Fighting Love: the complete series Page 4

  “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “No thinking tonight. Tonight, we celebrate. You drink, and I’ll drive. You’ve earned a night of letting loose.”

  I glance down at my phone at Bella’s text. There are so many ways I could respond to her text. I could reply with a simple thank you, leaving no room to continue the conversation, or I could tack on a ‘How are you?’ which would mean she would reply.

  Knowing it’s best not to lead her on, I go with a simple thank you, then shove my phone into my front pocket wishing things could be different but knowing they can’t be.

  It’s three in the morning. Even though I’ve been drinking, I’m not trashed. I’ve spent most of the night talking with my family and friends, especially those I don’t get to see often. My parents and their friends have just left, and I promised Kayla I would be by in the morning to have brunch with them so I can visit with my sister before I head back to California. I can’t believe my baby sister is thirteen years old.

  “You ready to head out?” I ask Logan. He’s been sweet talking some female all night and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m taking a taxi back so he can head out with her.

  “Yeah, I’m ready.” He stands from the booth and wobbles a little bit. I haven’t seen him touch an ounce of alcohol all night, but…

  “You good to drive?” I ask. “We can take a taxi back.”

  “No, I’m good. You know they’ll tow my car if we leave it here overnight.”

  “All right.”

  We say bye to anybody still here then head to the valet stand to have them bring Logan’s car around. Usually I stay with my parents when I come to visit, but with Logan and a couple of the other guys from our gym staying at the MGM Grand where the fight was held, I decided to room with them instead.

  The valet opens our doors for us and I throw them a tip. Then Logan takes off back to the hotel. My phone dings with a text, and when I look to see who it is, I find myself disappointed it’s not Bella.

  Janell: Nice win tonight. See you when you get back

  Attached to her text is a photo of her lying in bed, naked.

  Me: Thanks

  I don’t bother commenting on the photo. She sends them all the time. She already knows she’s fucking hot, and she knows when I get back I’ll be fucking her. She also knows that’s all we’ll be doing. Before I put my phone away, another text comes in.

  Bella: I miss you

  Well, fuck me. I didn’t see that coming. I stare at my phone trying to figure out how to respond. It’s three in the morning. I’m surprised she’s still awake.

  Me: Me too

  I hover over the send button. Fuck! That sounds douchey. I hit backspace and type out I miss you too. Just as I’m about to hit send, the car jerks to the side. My head shoots up to see what’s going on and suddenly the car is flipping in the air. I hear glass shattering as the car flips several times, then my head hits the side—or maybe the ceiling—I’m not sure. And everything goes black.

  Chapter Six

  Bella

  Three Months Ago

  “Marco is finally healed enough to come home and will be arriving this morning. Are you seriously not going to visit him?” Tristan gives me a look that tells me he thinks I’m being a bitch, but I don’t give in.

  “Marco and I haven’t spoken in over two years. I’m not just showing up at his condo.”

  The truth is I’ve typed up several text messages to him but chicken out every time I go to hit send. The last text I sent him was me telling him I miss him and he never responded. The message said read so I know he saw it but he didn’t reply. It was the night of his accident, the night he won the championship belt. I got emotional and tried to put myself out there. Unfortunately, he didn’t reciprocate. I should give him the benefit of the doubt since it’s possible the accident happened before he could respond, but I’m too scared to text him and put myself out there, again. What if he saw it and just didn’t want to respond? God! I sound like such a wimp right now.

  “For reasons nobody will clue me in on. Whatever happened between you two isn’t important right now. The guy was in a car accident. He was nearly killed. Shit, Logan is still in a coma. Whatever beef you have with Marco should be put on the back burner. He needs us, Bella.”

  “Tristan, will you just leave her alone?” Gina, Tristan’s bitchy girlfriend, gives me a saccharine smile, but I know it’s fake as hell. Everything about her is fake. From her fake hair, to her fake nails, to her fake-ass personality. They met at the bar she works at and hit it off, which completely blows my mind. She’s the opposite of everything Tristan stands for. She smokes weed, dabbles in drugs, and has no goals for her future other than finding out where and when the next party is. To be honest, I don’t even know what the hell Tristan sees in her but whatever. She apparently makes him happy and I guess that’s all that matters.

  “If she wants to visit Marco, she will. Can we just go, please? And we need to stop by Starbucks on the way. I need a coffee so badly. I have the worst hangover.” Ugh! Her whiny voice is the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard… No! Worse! The equivalent of a knife scraping a ceramic plate.

  “You wouldn’t be hungover if you wouldn’t have hit the bottle so hard last night.” Tristan gives her a look that a parent gives a teenager who has misbehaved, and I have to hold back my eyeroll. I swear he spends ninety percent of their relationship trying to reign her in and change who she is. When will he realize he can’t fix her?

  “Tristan… can we please not do this? My head is going to explode.”

  Tristan sighs but nods in agreement grabbing his keys. Before they walk out the door, he gives me a look of disappointment. I grab my phone and pull up my text messages. Scrolling down, I find Marco’s name. It still shows the message I sent him that night. I take a deep breath, then type out a text.

  Me: I heard you’re going home today. I’m glad you’re okay.

  There! He knows I care, but I’m not opening myself up to be rejected.

  I stare at the phone for a few minutes, and when it dings—even though I’m staring at the damn phone!—I jump.

  Marco: Thank you

  Okay… I guess that’s that. Another thank you as a reply pretty much makes it clear how he feels… or doesn’t feel, in this case. I click out of the text message and click on YouTube. I have a fight coming up in four months and am determined to learn everything I need to about Shawna Fields. She is originally from Russia and has been fighting her entire life like me. She’s currently undefeated just like I am, only she has twice as many wins under her belt as I do. It’s not going to be a main fight, but if I can beat her, I’ll be on my way to securing something bigger.

  I watch three different videos, but I couldn’t tell you what happens in any of them. My brain is mush. Ever since I found out Marco was in a horrific car accident, where his best friend Logan swerved to avoid a collision only to cause one of his own, leaving him in a coma and Marco with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and God knows what else, I haven’t been able to focus on anything but thinking about Marco and how he’s doing.

  Because the accident was in Las Vegas, Marco and Logan were brought to the local hospital. After the doctors determined Logan was in a coma, Logan’s parents had him moved to a private facility. Marco was in the hospital for about two weeks then he spent another couple weeks recovering at his parents’ house. My dad asked if I wanted to fly over to visit Marco, but I told him I couldn’t, using school as an excuse. With midterms next month, I need to stay on top of my studies.

  The truth is I’m halfway through my sophomore year and surprisingly, I’m enjoying being in college and am on top of all my classes. I could have made a weekend trip to see Marco, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk into his room and see him battered and bruised and broken. I couldn’t see him after he almost lost his life. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. I would have lost it in front of everybody, and I can’t do that. I have to keep it t
ogether because whether I like it or not, Marco doesn’t want me the way I want him. I know he loves me in his own way, but it’s not the way I love him, and it hurts too damn bad to be around him knowing I will never have his heart the way he has mine. The way he’s had my heart for the last several years.

  Deciding to get ahead on my homework, I grab my backpack and bring it over to the table. At the end of this year, Tristan and I are going to have to pick a major. Up until this point, we’ve taken all the same classes since it’s just been the general subjects, but now we’re almost done with them and will have to figure out what we want to earn a degree in.

  Even though fighting is what I want to do with my life, I understand where my dad was coming from. I need to have a backup plan. Look what happened to Marco. Sure, he’s expected to make a full recovery, but what if he wasn’t? What if he could never fight again? Then what?

  The problem is I have no damn clue what I want to do with my life outside of fighting. My mom told me I need to do some soul searching. I’m hoping something will just fall right into my lap.

  I pull out my English II reading for the week. We’re expected to read the current event article and write an argumentative essay on whether we agree with the topic. I read the article twice and still have no idea what the hell the person is arguing about. So, instead, I run into my room, change my clothes, and head to the gym to get a workout in. At least when I’m working out, I don’t have to think.

  Chapter Seven

  Marco

  Two Months Ago

  Fuck! I am in so much goddamn pain. The doctors predict I will make a full recovery but they can’t be sure, and right now, I can’t imagine ever being fully recovered. My arm is almost healed completely—they took the cast off at the doctor’s appointment yesterday. My ribs and shoulder are also close to being healed. I’m still sore where the ribs were broken, but that’s not the problem. The problem is my back.

  When the Porsche flipped, I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, so I flew out of the vehicle while it was in motion. My back hit the concrete and I now have a herniated disc which is pressing on the nerves causing the pain to run from my ass down my leg.

  The doctors are trying to treat the herniated disk with pain meds and chiropractic therapy before they go in to do surgery. Because of this herniated disk, I can’t be cleared to workout at all. So, I’m stuck at home, not able to do shit all fucking day long.

  When I told the doctor the pain meds weren’t working, he upped my dose. The next time I told him, he told me he couldn’t up the dose and to try using cold and hot compressions. What I want to do is take the cold and hot compression packs and shove them up his fucking ass.

  I know I shouldn’t be complaining. It could be worse, especially since I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I could be in a fucking coma like Logan is. The thought of my best friend stuck in a hospital, unable to wake up, makes me sick. When the car flipped, he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt either, and when he got flung from the vehicle, he hit his head hard. There was swelling in his brain and he went into a coma while being operated on. While there’s still brain function, the doctors can’t say if or when he will wake up.

  My phone rings and it’s Janell. I might not be in any place to have sex yet, but she sure as fuck gives good head.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong baby?” Her voice is high pitched and gives me a headache. I prefer her not talking, which means her mouth stays around my cock as much as possible.

  “I’m in fucking pain, Janell.”

  “I can bring you something for that…” She’s told me this same thing numerous times, and every time so far, I’ve turned her down. I don’t want to become a druggy like my biological mom.

  But how the hell am I ever supposed to get back to fighting if I can’t get cleared because of the fucking pain I’m in.

  “Okay,” I tell her, then hang up without waiting for a response.

  About thirty minutes later she knocks on my door then lets herself in. Mathias is at work, as usual, so it’s just us.

  “I brought you a couple different things to try,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. Janell has bragged several times that her brother is a huge drug dealer and can get her anything she wants. She doesn’t a lot drugs when we hang out, but I know through friends of ours she can party hard.

  “I have coke, OxyContin, and Percocet.” She hands me three baggies.

  “My brother also gave me some heroin.” She places a foiled square on the table.

  “What the fuck, Janell! I’m not shooting up.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “There are other ways to do heroin. It’s a powder so you can heat it up in the foil and inhale it, or you can sniff it like you would coke. No needles necessary.”

  “I’m not doing coke or heroin.” I grab the two baggies with pills from the table and decide on the Oxy. It’s one step up from the shit my doctor prescribed me. I open the baggy and pop two of the pills into my mouth praying for some relief from this pain.

  I close my eyes and let the drugs do their job and soon the numbness begins to take over. Maybe for a little bit all the pain will go away. I’ll forget my best friend is in a fucking coma, that I can’t fight, that Bella didn’t even bother to come see me in the fucking hospital. Maybe for just a little while I can forget it all. I feel Janell’s hands wandering up my leg, but I am finally at peace for the moment.

  “Go away,” I tell her before falling asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Bella

  Four Weeks Ago

  “What do you mean there’s a party going on at Marco’s place?” Tristan asks Gina while they’re sitting on the couch watching one of her ridiculous reality shows. I hear Marco’s name and instantly my ears perk up. It’s been a month since Marco has been back in California and I’ve heard from my parents he’s struggling with the fact that the doctor hasn’t cleared him to exercise in any way.

  “It’s all over Facebook. Janell has invited everyone.”

  “Who’s Janell?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant while I’m sitting at the table studying for my math test. Tristan should be studying as well, but whenever Gina is around, she gets upset if he doesn’t give her all his attention, and since she’s not in college, she doesn’t understand how much studying is required.

  “Marco’s girlfriend,” Gina says. “She waitresses at Bradley’s with me.” I knew Tristan met Gina at the bar she waitresses at, but I didn’t know she hangs out in the same circle as Marco.

  “All right, let’s go.” Tristan sighs.

  “Yes! This party is going to be lit.” Gina jumps up, ready to head out the door.

  “We’re only going there to check on Marco. Caleb just texted me and said Mathias is out of town. He’s afraid Marco might be sinking into some kind of depression. No drugs, Gina, please,” Tristan pleads, and my heart breaks for my best friend. It’s evident he cares about her, but it’s also evident she cares more about getting high than taking his feelings into consideration.

  “Do you need to get changed before we go?” I think he’s still talking to Gina, but when I look up I see they’re staring at me.

  “Oh no, I’m not going to a party at Marco’s. It’s like one in the morning.” I shake my head to put emphasis on my answer.

  “Yeah, you are, because Caleb is worried about Marco and has asked me to go over there and check on him, and Marco hasn’t answered any of our calls or texts.”

  “And how does that translate to me going to Marco’s house?”

  Tristan stands and walks over to me, leaning over the table with his fists hitting the tabletop. “Because regardless of why you and Marco aren’t talking, he’s our best goddamn friend. More so yours than mine. And if something is wrong, we’re going to be there for him. So, for one fucking minute, put aside your petty bullshit and think about our friend.”

  Well, shit.

  “Fine.” I throw on a pair of skinny jeans, a loose tank top, and grab my Cooper’s Gym hoodie.
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br />   We pile into Tristan’s truck, and about twenty-five minutes pull up to what I assume is Marco’s condo. Since we stopped talking before he moved, I’ve never seen the place he shares with his cousin, Mathias. Tristan said it’s on the beach, but holy shit, this place is amazing.

  Tristan finds a parking spot and we walk up the stairs to the second floor. I know exactly which condo is Marco’s as soon as we reach the second-floor landing. There are people standing outside, the music is blaring, and his front door is wide open. There’s got to be at least fifty people here.

  “Let’s split up and look for him,” Tristan suggests. Gina sees some girls she knows and starts chatting and laughing with them. When we get inside, I’m shocked at what I see. There are drugs and liquor bottles scattered all over the table and counters. Pills, powder, there’s even someone shooting up.

  I start searching for Marco in the living room and notice Tristan is heading out to the back patio. So, I head in the opposite direction down the hall. The hallway is filled with people, forcing me to have to push through them. As I’m about to knock on the first door, a guy and girl come out. Okay… guess he’s not in there. I glance inside and see it’s a bathroom.

  The second door is locked, so I knock a few times but nobody answers. I spot one more door a little farther down so I go to that door. It’s unlocked, so I open it up slowly, afraid of what I might find. The room is pitch black, but I can see the silhouette of a body lying in the bed.

  “Marco?” I whisper. Realizing there’s no way he can hear me over the music, I say his name louder. “Marco?”