For the first time in three months, I saw Grace smile, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. She dragged herself to her feet and limped over to the sofa, and I pulled her against me, my hand knotted in her hair, her face against my chest. Jesus Christ it felt good, like returning home. I wanted to hang on to her like that forever.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"I know." She didn't say "that's okay," and she was right not to, because it wasn't. But maybe it didn't have to be.
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Well, Joy isn't coming back until tomorrow, so I guess maybe we get rid of all this," she nodded to the bottles, "and then we sleep."
"And tomorrow?"
She looked up at me, eyes shining. "Tomorrow, we start fresh."
Epilogue
Logan
The ground shook — five hundred voices at fever pitch, vibrating through concrete and wood. It registered dimly in the back of my head, but I tuned it out. It wasn't relevant, just background noise, like wind through a gully.
The crowd roared as I stepped into the arena, and my eyes went instinctively to Grace. She smiled up at me from the front row, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. She looked absolutely radiant. It felt like a miracle to see her that way again, vibrant and full of energy. It had been three months since she came to me in Charlie's cabin, and her injuries were mostly healed now. She'd carry some scars for the rest of her life, but scars can be helpful if you look at them right. They can be a reminder, a warning.
It still made me cringe, thinking of her lying broken in that hospital bed. I'd come so close to losing her, in more ways than one. Even now, I still had no idea how she'd found it in herself to forgive me — I sure as hell didn't deserve it — but I was done second guessing things. She'd saved me, and it was something I'd never forget. There were still moments when I became terrified about what the future might hold for us, but I didn't let them overwhelm me anymore. Right now, we were together, and that was enough.
I shot her a grin and blew a suggestive little kiss that she caught in one hand, swooning dramatically. Moments like this were worth a lifetime of pain. They were worth the risk. We still weren't back to the place we'd been before the accident. After everything that had happened, rebuilding wasn't easy, but we were making progress. She had to learn to trust me again, and I had to learn not to hate myself for what I'd done.
The first few weeks after returning to the world were rough for both of us. Going cold turkey is agony and, even with life returning to "normal," there were plenty of occasions where the allure of a quick drink was almost overpowering. What kept it in check was Grace. She was a goddamn inspiration. I'd seen the truth in her eyes that day in the cabin — she came incredibly close to breaking down too. After the things she'd been through and the pain I'd caused, I couldn't blame her. But somehow, she found the strength to stay dry. If she could manage that, then I could do the same.
I'm not sure Grace's parents felt the same way. They were still in town, and they made no secret of the fact that they didn't like me. I understood. If I had a daughter, I sure as hell wouldn't want her with a fuckup like me. They didn't know the details of everything that went on between us, but they could spot trouble when it was lurking nearby. I didn't know if they would be a problem yet, but for now we seemed to have reached an impasse.
I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders. I felt good. It had been hard work getting my body back into combat shape after the damage I'd done. At the time I'd been sure I'd never fight again, so what did it matter? But there I stood in the ring again, the only place I was truly at ease. My body felt loose, my muscles primed. I was ready.
In the end, Charlie had solved our problem. He'd sold Final Blow to Task, on the condition that it was folded into his own league. In return, Task promoted him to general manager, putting him in charge of the day-to-day running of the league. Charlie acted like he did it for my benefit, but a few days watching him in his new role told me how excited he was about the opportunity. Now he got to play puppet master with a much bigger set of toys.
Running a national league is a big step up from the nickel and dime stuff of Final Blow, and he soon realized he had to take a step back from the bar to dedicate himself full time. He hired some new manager, a woman named Beth, who seemed competent.
I could have ditched my job too, if I wanted. My new contract combined with the huge TPW winners' purses was likely enough to keep me sitting pretty, but there was something about Charlie's that stayed with me. It's where I found my feet after everything went to shit, it's where I found the ring, and it's where I met Grace. I wasn't ready to throw away all those new beginnings just yet. I still worked a couple of nights a week — short shifts that still left plenty of time for training. I had another incentive for hanging around too — Grace was also back there. She was determined to get back into a kitchen soon, but until a position opened up, the bar paid the bills. In some ways, I think that was good for us. It took us back to the beginning, those nights cleaning up once everyone had left. The best way to rebuild is going back to where it all began.
Even if I did quit, I wouldn't be gone from the place totally. My deal with Task meant that most of my fights would stay in Vegas. Charlie gave him this idea about setting up a home town hero in each state and having other fighters try to knock them off, so I was the new guinea pig. I still had to travel to other cities occasionally, but they'd all be on the west coast and easily accessible by car. Maybe one day I'd be ready to get on a plane, but that would be like trying to run before I could walk. Right now it was just one foot in front of the other.
Part of me still didn't like that we caved to Task's bullying, but some wars just can't be won with brute force. We lived to fight another day, and that's what was important.
Charlie announced my opponent, who stepped up beside me, studying me with derisive eyes. He was blonde and baby faced, and he moved with that limber arrogance of a youth who feels like he has the world at his feet. Charlie had told me to be careful of him. He'd steamrolled his last five TPW fights, but that only made the moment sweeter. A real threat was exactly what I needed. I c
ould feel my pulse through my clenched fists, slow, but gradually increasing. Long dormant electricity was building in my veins, that heady rush of adrenaline that would set my reflexes on a hair trigger and send my mind soaring. I glanced once more at the girl who had saved me. Grace grinned and raised a fist, giving an exaggerated whoop. This was what I lived for, now. Grace's smile and the thrill of the fight.
Hope is a dangerous thing, but now it's a risk that I'm willing to take.