Uncaged Love: Volume 6 (Uncaged Love #6) (11 page)

“I’m so glad my Jo is happy today,” he says. “It’s a happy happy day.”

I have to agree. He turns to look out the window at the view I was admiring. “I don’t think anything could be more perfect than this,” he says.

“Maybe not covering my face with paint?” I venture.

He waves my words away. “You’ll be a glorious rose.” He claps his hands. “Now scoot on into that bath before it gets cold. Chop, chop.”

I head into the bathroom. I’m going to have a good day. I can feel it.

* * *

Zandalee has outdone herself. The pavilion is covered with flowers and ribbons. You can’t even see any of the structure. The benches and picnic tables have all been moved aside, and white chairs are arranged in rows. On the beach side, an open-sided white tent extends the covered area. The officiant waits there in a gold sundress, her hair tied up and decorated with flowers.

Zero sits next to me in the back of a white limo, along with my mother and Tutu. All three of them are wearing pale gold dresses. Tutu’s has a lovely handwoven shawl draped around her shoulders. Mom’s has thin straps that accentuate her long lean neck. Her hair is up high with white flowers across the top.

Zero’s dress is more dramatic, bold with a slanted neckline and long swishing skirt. He’s gone blond, and gold flowers sweep the wig up and chase the long fall down his back. He looks beautiful, his skin deepened by the sun he’s gotten since he arrived, like an island goddess.

“You totally outshine me,” I tell him.

“Oh, no,” he says, straightening the hem of my white dress, one that mimics the style of Audrey Hepburn’s ’50s gown. It is fitted until the waist, where it bursts into a wide expanse of fabric and lace that ends just below the knee. “Nobody holds a candle to you.”

He reaches to twist the tendrils of hair that frame my face, arranging them one last time. The rest of my hair is swept into a chaotic arrangement of brown curls. We added a bit of red back to my hair, just like that first week I knew Colt. A half-dozen petite white flowers are pinned among the swirls.

“Scoot forward a little,” I tell the driver. I can’t see everything, and I want to take it in now, before the nerves hit.

He rolls a few feet, and now I spot the musicians playing off to one side. It’s a string quartet. I lower the window just enough that their soft music makes it inside.

“It’s gorgeous,” Zero says. “Just perfect.”

My mom nods, dabbing the corner of her eyes with a linen handkerchief.

Tutu reaches across the car and takes my hand. “I would love for you to carry this,” she says, pressing a string of beads into my palm. “I wore it at my wedding, and my mother before her.”

I examine the necklace. White freshwater pearls are mixed with tiny shell beads. It’s delicate and beautiful, just right for a beach wedding. “Of course,” I say.

I turn around. “Put it on me,” I tell Zero. “I can wear both things.”

He takes the strand and fastens it around my neck. It falls just below the frog necklace that belonged to my other grandmother. “See?” I say. “They fit together just fine.”

Tutu nods her approval.

The guests start to take their seats. It’s mostly my family, the cousins, aunts, and uncles I have just gotten to know. There are a few business associates of The Cure’s, the ones Eve allowed to come. And Angel, Zero’s boyfriend. And Parker and Maddie with their daughter Lily. Even Brittany has made it out with yet another boyfriend. She can’t seem to stick with anyone for long.

Another limo pulls up behind us. It’s blue and flashy, not the one Colt left in.

“Who’s that?” Zero asks, turning to peer out the back window. Then he lets out a very girly squeal.

Dylan Wolf steps out of the car, turning to help his wife Jessie. Her baby bump is really starting to pop in a pale blue sheath dress.

“Those shoes are to die for,” Zero says. “Did you know she always wears blue shoes to public appearances? There are entire websites dedicated to all the styles. They have their own fan club.”

“Cute,” I say.

“Please tell me he’s going to sing,” Zero says. “I will die if he doesn’t sing.”

“Yes, I think he’s going to sing,” I tell him. “We just didn’t know until yesterday if he was going to make it. His schedule is crazy.”

Zero follows his every step.

I look back at the pavilion. Almost everyone is seated. A murmur goes up when they spot Dylan. He sits near the rear, kicked back, his arms draped over the adjoining chairs. One of my teen girl cousins looks like she’s going to faint when he nods at her.

Zero elbows me. “There he is,” he says.

I assume he’s talking about Angel, but then I see the movement at the tent. Colt walks up and shakes hands with the officiant. He looks incredible in a traditional black tux with all-white accessories. He waves at a few people.

Hudson falls in behind him as best man. I smile at this. Of all the choices Colt had, famous singers, champion fighters, he chose my brother to stand up with him.

I glance down at my hands. They are still battered, despite Zero’s heroic efforts to heal and soften them before the wedding. But it’s okay. They are who I am.

The musicians pause, then start again, this time with the Hawaiian wedding song.

“That’s our cue,” Zero says.

He opens the door to the limo. The guests all stand up and turn. I take a deep breath. I have no question about what I’m doing with Colt. But the ceremony? The spectacle? It’s not comfortable to me.

We hear the beating sound of a helicopter overhead and The Cure steps away from the pavilion, furiously tapping into a phone. I have to laugh. So much for him having control over the pictures.

Zero turns to help Mom out of the limo, then Tutu. My grandfather appears to escort Tutu up the aisle.

Zero ducks his head back in. “You ready, Jo Jo?”

I nod. He holds out his hand in a white glove. I take it and step out of the car. The sun is bright, and I blink to adjust.

Overhead, the helicopter abruptly peels away. The Cure steps back next to Eve. Apparently, he did it. He got his way again.

Zero fluffs out my skirt and squeezes my arm. Then he takes a bouquet from Zandalee. When he passes to make his way up the aisle, she hands another bouquet to me.

“You look beautiful,” she whispers, and heads to the seats.

My mom takes my arm. I thought it would be a hard decision to have her escort me up the aisle. But after a month here, and seeing her calmness, her careful strength, I knew she was a role model for me after all. The things I once thought to be her problems, her weaknesses, were simply what I needed to understand about myself. She showed me that I did not have to be controlled by the emotions that possessed me, the hurricane that seemed to storm through me at will. That I could lead the life I wanted. Make decisions with my heart, not reactions with my fists.

We step along the flower-sprinkled aisle. My dress rustles and flows around my knees. Colt watches me, unable to stop smiling, and so I’m smiling too. I never dreamed I’d get here. Never thought I’d find a love for me. But I did. And a family. And a life most people only watch from a distance.

I will not be afraid. I will hold on to all these good things with both hands. And when necessary, I will fight for them.

Epilogue

I’m going to lose.

The ref watches the countdown clock. Twenty seconds until round three begins. Zero comes up behind me and fixes my braid so my hair doesn’t hang in my face. Colt sits in the front row, his hands laced tight, his chin resting in them.

I’m letting them all down.

Killjoy spreads gel on a cut on my arm so it won’t bleed. I look across the cage at Zoom Girl. She’s riled, yelling, getting the crowd behind her.

I need to think. What is getting me? And why? Zoom has a standard fight set. Average kicks. Typical punch style. But she’s pummeling me. It’s like I can’t predict her hits.

I rub my glove across my face, frowning when I feel the pain of a bruise she’s given me.

And I realize I shouldn’t be feeling it. My adrenaline is too low. I’m not in fight mode. I can’t zone in. I’m thinking too much. Trying too hard.

The clock dings and the trainers dash out of the cage. I step toward the center. Zoom bounces, riling the spectators. I tune out their roar.

Now my world is silent. I can hear my heartbeat, the sound of my own breath. The pain drops away.

Focus. Determination.

Zoom is fast, or thinks she is, that’s why she’s named herself that.

I watch her feet, slide-stepping across the cage floor. Then her hands, held up near her chin. She jumps in for a jab, but I see this one, and I feint right, away from it.

Her weight shifts, and I start to figure her out. She’s setting up a kick. I lunge into it, grabbing her leg before the apex of the swing, and take her down.

We hit the floor together, no-slip powder flying from our gloves like a kickup of dust.

Her head hits first, and the world is slow motion. She can’t zoom on the floor. I’m stronger than her, stronger than most anybody in my weight class. I’ve been stringy and all-muscle since my teens. It’s my edge.

Her legs flail wildly, but I spin her in the pin, facedown, arm back. I don’t need the hurricane. I just need to understand her, understand myself. Focus. Determination. Unlock the puzzle of her game.

Zoom struggles. She bangs her head against the cushioned cage floor as she fights me.

Then she taps out. Submission.

The ref pulls me off.
 

I stumble for a second, struggling to reconnect with the outside world, the noises and sights beyond the cage.

I spot Zero first, jumping and screaming in his shiny blue ring-girl outfit. He finally convinced me to let him do it.

Then I see Colt, pushing through the screaming fans, making his way to the stairs of the cage. The trainers rush back in. Killjoy grabs my wrist and lifts it up. Zoom slowly gets to her feet.

Colt makes it into the cage and snatches me up. “You did it!” he says. “You’re back in the game!”

He arranged this comeback match for me. It’s been huge. The publicity the best it could be. Tons of fans. The whole thing. I could make official UFC if I wanted, if I gained some weight to make the class. I just had to issue a challenge.

But as he spins me around, I’m not sure that’s what I want.

Colt sets me down and kisses me. The crowd goes crazy again. He moves close to my ear. “Now I can retire and be your towel boy,” he says.

I look up into his eyes, those brown-green hazel eyes, and I know that I don’t have anything to prove. It’s like he said. I’m just Jo. Not a movement or a cause. Just a girl who loves a boy.

I picture my mother, panicked at her reaction to her crying baby, setting her in the plastic crib at the hospital and running, taking off for her life, for the safety of her child.

And I know that’s not me.

It never was.

I shake my head. Colt grips my hands. The crowd is still going crazy. “What?” he asks. “Are you okay?” He runs his hand across my forehead.

“A family,” I tell him.

He leans in. “What?”

“A family!” I call out. “I want a family.”

He grips my arms and stares at me. “Are you sure?”

I nod at him. He picks me up again, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He spins me in circles, again and again, until the world is gone again, the crowd and the noise.

I’m pressed tight to him, my cheek against his shoulder. He slows down finally, and kisses my hair. “I guess I have to keep working, then,” he says. “If I’m going to have more mouths to feed.”

I lower my legs to stand next to him. The ref insists on grabbing my hand and lifting it up to signal the win. This make me laugh. It seems so unimportant now.

I’ve done what was asked of me.

Now I’m going to have what I’ve always wanted.

A family of my own.

~*´
♥
`*~

Thank you for reading! Everybody loves a happy ending!

I do have another series in this MMA fighter world, about Parker “Power Play,” the love who left him, and their four-year-old little girl who just wants her daddy.

It is called FIGHT FOR HER!
Go see it
!

Fight for Her
by JJ Knight

If you would like to see everything Deanna writes, here are links to her pen names on Amazon:

JJ Knight

(serialized contemporary romance)

Annie Winters

(serialized romantic suspense — slightly hotter on the scale)

Deanna Roy

(full-length new adult and contemporary romance)