned lightly.

“Shane, I love you.”

“I love you, babe,” I responded as I bent down and kissed her lips.

Slowly, I began to undress her as she sat beside the filling tub.

“Shane, I feel fat. Don’t…”

“Babe, you’re beautiful. So much more beautiful now than ever,” I whispered as I continued to undress her.

As I lowered her into the tub, she looked up and smiled. Something about seeing her in this manner was very rewarding. Transformed from the beautiful girl I once met into the gorgeous woman who was before me, she appeared more the woman of my dreams than I had ever actually imagined. As if my passion changed as I admired her, she became the new object of my desire. Now pregnant with my child, she exuded everything I yearned for in a woman and a wife.

She was not the object of my dreams.

She became my dream.

Slowly, as Kace watched, I undressed. I stepped into the tub and nestled beside her, kissing her and raking my wet hands through her hair and along every inch of her body. As she closed her eyes and smiled, she began to moan as if filled with an eagerness to feel my touch. I continued to trace my fingers slowly along her face, over her breasts, across her stomach, and along her thighs. As my hands reached her feet, I rubbed the bottoms with my thumbs. Moaning in pleasure, she opened her eyes and smiled.

“Shane…”

“Shhh, relax, babe. Just relax,” I whispered.

Slowly, my hands worked up her legs and toward her chest. As my hands encompassed her breasts, she began to moan deeply. As my fingers found her nipples, I carefully moved over and slid on top of her. My lips against hers, I kissed her passionately as I reached down and guided myself into the warmth of her inner being.

And for the first time in as long as I could remember, Kace and I made sweet passionate love.

 

 

 

SHANE.
The six weeks I spent running provided no upkeep on my physical conditioning. Kelsey secured the spot for the championship fight again, and although I had been training for several weeks, I was now feeling the ache once again from my poor decision to stay away from the gym.

“Get those knees in the air, Dekkar. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to cancel this show. You’re a sloppy god damned mess,” Kelsey screamed as he slapped the edge of the ring.

“I’m on it boss,” I said between breaths.

“You’re not
on
anything. You were on vay-goddamned-cation for six weeks, and now you’re paying the price, aren’t you? Now, get ‘em in the damned air. My little sister jumps better than that,” he growled.

“Alright boss,” I huffed.

“Probably ought to call him and say we’re going to forfeit, this is going to be the mismatch of the century,” he complained as he turned away.

“No sir. Not a…”

“Mismatch,” I said as I sped up the pace of the rope.

“You get those knees in the air or I’m calling them,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“On it boss,” I hollered back.

Endurance is the most important part of boxing successfully. Contrary to what most people think, brawn, size, speed, and ability are important, but not as critical to a boxer’s success as endurance. If a boxer doesn’t have endurance, he’ll never last a round in the ring in a fight, let alone two successive rounds. For me, running and jumping rope build endurance more than anything else, and most boxers would likely agree. My legs and chest feeling as if they were on fire, I lifted my knees higher and crossed my arms every third jump.

If this doesn’t end quickly, I’m going to collapse.

I looked down at the surface of the ring. I was jumping in a puddle of my own sweat large enough to bathe in. As I maintained my now new pace, Kelsey slowly sauntered across the gym and toward the ring.

“Alright, slow it down and let’s get you on the speed bag for a bit. You’re going to spar tomorrow. Three in a row. Four rounders,” he slapped both hands on the surface and waited.

As I slowed the pace of my rope and lowered my knees, I turned toward him, “Three?’

“Yeah, three. You got a problem with it?” he asked.

“No boss, just…” I brought my arms to a slow stop and stepped to the side of the puddle.

He rolled his shoulders back, stuck out his chest and looked up with disgust in his eyes, “Just
what
? God damn it Shane. We’re going to
win
this fight. I know you can fight, and I know there ain’t a fucking thing I can do to make you a better fighter, as long as your head’s in it. Did you hear me?
If
your head’s in it. Now, I train you. You sure as fuck don’t train me, kid. So, I need to get your head in it. Now, I look at you and I ask myself things. I ask myself,
Kelsey, what are ya going to do with this damned kid to make sure his head’s in the fight?
Then, I answer myself because there ain’t another soul in this gym of mine I trust to give me an intelligent answer. So, I say to myself
Kelsey, I tell you what. My suggestion is to get him used to fighting again, because there’s something in that fucked up head of his that likes fighting, and only fighting makes him want to be in the fight
. And, I look at myself and say,
damn old man, that’s a great answer.

He slapped the edge of the ring and pointed at his chest, “So, the old man inside of me told the trainer who stands on the edge of the ring here what to do. And the trainer in me is doing just that. And you’re
the trained
. The boxer.
The trainee.
The man who doesn’t know jack shit. So, tomorrow, we’re fighting three in a row. Four rounds a piece. Back to god damned back. You know why?” he stood six feet or so from the edge of the ring and raised his hands in the air.

“Because you’re the trainer?” I asked.

“No!” he screamed as he waved his hands back and forth.

“Because I’m the trainer and I said so. That’s the important part. The part you never understand. You do what I say. And I say you’re fighting three back to back,” he shook his head and lowered his hands.

“If you say so, boss,” I smiled.

“Well, I just did say so,” he grunted.

“Now, if you’re done taking a break, let’s get on that speed bag.”

“Yes sir,” I responded.

“That’s more like it,” he said as he nodded his head and smiled.

As I lifted the ropes and stepped from the ring, he shook his head and turned away. As dramatic as Kelsey was in his daily activities, it was difficult to be certain if his disgust was something he actually felt, or if it was all part of his show. Either way, he often made me feel as if I wasn’t good enough to meet his expectations of me. The end result was good for us both. For Kelsey, I worked harder than I ever had, and probably ever would. As I dropped the rope beside me and started slowly on the speed bag, Kelsey approached.

“Now, beat on this thing for about thirty minutes. I’ll come get your tired ass when I think you’re done. And, as you’re beating on it, think of how you’re going to out think and out box that big Alabama cornfed fucker, alright?” Kelsey snapped.

“I’m on it, boss,” I responded as I sped up the pace of my hands slightly.

Tyson “Tick-Tock” Brock was a 237 pound savage born and raised in the state of Alabama by his father. His father, a former boxer, trained him in his early years. His grandfather, also a boxer, trained his father. His great grandfather the same. As the story goes, his great great grandfather was a boxer on the plantation where he was raised a slave.

Seven or eight years prior to his involvement with professional boxing, he began a YouTube channel of his own, featuring his street brawling in the back yards of people stupid enough to challenge him. Every single video which was added to the channel would eventually end up with a million views, and a few thousand comments. A professional trainer who viewed a few dozen of his street brawls approached him and offered to train him – the rest is history. Now the undisputed Heavyweight Champion of the World, he was certainly going to be my toughest opponent. His career, not unlike mine, was never down, never out, and undefeated.

As I got lost in the rhythm of the speed bag, I began to think of the videos I had seen of his fights. Slowly, I unfocused my vision on the bag and recalled the matches in the many alleys and yards he had fought in.

As I replayed the videos in my mind, I came to the realization there was no way on earth I going to win this fight. If it went the distance, I’d lose for certain. He was far too big, and far too strong. He’d win on points alone.

To win, I would have to beat him.

Unconscious.

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