Fighting for Keeps. Jennifer Snow
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door to the couple was tough.
Over the past few months Lindsay had contemplated selling her home and moving closer to the medical clinic. Especially now that there would be a family in the house next door.
Maybe being in a less “family friendly” neighborhood might make her single status easier to live with.
* * *
NOAH PACED THE GYM, listening to the side of the phone conversation he could hear, as his trainer spoke to the New Jersey athletic commissioner. With the number of uh-huh...okay’s and I understand’s from Brandon, it was impossible to determine whether the MMA fight next month in Newark would be sanctioned or not.
He needed this fight.
With his record 6-0 since he’d started fighting the year before, under the guidance of Brandon Sheppard and his brother, who owned the local MMA club, he only needed another knockout to be considered for the UFC—the biggest MMA organization in the world.
Not to mention, he hadn’t had a payday in six weeks, since his last fight in LA, and the money in his bank account was dwindling. His volunteer role at the local fire station had yet to turn into a paid position, which he’d hoped for when he moved to Brookhollow from Beach Haven the year before.
He was starting to wonder if he’d ever achieve his dream of fighting in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.
He tried to push his strained finances from his mind as he waited for the verdict on his upcoming fight.
“Okay, thank you, sir,” Brandon said as he disconnected the call.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Am I fighting next month?” His eyes wide, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, Noah waited.
“Yeah, you’re fighting next month.”
Yes!
He’d watched countless YouTube videos of his opponent’s previous bouts and the Bronx native was nothing he couldn’t handle. He and Brandon had identified holes in Romeo Rodriguez’s ground game as well as a weak right hook. Noah was prepared to dominate the fight by playing into the weak spots.
Brandon opened his desk drawer and pulled out the medical clearance form, giving it to him. “Once you get the results from your MRI, have Dr. McCarthy sign this. You may need additional blood work—she’ll let you know.”
Noah winced. It wasn’t the needle so much as the idea of blood leaving his body that made him woozy. Ironic, given his choice of career.
The only plus side to more tests was having a valid excuse to see Lindsay Harper again. He’d been flirting with her for months and thought he’d made headway with her at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding. But she’d ignored his every attempt to see her since.
“Speaking of the MRI, how many have we sent you for this year?”
Noah shrugged. He’d known this was going to come up at some point. “Three.”
Brandon leaned against the counter, the fabric of his old, ratty Extreme Athletics T-shirt straining at his waist. The coach hadn’t fought in years and had relaxed his own training in recent months. “Look, most guys aren’t fighting so often. After this fight, I need you to take a longer break, okay?”
He couldn’t afford a longer break. He was paying a reasonable monthly rate for the apartment above the gym, but he was already late with this month’s rent. He nodded. “Okay.”
“I mean it. At least three months.”
Three months? That couldn’t happen. “What about the UFC? I thought once I win this fight next month, we were going to try to get me onto the August 22 fight card.”
Twelve weeks away. With a payout for a win in the UFC, he could afford to take a three-month break from fighting, not before.
Brandon hesitated. “I don’t know. Why don’t we try for the October...maybe even the November fight card? It will give you a break, repair some of the torn muscles from overtraining...”
Noah shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m at the top of my game Brandon...I need this August fight, then I promise to take a break.” Unless the UFC wanted him again right away. Then how could he possibly say no?
“Get through this one, okay? Then we’ll talk.” Brandon tapped him on the shoulder as he led the way to the mat to resume their training.
“Okay,” Noah said, knowing with or without his coach’s consent he’d be on the UFC’s August fight card.
The only thing standing in the way of his UFC debut was Romeo Rodriguez.
“WHY ARE THE men bowling in the dark?” Lily Duke asked, sitting across from her in the booth at the pool hall cum bowling alley cum movie theater later that evening.
Lindsay squinted in the dim lighting and turned in her seat. “They’re glow bowling,” she said, suppressing an urge to roll her eyes as the pool hall’s bartender glanced their way. “Heather’s trying to bring a younger crowd to the weekly bowling leagues.”
“Doesn’t she know we are the younger crowd around here?” Lily laughed, sipping her wine.
“I don’t blame her for wanting to liven this place up. It could use some new blood, but I think she’s fighting a losing battle.”
Heather Corbett was a New York City girl who’d come to Brookhollow the year before for Victoria and Luke’s wedding and had stuck around. She’d taken over the bar when Melody Myers had left town to pursue a music career. Heather had redecorated the space as best as she could, adding laminated drink menus to the tables and rearranging the pool tables to create a bigger dance floor. She’d somehow gotten the owner to approve the addition of four big flatscreens, which were now blasting the opening theme song of the UFC’s pay-per-view.
That, too, was a new addition to the pool hall’s offerings. Lindsay shuddered. “I didn’t realize the fights were this weekend.” It had been bad enough when sports were showed continuously on the big screens.
Lily glanced toward the flatscreen as highlights from previous fights flashed, her face clouding.
“You okay? We don’t have to stay...” Lindsay reached for her coat, but Lily waved a hand.
“No, it’s fine.” She released a deep breath. “Men hitting each other doesn’t really bother me...it was one particular guy beating me half to death that I objected to.” She tugged on her sleeve to cover the long scars Lindsay knew were on her forearms.
Her stomach turned. She remembered all too well how badly hurt Lily had been when she’d arrived in Brookhollow.
Her car had run out of gas outside of town and Bailey had brought her to the medical center after picking her up in the tow truck. Frightened and frantic, Lily’d fought against receiving medical care, despite swollen black eyes, a busted lip and gashes on her right side from a knife attack. Damage caused by the husband she’d been fleeing.
One who was now thankfully in jail in Newark.
“You’re safe now,” she said, repeating what she’d repeated over and over to the scared woman while the doctors at the clinic had treated her wounds.
Lily nodded. “If you had told me a year ago I’d be free of him and living here with my own clothing store and amazing new friends, I never would have believed it.”
“Well, believe it.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re all so happy you decided to stay.”
Especially her. Her reputation in town as being a gossip and a busybody was one she didn’t refute, but it made making real friends difficult—it always had. Lily didn’t seem to mind,