Seducing Cinderella (16 page)

No apology. No hesitation. He spun on his heel and six steps later was out of her life. For good.

Chapter Eighteen

Weeks, not years. Reid had to remind himself it had only been a few weeks since he’d walked out of Lucie’s apartment. It felt like a lifetime ago. Sometimes, when he was alone at night, lying in his California king—which now seemed obnoxiously empty after loving the way Lucie wrapped herself around him in her smaller queen—he wondered if he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.

But then he’d remember their last night together. The way she responded to him as he made love to her slow and gentle like he’d never done with any other woman. Like he’d never do again with any other woman.

Their month together had been all too real…and now his life without her was all too empty.

As soon as he returned to Vegas, he’d fallen into his usual routine of training sessions mixed in with some specialized PT sessions with Scotty. Though the man was an excellent doctor and Reid’s shoulder was as close to perfect as he could get it before the big fight, he’d practically had to gag himself so he didn’t verbally compare everything Scotty did against Lucie’s techniques.

He thought about her constantly and he caught himself mentioning her practically every time he opened his big mouth. It got to the point where he decided it was safer to rely on nonverbal communication like grunts. Hell, it had worked for cavemen, why not him?

It was the day before the fight. Physically, he was golden. He was in great shape, his shoulder was decent, and at the weigh-ins earlier that day he registered at a perfect two-oh-five.

Mentally, however, he’d never felt more fucked up. Normally this close to a fight the only thing running through his mind were mental images of him overtaking his opponent. But the only image running through his mind now was the stricken look on Lucie’s face when he purposely ripped the heart from her chest.

Reid growled, his frustration quickly escalating to pure anger, until he was yelling like a battle-ready Spartan. He picked up a medicine ball next to his feet and hurled it across the gym at the wall where a couple of his teammates stood next to his imaginary target.

“Whoa!” Brian said as he pushed off the wall. “What the fuck is your problem, Andrews?”

The right thing to do was apologize and walk it off. Too bad his Right Thing-ometer was irreparably damaged. “Maybe it’s you, Harty,” he said as he got in the man’s face.

“Or maybe you’re pissed off ‘cause you’re too much of a pussy to go after the girl you keep talking about till you’re blue in the balls.”

Reid’s brain went on instant standby mode as his body took over. The last thing he remembered was seeing red and shooting in at his friend’s hips, taking him down to the mats with a mighty roar to match the sound of the blood pumping in his ears. The next thing he knew there were arms everywhere peeling him off Brian and men shouting different things all at once so he couldn’t decipher anything.

“That’s enough! Break it up and hit the showers before I add a few more hours of cardio to drain the piss and vinegar outta ya’s.”

Butch. Finally a voice of reason. Reid shook off the last few hands holding him and went to gather his things.

“Andrews! In my office, now.”

Reid spun on his heel and glared at his coach. “I don’t need a lecture. Cool my heels. Got it, message received. I’m going home.”

“Hey! I don’t give a good goddamn what message you received. Get your ass in my office.”

Clenching his hands and grinding his teeth, Reid stalked into the coach’s office and dropped into one of the guest chairs. Butch followed him in, closed the door and sat in the chair next to him, leaning forward with forearms on his knees.

“What’s eatin’ you, son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid said as he crossed his arms. When all the old man did was stare at him, he threw an arm out in the direction of the gym. “I’m trying to focus on my fight and they wanna bust my balls about shit. They know better than that, Coach.”

“I saw what happened. You nearly took Harty’s head off with a medicine ball.”

Reid turned his head away, unable to look into the sky-blue eyes of the older man. He knew he’d acted like an ass—and he’d apologize to Brian later—but he didn’t know what to say.

“Reid.” The tone Butch used told him he’d wait there all day until Reid gave him what he wanted. With a resigned exhale he turned his attention back to his coach. “When you came back from Reno I was impressed with your physical condition. I was worried that without your normal routine you’d let yourself get soft around the middle, but ya did good and came back to us healthy as a horse and strong as an ox.

“But mentally—” Butch shook his head and tsked a few times. “Mentally you came back with a few screws loose, and I have a strong suspicion it has to do with that lady PT you were with. Am I right?”

Reid didn’t know how to respond or where to start. So he didn’t.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you what I think,” Butch said, leaning back with arms folded over his chest. “You fell in love with the Miller girl, but decided you weren’t good enough for her, so instead of telling her how you felt you probably said or did something to screw it up just before coming back here. How close am I?”

Pushing to his feet, Reid dragged his still-taped hands over his face then hooked them behind his neck. “Dead on.”

“I thought as much,” Butch said, rising from his chair. “So what’s your plan?”

Reid dropped his arms and narrowed an eye at his coach. “What makes you think I have a plan?”

“You never go up against a fight or a problem without a plan.” Butch eased a hip onto his desk and popped one of the peppermint candies he’d replaced cigarettes with into his mouth. “But if the way you’ve been acting is any indication, your plan sucks.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. When you have faith in your plans you’re no different than you are any other day. Our plan for the fight is solid. But you’re still messed up. Ergo—”

Reid lifted an eyebrow. “Did you really just say ‘ergo’?”

“Yeah, I did, smartass—ergo, your plan sucks.”

Reid couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. He was right. When Reid had a good plan, nothing fazed him. Not the head games his opponent flung at him through the media, not an injury he knew could be dealt with after the fight, nothing.

“My plan sucks because I don’t have one. No matter how I try I can’t find a solution that makes us happy together.”

Butch rubbed his jaw as he thought about…well, whatever it was he was thinking about. “Hmm. Yeah, I can see how that would trouble you.”

Reid stepped to the interior office window and looked out at all the things that had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. A ring for sparring, mats for grappling, padded dummies, punching bags, weights, and cardio machines. A feeling of indifference settled in the center of his chest like a crushing weight. He’d noticed that a lot lately upon entering the gym. Not even the familiar smells and sounds brought on the usual excitement.

He shrugged, feeling the tension knots in his shoulders. “It is what it is, Butch. Lucie isn’t cut out for this life. If I bring her into it, she’ll only end up leaving. She deserves someone better than me. Better than a fighter.”

“Ah, Christ.” Butch returned to his chair from earlier and gestured to the one Reid had first occupied. “Have a seat.” Too tired to argue, Reid did as he was told. “Now I want you to listen and listen good. I’m sure you know this already, but I’ve never said it outright, so here it is: You know me and Martha couldn’t have any kids of our own. Hell, it’s why she’s a schoolteacher and I decided to take on young men like yourself.

“Now I care for all my fighters—if I didn’t, they’d be out on their asses looking for a new coach—but you’ve been with me a long time, and you’re like a son to me. And no son of
mine
would have such a fucked up self-image. That’s your old man talkin’ through you, is what that is, and it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“Butch, before I showed up she was half in love with an orthopedic surgeon. The guy took her on a date and wanted to take her on more. He’s got money, good looks, and has a shit load of things in common with her.”

“So?”

“So I’m already going in as the underdog! In the grand scheme of what women look for in a guy, Dr. Douchebag wins hands down.”

“On paper. He only wins on paper, kid.” Butch leaned forward and smiled. “What have I always told you the trump card is in any fight?”

Reid met the steady gaze of his coach and started to see a glimmer of light at the end of that long, dark tunnel he’d been in for weeks. “Heart. Any fighter can win against any odds if he has more heart than his opponent.”

Butch slapped him on the shoulder and sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Exactly. And not only do you have heart, son, I’d wager you’ve got hers, too, if you want it. But that’s up to you. Now, go home and get some rest. No matter what you decide you still have a fight tomorrow and I need your head on straight or you’re gonna get it knocked off. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied as he got up to leave. Just as he opened the office door his coach called his name.

“No matter what happens, I’m here for you. Good luck, son.”

It seemed like such a normal sentiment. One that a person would hear any number of times in their life. And yet, that had been the first time Reid had ever heard those words.

He tried to speak—even a muttered “thanks” would’ve been acceptable—but his throat had completely closed up, not to mention his eyes were starting to water. Before he completely broke down he gave his coach a curt nod and closed the door behind him.

…

Reid straddled a chair with his wrists propped on the back as Scotty wrapped the athletic tape around his hands and fingers, preparing him for his fight with Diaz.

He’d had all night and most of the day to figure out what he was going to do about the situation with Lucie. A couple of hours ago he made a decision. A decision he couldn’t have predicted a few months ago, but one he was surprisingly at peace with.

A knock sounded on the door and Scotty looked to Reid for direction. Some fighters hated any type of distraction before a fight. Reid had never been the kind who needed to drown out the world with music blasting in his ears as he jumped around the room, psyching himself up. He was more like a snake hiding in the grass. Quiet, patient, and introspective until the cage door closed behind him and it was time to strike.

Reid nodded at Scotty who then called for the person to enter.

Assuming it was one of his teammates wanting to hang out in the room with him, he didn’t look up. But at the first sound of the man’s voice, Reid’s head snapped up to see his father standing in the doorway, wringing his gray plaid cabbie hat in his hands.

“Hey,” Stan said before clearing his throat. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know I was here, so…”

Scotty ripped the roll of tape off and secured the end with a few hard pats. “You’re all set, Andrews. You’ve got about a half hour or so.” Glancing at Reid’s dad, he added, “I’ll tell your corner team to wait for you out in the hall.”

“Thanks, Scotty.” He waited for the door to close again before standing and addressing the man who hadn’t come to one of his professional fights before. “Why’re you here, Pop?”

“Look, if you want me to go—”

“That’s not what I said. I just want to know…why now?”

Stan’s defensive attitude leaked out him, his shoulders rounding forward slightly, his eyes dropping to the hat dying a torturous death in his grizzled hands. After a few moments, the older man sighed, rubbed a hand over the back of his head, and met Reid’s gaze.

“When your mother left, I felt like she ripped the heart from my chest and took it with her. I made up my mind that I’d never love anyone ever again. And I guess that included you.” With heavy feet he walked over to one of the couches in the room and sat down. “I was so goddamn angry at her, and looking at you was like…”

He shook his head as if to tell himself not to finish that thought, but it was pretty obvious what he’d been about to say. “I guess I thought if I was hard enough on you that you’d prove my theory right and give up…just like she gave up on us.”

Reid straddled the chair he’d been in earlier again, afraid that without its support, he’d collapse from shock. Never in his life had he thought he’d ever have this conversation with his father. Though he’d always suspected the cause of his father’s actions, to hear it directly from him was almost surreal.

Strength seeped into his father’s stocky frame, and with his jaw set and his brown eyes locked onto Reid, his resolve was palpable. “But no matter what I did, you never quit. And I respect the hell out of you for that.”

Reid refused to acknowledge the stinging behind his eyes, but it was much harder to discount the cracking of the ice that had entombed his feelings for his dad for so many years. “Guess I take after my father in that respect.”

His dad swallowed thickly and blinked a few times until the moisture that had momentarily covered his eyes was no longer there. Then he stood and placed his now-wrinkled cap on his head. “Maybe the next time you’re in town, we can go grab a beer or something.”

A social outing with his dad? The mere idea was baffling. When he didn’t answer right away, the man strode toward the door saying, “Or not, whatever. It was just an idea—”