Take Me On (Pushing the Limits #4)(109)

She’s beautiful and strikingly real. “I love you.”

Her fingers curl around the fence and touch mine. The coolness of her fingertips against my hot skin causes me to close my eyes. Fuck, she seems so real. “Open your eyes, West.”

I do and those dark, gorgeous eyes dig deep into mine.

“John, we’ve got a problem.”

There’s commotion behind me and a hand goes on my arm. “Turn toward me, son.”

The voice is John’s, but I’m not interested. I’m only interested in what’s in front of me...only interested in her touch. I’m f*cking lost in my own mind, but I don’t care. If I turn away, she’ll be gone and I can’t live through that again.

“West,” she says calmly. “Let the doctor look at you.”

“You’ll go away,” I answer. “I don’t want you to go away.”

She presses her nails into me, penetrating deep enough to cause pain. “I’m real.”

The air slams out of my body and I lose my grip on the fence. “You’re what?”

John slides in front of me. “What’s your name?”

“West Young.” I yank my head to the right to see Haley again. “She’s here.”

“She’s here,” he repeats.

Another man blocks my view of Haley and he takes my hands. “Look at me.”

I do. He asks a few more questions and I answer while trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head.

“Can you fight?” he asks.

Haley holds on to the fence and stares at me like she’s actually worried. Like she’s actually in love with me. “Fuck yeah.”

I swing around and face Matt again in the center of the ring with the ref between us. The son of a bitch glances over at Haley, and when he meets my eyes again, I smile. “You ain’t got nothing.”

“Clean fight, boys,” says the ref.

“What the f*ck did you say?” demands Matt.

I hold out my fist and Matt bumps it. “I said you ain’t got nothing. No girl and no hit.”

We break apart and I keep my arms at my sides. Haley spent months drilling it into my brain to keep my head on straight, to keep my emotions in check, because if I lost it, I’d lose the game plan and the fight. The same has to be true with the bastard across from me.

The yelling, the cheering, the world fades out and a sense of calm washes over me. Two things remain in my world: the * in the cage and Haley’s voice. “Guard up, Young.”

It’ll go up—when I’m ready.

Matt and I dance around each other and I pump my fist into my chest. “You ain’t got nothing.”

Matt jerks with the statement and I throw my arms forward and back, begging for the hit. “Nothing. Hit me all damn day. You ain’t got it.”

Abandoning his form, Matt lunges and I allow the free shot to my head. I turn with the impact and jump back at the same time. Fire consumes his eyes when I smile at him. “Nothing.”

His crew yells at him and I laugh because they see what Matt doesn’t. I’m mentally taking the show, but Matt’s lost in my words. I nod my chin for him to try again, but this time when he attacks, I pull up my guard, watch as he lowers his, then ram a two-one combination into his face.





Haley

“Kick series! Kick series!” I bang on the cage.

West has taken control and he solidly kicks Matt’s side. Matt doubles over. Good God in heaven, West has struck a knee-bending blow. He could do this. He could stand for all three rounds.

The ref slides between Matt and West and checks Matt to make sure can continue. My eyes meet West’s and I nod my approval. “Keep that guard up.”

Matt waves the ref off and West refocuses on the fight. Matt’s trained and he’s experienced. He slipped into emotion and he won’t allow the mistake again. He’ll want retaliation and he’ll want it on the floor. “Stay off the floor,” I scream. “He wants the floor!”

Matt surges forward and West sidesteps the wrong way. Both of them slam to the ground and the cage vibrates with the impact. The crowd goes insane.

Matt tries to throw a knee over West to straddle. His elbow and forearm go after West’s air passage and West scrambles to move away, but Matt’s too trained to allow easy release.

“Kick your hips up! Get under his legs!”

West thrusts up and Matt crashes into him, sending him back down. He presses his forearm into West’s windpipe.

“Kick your hips up!” I yell again. “Under his legs!”

But West panics with the loss of air and his hands shoot to Matt’s arms. I bang against the fence. “Listen to me, Young!”

The reaction is instantaneous. He thrusts back up again and Matt’s grip loosens. The crowd hollers their approval when West ducks and rolls out of the hold and brings the fight back to their feet.

Matt and West round each other. The crowd claps in unison, waiting for either to attack. I glance at the ticking clock. “Thirty seconds!”

Three rounds of three minutes each and the end is near. His first competition and I know he needs to finish it out. Both of them sway with exhaustion. Matt stomps forward and West reacts by jumping out of the way. Matt will go for the knees again.

We trained for this moment. I dragged West through the mud and back again. At this point, it has nothing to do with strength, but everything to do with heart.