Fighter's Kiss: An enemies-to-lovers MMA romance (Irish Kiss Book 3), page 33
The doors to the ER opened and Danny guided me through.
Ask him now, my mind screamed. You need to know. Is he alive? It’s a simple question. Ask it! Is Declan alive?
I couldn’t open my lips.
My shoes squeaked on the linoleum floors as Danny gently eased me past hospital beds, curtains drawn shut, and hallways lined with imposing-looking medical equipment. We stopped at an elevator.
How bad is he hurt?
Danny helped me into the elevator when my knees wobbled beneath me. I didn’t look at which number he pushed. If Danny spoke to me on the elevator ride, I didn’t hear him over the rush of blood in my ears.
The elevator doors parted and we were immediately greeted with two security guards. They went to block our path but immediately moved when they saw it was Danny and me.
It wasn’t loud on this floor of the hospital, but I suddenly wished it were…I could hear myself too loudly here.
How bad is it?
My throat was dry and my head was pounding when halfway down the dimly lit hallway, Danny gently guided my shoulders to a closed door. I stared at his hand as he reached for the door handle, silently praying for it to stop.
He pushed the door open.
We stepped inside.
Despite how hard I bit my quivering lower lip, I couldn’t prevent the tears, hot and fast, from falling this time at the sight of Declan on that bed in that room as a nurse adjusted a stark white sheet over him next to a doctor who pushed some button on some machine. Desperately, I scanned his pale body for signs of life. I searched his purple-ringed eyes for the slightest quiver of his eyelids. But my vision wavered and I couldn’t be sure of anything.
Is he okay? Is there brain activity? Danny’s arm around me held me in place as I tried to peddle backwards as the chest rattling sobs started.
The doctor hurried toward me and with Danny’s help, eased me into a chair against the window with its blinds drawn. “This is Ms Moore?” the doctor asked, kneeling in front of me.
Danny nodded. “River.”
I buried my hands in my face so I couldn’t see Declan. “Is he alive?” I gasped against my wet fingers, unable to avoid the question any longer. “Is Declan okay?”
“Mr Gallagher is presently in a coma,” the doctor started. “He entered the ER with a very serious head injury and given his medical history, we transferred him immediately into the ICU.”
This my fault. I should have stayed and fought harder for him. I shouldn’t have run; run like I always do.
I felt a hand rubbing comforting circles on my back and knew it must be Danny.
“When will he wake up?” I whispered in the warm darkness behind my hands.
There was a pause that grew and grew and grew.
“To be honest, River, Mr Gallagher could wake up this afternoon,” he explained. “But there is also the real possibility that he might never wake up. Head injuries like these are…difficult to predict.”
I sagged in the chair in grief, in despair, in helplessness.
“Doctor,” Danny finally spoke, “would it be possible for River to have a moment alone with Declan?”
The doctor pushed himself to his feet in front of me. “We’ll be back in a bit to monitor any changes in his condition.”
“Thank you,” Danny said.
Shoes rapped on the linoleum floor, and then I heard the door open before clicking shut.
“River?”
Danny’s quiet voice was close to my ear.
“River, I know he would have wanted you to be here,” Danny whispered. “I think he…he needs you.” His hand squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll go get us some coffees from the cafeteria downstairs to give you two some time together, alright?”
I didn’t reply, not even a nod, but Danny still patted my shoulder and again, I heard the door open before clicking shut as I remained hidden behind my hands. My breath was loud, fast, and raspy in my dark cocoon.
I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t.
Pulling my hands from my face and without glancing back toward Declan, I hurried to the door. My fingers wrapped around the door handle and I was about to tug it open when I paused. I rested my forehead against the window and exhaled shakily.
“I’m sorry, Declan,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to stop running.”
I looked over my shoulder at Declan lying unconscious in the hospital bed.
“I ran last night.”
Without realising it, my hand had dropped from the door handle. I found my feet moving toward the chair at Declan’s bedside. I frowned as my messy thoughts whirled around my head.
“I ran last night and yet, here I am,” I said aloud as it all dawned on me suddenly. “I ran right back to you.”
Sinking into the chair next to him, I laid my hand across the tubes and wires following his forearm. I shook my head in confusion as I stared at his closed eyelids.
“My whole life I thought I was running from something, from someone,” I whispered. “But maybe I’d just never known the truth…I was running to you, Declan.”
I slid my fingers down to his and gently interlaced ours together.
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop running,” I admitted, “but I think I’ll always be running to you, no matter how hard I try to stop.”
My throat tightened with emotion and I swiped fresh tears from my cheek.
“I tried to run from the manor, but instead I ran into your arms. To run from my fear of judgement, but instead I ran into your acceptance. I tried to run from my insecurities, but then I ran into a love so deep, I’m afraid I’ll never stop falling.”
My tears trailed down Declan’s chest as I rested my cheek against his shoulder, my body shaking.
“I can’t stop,” I sobbed. “Declan, I can’t stop running to you. So please…” I gasped and clenched my eyes shut. “Baby, please don’t go where I can’t follow.”
I was trying to catch my breath as panic, love, fear, devotion, hope, and despair all flooded my heart when I felt Declan’s thumb move to trace slow, uncoordinated circles on the back of my hand. Chest seizing, I looked up to find his eyes, tired and pain-filled but awake and waiting for mine.
“Run to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and rough. “River, run to me.”
Declan
The rolling green horizon hadn’t even seen the first touch of golden morning rays when I flung back the sheets and slipped out of bed. My whole body buzzed from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers all the way down to the last inch of my pinkie toe. I needed to move—I needed to move now.
I’d already slept too long.
As I tugged on my sweats, I watched River sleepily push a stray curl from her face and blink in the still dim light.
“What are you doing?” she asked when I sat back down on the bed next to her to slip on my sneakers. “Is it your head?”
I shook my head, leaned over to lace my sneakers, and answered, “I have to get to work.”
River pushed herself up onto her elbows as she frowned in concern. “Work?” My oversized t-shirt she slept in slipped off her shoulder.
My fingers froze halfway through tightening the knot on my left shoe. The sight of her messy bed head haloing in the soft light, her hooded eyes, and the promise of her naked body just under that flimsy material almost made me kick back off my sneakers and crawl right back underneath the covers with her.
Focus. I couldn’t let her distract me, no matter how tempting her nipples were peaked like that against the thin material of my t-shirt in the cold of the morning.
“Declan?”
“It’s time to work on my title, baby,” I said in a rush as I leaned across the bed and pressed a quick peck to her forehead, which was furled in confusion. “I’ve got to go.”
I stood to leave, but she caught my arm and tugged me back toward her. “Declan, you already have the title,” she said softly as if I was fragile and a word any louder than a whisper might break me. “Dominic was stripped of the title because of the king hit and it transferred to you. They’re shipping the belt to the manor, remember?”
River ran her thumb in circles on the underside of my forearm. Her touch alone almost wiped out all my drive to leave her by herself in our room.
“Baby, do you feel okay?” River asked, concern obvious now. “Is it your head? Should we call the doctor?”
I unwrapped her fingers from my arm and kissed the back of her hand. “It was just a bad concussion, River,” I said as her eyes searched mine in the dim light.
I got lucky. Dominic’s hit could have killed me. I could have easily died without ever winning the title that was more important to me than anything else in the world.
That was why I wasn’t going to waste my second chance at it. I had to get to work.
River again reached for me.
This time, I stepped back and her hand fell to the bed. “I’ve got to go,” I repeated.
“Declan, please,” she whispered. “Just come back to bed. You have the title.”
I shook my head. “It’s not enough. I want more.”
River sank back into the bed, defeated, as I made my way in the dark toward the door.
Halfway through, I ducked my head back into the room. “Oh, and I’ll have some things for you to do today, so I’ll need you in the office.”
The door clicked shut before I could hear her response, if there even was one. Leaning against the door, in the silent hallway, I squeezed my eyes shut and reassured myself it was worth it, it would all be worth it.
As I requested, Chef was already up and cooking in the kitchen when I made my way downstairs for my morning smoothie.
“You sure you’re ready for all of this?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at me from the stovetop.
My only answer was to start guzzling the thick green drink and try to keep my foot from tapping nervously on the kitchen tiles.
“Did you sleep at all?” Chef pressed. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
Does tossing and turning all night and replaying terrible scenario after terrible scenario about what could happen in the cage count as sleeping?
“Just make sure dinner’s ready when it’s supposed to be, okay?” I grumbled as I tossed the dirty smoothie cup into the sink and stalked out of the kitchen, making sure not to let Chef see my shaking hands.
What if it all went wrong again? What if I couldn’t do it? What if my past snuck its long, rotting fingers through the mesh of the cage and ripped my feet from underneath me?
“Declan, your delivery came,” Joan called out from the dining room as I passed by. “I tried to move it from the front door to the gym, but it was too heavy.”
“Great, great,” I said distractedly. “I’ll get it.”
I lugged the big box to the gym and placed it by the cage. Just that effort alone made my brow sweat and my heart rate leap. I’m not ready for this, I thought as I stared through the mesh walls in the silence of the gym.
I stood there and remembered the deafening roar of the crowd that night. I remembered the way the floor shook beneath my feet. I remembered what I lost, what I almost lost forever.
I vowed right then and there never to make the same mistake twice.
As I suspected she would, River avoided me most of the morning and well into the afternoon. When I texted her to tell her I needed some help, she delayed in arriving to the gym and marched straight to the office without making eye contact, just as I guessed would happen. I busied myself at the punching bag till the door to her little office in the back slammed shut.
Me: I need you to post some updates on my social media.
River: Fine.
Sure that she was determined to stay in the office instead of coming out to talk to me, I figured it was safe to lug the brown box into the cage. I’ll text you what to say.
I can’t read your mind, her text replied.
I was typing when my cell phone buzzed again with another text from River.
Clearly.
It’s going to be worth it, I repeated. It’s going to be worth it.
Anyone who thought I would stop after this MMA title doesn’t know me. I texted again, Hey, while you’re working on that, can you check the delivery status of my belt?
Shoving my cell phone into my pocket, I pulled the tape from the box as quietly as I could. I had to work quickly. I was halfway done when River texted back.
I’m checking now. Anything else you wanna say?
The words came easily. ‘My next title will be my greatest yet.’ Post that.
Her text read, Yes, master...
I had to hold back a grin.
I went back to work, checking every once in a while to make sure the door to the little office stayed closed. I wasn’t done yet, so I quickly texted again… Add, ‘I’m terrified about going after it, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t, no matter the cost.’
This time, I didn’t receive a response back from River.
Slipping out of the cage, I hurried on tiptoes toward the front of the gym and switched off the large overhead lights. Reds and purples from the deepening sunset poured across the cage, a stark contrast from the glare of the phosphorescent.
Me: ‘It’s the only thing that matters to me now.’
I pulled a lighter from my pocket. I was halfway around the cage when my phone buzzed.
River: Umm, there’s been some sort of mistake. They said the shipment for your belt to the manor was cancelled.
I hurriedly finished what I was doing before I responded, Figure out who cancelled it then.
I’m on the line with them now, she texted back.
I want to post a picture of the next title I’m going after on social media.
River’s response, Kinda busy.
I typed in the words, I’ll send you a picture of it.
It almost slipped from my fingers as I pulled it from my back pocket. I laid it gently in my open palm and positioned my cell phone’s camera above it. The photo came out a little blurry because of my shaking hands, but I simply couldn’t wait long enough to try again. My phone buzzed one after the other before I could send it.
River: What’s this?
River: You cancelled the shipment for your MMA belt?
River: Declan, why would you do that?
Smiling, I pressed “Send” for the picture and stood in the centre of the cage as I waited for a reply. I waited. And waited. And waited…
I was staring at the screen of my cell, worry and doubt creeping into the back of my mind, when I heard not the buzz of my phone, but the creak of the little back office door as it slowly opened.
Looking up, I found River in the doorway, staring across the gym at me.
When she saw me smile back over at her and drop to one knee in the centre of the cage that was ringed with flickering candles, her cell phone fell from her hand.
My heart thudded faster and faster as she made her way slowly through the weight equipment toward me. My palms grew slick with sweat as she stepped into the cage with me. My throat tightened as she came to a stop in front of me.
Her eyes, soft in the candlelight, found mine.
In a simple cherry blossom-pink dress and her scuffed sneakers with her hair loose and wild around her face, I’d never found her more beautiful. I reached out my hand for her. Her fingers quivered as she placed them gently in mine. I held her like she was the most delicate petal of the rarest mountain flower.
I breathed in deeply. “River.”
I rotated the ring nervously in my other hand when River sucked in a gasping breath.
“River,” I started again, “before you crashed into my life, the thought of being on my knees in this cage meant weakness, submission, defeat.”
River stared down sweetly at me as I gained the courage to continue.
“I thought I always had to be standing tall in here, strong and proud and victorious,” I said, my voice soft. “I thought I would never willingly drop down onto my knees.”
“Declan…” River whispered.
“But you’ve shown me that there is a different kind of strength than muscles and brutality, and that’s the strength of kindness. You’ve shown me that there is a different kind of victory than an arm raised high in a cage, and that’s the victory of devotion. You’ve shown me that there is a different kind of success than money and fame and silly plastic belts, and that’s the kind of success I want, that I hope you’ll give me here tonight.”
River’s eyes were shining in the candlelight. Her fingers squeezed mine.
I squeezed hers. My voice wavered a bit as I continued, but I no longer cared. “The only I title I care about now is the title of having the gentlest touch on a Sunday morning, the title of bringing you the best pancakes in bed. Of making you the richest chicken soup when you’re sick and cracking the lamest jokes when you’re sad. I want the title of best shoulder to cry on, best lover, best dance partner in the rain.”
A tear ran down River’s cheek as she laughed. She quickly caught it and smiled down at me.
“The only title I want now…” I paused as I held out the vintage ring I’d bought for River in Dublin, “…is the title of husband.”
I breathed in deeply for the first time in a long time, because I was finally free.
“Marry me?”
Epilogue
River
Several years later…
“Declan! Declan, over here!”
The bright flash of lights from the line of cameras blinded me, but Declan’s arm around me comforted me like nothing ever could. I smiled up at him and laid my hand on his baby-blue sweatshirt; we were long past dressing up in constricting suits and skin-tight dresses for public events. I was wearing a tulle skirt painted with wildflowers local to Ireland that I found in the same vintage store where Declan bought the ring I wore on my left hand. We promised each other to always be ourselves and ourselves alone…the world be damned.
