The Guy in the Middle (The Underdogs 3)

Lance lands another and another, dominating until he has Otto on the ropes.

I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. “It’s you, Lance, you’re the next big upset! This is yours! This is your legacy! Fight, baby!” I scream through the thousands of other voices shouting their support. With the uproar from every punch, I realize Otto is no longer the favorite.

“It’s you, Lance! It’s you!” The minute the words leave my lips, Lance delivers a right, and Otto goes down.

Everyone in our row mimics the ref’s count. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Otto does a slow climb back to his feet and nods to the ref. Undeterred, Lance takes two long strides to get to him and delivers one last blow that I know everyone watching felt. Otto goes down and in the next second, Lance’s glove is raised.

All of the fights, the sacrifice, all of the hurt, the heartache, the need, the failures, the faith he lost, the faith he found, it all comes down to this moment. The moment he thought impossible until he saw it for himself and earned it.

Lance Prescott. The heavyweight champion of the world.

Seconds after Tony pummels him in celebration, Trevor meets me at the side of the ring, hoisting me up as Rip guides me through the ropes. I rush to Lance, who’s already fighting the growing crowd to get to me. He’s swollen and bloody, but I can read every emotion in his eyes.

“You did it!” I scream hysterically as he captures me and lifts me effortlessly into his arms. We hug for long seconds as I sputter out everything I’m thinking. “I’m so proud of you. We all are. He saw it, Lance. Your dad saw it. He saw it. Oh my God. You did it.”

“I know, baby, I know. I love you, I love you,” he murmurs again and again, ignoring the celebration around him.

“I always knew this was yours,” I say, sobbing into his chest.

He pulls away and grips my head with his gloves as his belt is set on his shoulder. “And that’s why I’m here. Because I believed you.”

Seven months later…

Lance

I stand in wait for my bride at the end of the aisle with Trevor, Troy, and Theo by my side. The church is only half full because we wanted the wedding intimate, but everyone who matters to us most is here. Three weeks after I won my belt, I moved to New York. From then on, it’s been a whirlwind. Endorsement offers came in, and my staff is losing their shit to keep up. On the other side of things, I keep busy training to defend my title while Harper dances at various shows of her choosing. She’s at the stage where her door is being knocked on now, not the other way around.

I’ve never been prouder of her than I was on her last opening night before she accepted the roses I brought to her feet. She’s a star, no longer able to mask her talent, she’s now sought after, thriving. Just like I knew she would be.

Mom leads Dad down the aisle, he shuffles his steps before they take their seats in the first pew. She’s already choking up, and I have to force myself to look away from her, so I don’t do the same. I’m not nervous, just ready. Ready to give this woman my last name, though our life together started years ago.

“You nervous, brother?” Trevor whispers from next to me, clad in his fitted tuxedo.

“Not one bit.”

“Proud of you,” he says, cupping my shoulder.

“Don’t do that shit now.”

He chuckles, knowing I’m on the verge of getting emotional.

He’s caught up with me in size, surpassing my height by an inch. He’s all man now, and cocky as ever, but he’s excelling at school. And I’m pretty sure he’s smitten with one of his coeds. He goes home every weekend to help out at the ranch like I did, though he doesn’t have to. I’ve managed to find capable hands, and as of now, the ranch is in good shape, though I anticipate ups and downs. But Trevor watches just as closely over our legacy. He’s a lot like me, family first, and I can’t think of a better man to be at my side. Troy and Theo stand next to him in matching tuxes, eyeing their wives across the aisle. Laney shifts in her boots, her eyes fixed on Theo as Clarissa shifts uncomfortably in her dress, looking every bit the eight months pregnant she is. Troy chuckles at her constant fidgeting and clears his throat when he catches her answering glare.

On my side, my parents, Rip, a few guys Troy and I played with at Grand, and all of our ranch hands sit idle, waiting on Harper’s entrance.

Harper’s side is full to the brim, with half of the dance population of New York. Her mother sits upfront along with Nana, who’s next to René. She winks at me, and I wink back. René mistakes my wink for him and blows me a kiss. I roll my eyes and surprise him by puckering up. I can’t hear him when he speaks, but I know whatever he’s saying is not fit for church. Though I did promise him a dance after the wedding.

Not looking forward to it.

Soft music is playing in the background as I take in the décor. Harper went all out, put her soul into this day, planning every detail. It’s then I really notice the sprays and sprays of white flowers that line the pews, and it dawns on me.

“I picture a grand church, lined with large pillars with high arches hovering above. White roses showing little greenery everywhere. Everything white. All of my family and friends gathered. The perfect music.”

She wasn’t planning her funeral that night. She saw the end, or rather our beginning. Even when we were unsure of every move we were making, her faith was unshakable.

Determined not to let my emotions get to me, I avert my eyes from the eager faces lining the pews when the music starts.

Fucking hell.