The Aftermath (The Hurricane, #2)(32)

“Love you too, Mrs. O’Connell.”

“For f*ck’s sake. You love him. He loves you. We all love each other. Can we go now? We’re only going to the f*cking gym, you know. He’ll be back tonight.” Em rolled her eyes at Tommy’s interruption but I knew why he’d done it. I ragged on Tommy a whole lot, but he worshipped my wife. Loved her like family and would lay down his life for her. He knew that no matter how much she put a brave face on it, the next few months would be hard on her, on all of us. I needed Tom to keep her safe, to keep her cheerful, to be her friend.

“Come on then, arsewipe. Let’s see how f*cking fast and cocky you are tomorrow after a few rounds with me.”

“Done,” he agreed, and after kissing Em on the cheek and reminding her about tomorrow, he was bounding down the stairs next to me.

“Thanks for that, Tom. I really don’t know how this shit with Frank is going to go down, but I need you by Em’s side through this. It’s the only way my head’s gonna be in any place good for the fight.”

“That missus of yours is stronger than people give her credit for. She may well be the strongest one of us all,” he told me gravely.

“She has to be,” I told him.

“Listen, you do what you have to do, and I’ll take care of your girl. Ma knows what’s going down. Da’s giving me a couple of weeks off when the trial is on so I can go with her, and Ma and the family will most likely be there too. Being alone ain’t something Em’s gotta worry about.”

“I owe you big, I know that. Not just for this but for last time as well.”

“There’s no debt. You’re like my brother, but I ain’t doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.” He pressed my buttons and deliberately wound me up, but when it came to taking care of my wife, there was no better man I could have picked than Tommy. I knew then that I’d let him get at least one hit in when we were sparring. No more than that though. When he got one in, he usually didn’t shut up about it for days. Walking through the heavy oak doors of Danny’s gym, I breathed in the smell of home and smiled. This place was my sanctuary, my haven, and my church. Every good thing that ever happened to me, I could attribute to these brick walls. In the corner, past all the kids knocking about on bags and doing their circuits, sat the old, weathered boxing ring in all her majesty. Before this thing was over, she would bring me to my knees and remind me that, no matter how much I thought I knew about fighting, she would always show me I had more to learn. Walking over there, I placed my bag down on the floor and ran my hand across the canvas reverently.

“You ready for this, son?” Danny asked, coming out of nowhere.

“I think so,” I told him.

“There’s no ‘think’ about it. If you’re ready—be ready. I’m gonna take you to the limit of what you know your body can do and keep going. When I’m done, Thor himself would crap lightning bolts at the thought of getting in the ring with you. That boy, he beat you once. No doubt about it. But a good fighter knows when to quit. A great fighter doesn’t know what the word means. When you’re seconds from the bell, you keep fighting. When you can’t see out of either eye cause they’re busted up so bad, you keep fighting. If you can do that, if you can give me that, I’ll make you world champion. Now I’ll ask you again, son. You ready?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered with a big f*ckin’ grin. As his speech went on, one by one the guys moved to the edge of the ring to hear what he was saying.

“Well, then,” said Danny.

“Let’s get to work.”

“I got something for you that’s gonna help,” Tommy chipped in. Jumping down from the edge of the canvas where he’d been sitting he ran flat out to the office and back again. “Here,” he said, handing me a clear case with “Con” scribbled in black marker across the front.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“I made you a CD. It’s like the Rocky theme and a load of other songs to train to.”

I grinned broadly at him. “You made me a mixtape. Does that mean we’re going steady?” I said, making Kieran laugh.

“Fuck you!” he said. “I try and do something nice and this is the f*cking thanks I get.”

“No this is great, really. Thanks, Tom,” I told him sincerely.

No longer caring, he walked toward the changing room, flipping me the backwards bird. “Whatever, loser,” he shouted back.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” said Kieran, grabbing the CD off me. We changed quickly and walked back into the gym just as the opening bars to the Rocky theme song sounded through the gym speakers.

“It might be cheesy, but it definitely pumps you up,” Liam pointed out.

“Fucking told you bitch, didn’t I?” said Tommy, smirking. Kieran grinned at me, and I gave him a rare grin back. We all felt it. We were the underdogs, the misfits, the castoffs who wouldn’t amount to anything. Temple had state-of-the-art training facilities, and we had the Rocky soundtrack and a beat-up old gym. But we had each other. We had the fire and the drive to win, to succeed. I wasn’t alone in this. We were brothers, and we were bringing it to the f*cking table.

*



The first day of serious training is always the worst. I was always in good shape but a few weeks of eating takeaway food and Em’s baking had taken its toll. The six-pack never went anywhere but my body knew the difference. My diet was so strictly regimented I didn’t dare even open one of the tins at home for fear I’d be licking cake crumbs out of desperation. I was up at 5 a.m. and running by 5:30. A five-mile jog started off the day, followed by bag work, circuits, core training, sparring, and more running. I landed more punches an hour than I cared to count. Danny pushed me to the absolute limit of what I ever imagined my body could do.