I chuckle, surprised she doesn’t know me better by now. “Never turn down a challenge.”
“What did Mason mean—?” She smacks her hands on her thighs. “Would you stop looking like someone farted in your face every time I say his name?”
I roll my lower lip into my mouth to keep from smiling. “Go on.”
“It got me to thinking. You know you’ve never really talked much about your career.”
“Talking now.”
“Why do you need medical approval?”
“It’s mandatory. All fighters have to pass a basic physical.” The lie tastes sour on my tongue. “I haven’t fought in a while. They just want to make sure I’m healthy enough.” Lie, lie, lie.
“What about the brain-damage stuff?”
Damn. I take a deep breath. “It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s a non-answer.”
This isn’t a conversation I’m ready to have, but what she’s probably thinking is worse than the truth. “Back when I fought for the UFL, I got a chipped tooth. Pretty common, didn’t think much of it. I went to have it taken care of and moved on. A few months later I started getting headaches, fevers, just didn’t feel right. Blew it off, thinking it was a bug. I remember being so damn tired, and then it was like I couldn’t communicate. Someone would ask me something. I’d answer them, but the words would come out all fucked up.”
Her hand goes to her chest. “That had to be scary.”
“I thought it was fatigue.”
“So what was it?”
“One night I woke up, and my body was flopping around in the bed. I remember thinking I was having a seizure, but I couldn’t speak or stop the movements. Like being prisoner in your own skin.”
“Oh my God.”
“D’lilah called 911. An ambulance ride, MRI, and a biopsy later determined I had an infection in my brain. They had to go in and remove the damaged brain tissue. Didn’t know what part of the brain was fucked up, so they couldn’t predict how I’d come out.”
“How did you come out?”
“I had to relearn how to speak, walk, write. Luckily the brain compensates, and it didn’t do anything too permanent, but I was in rehab for a long time before I could even consider going back to work.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“UFL didn’t need the liability. They had concerns about what a concussion would do to my already fucked-up head. They let me go.”
“So this infection that you had no control over ended up robbing you of your fighting career?”
And my daughter. “Basically.”
“How were you not angry?”
“Oh, I was.” The memory of the rage I felt after losing my career and my daughter in the same day makes my hands shake. “But that anger lit a fire under my ass. I swore I’d make it back into the octagon no matter what it took.”
Her head swivels from side to side. “That’s why you took Gibbs’s job.”
“Yes. This puts me a lot closer to the cage than promoting ever did.”
“Smart. Stupid, but smart.” She chews on her bottom lip. “Wait, if you’re rehabilitated, why won’t the board just let you fight?”
“I still struggle with certain things. Memory, impulsiveness, shit like that. They’re also worried if I fight I’ll damage my brain further.”
“Is it life threatening?”
“Afraid that’s part of the unknown, doll.”
“Oh.” She looks down her hands balled in her lap. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Probably not. Not a fan of exposing my weaknesses.”
“Not that. About Faulkner.”
“I haven’t even talked to Ryder about the fight yet. Then I’ll have to tell D’lilah.” And with our history, she’ll be all over my ass. And now Eve, who I’m sure will give me her opinion on the matter whether I want to hear it or not.
I rub my eyes, so damn tired and envious of my early years with the UFL when I never had to answer to anyone. Every decision I made was based on what was best for my career. Nothing else. But look where that got me.
“Yeah.” She turns a sad smile to me. “I understand. They’re your family. They should know first.”
“Babe . . .” I don’t know what to say, but I hate the way she’s slumped in on herself, head tucked and hiding behind her hair.
An angry Eve is fun, but a hurt Eve is torture. Her dad did damage of which I’ve only managed to scratch the surface. I’ve seen the devastation flash in her eyes, and I don’t want to be the reason for that look.
“Inside, doll.” I pull her hand to my lips. “Need to get those clothes off you and put you in my bed.”
Her eyes flare and a tiny smile ticks her lips. I push back my victorious grin. I’ve never in my life been with a woman so sidetracked by sex. It’s the one thing I’ve learned that she’ll drop anything for.
My mouth all over a naked Eve is the best way to put an end to this conversation. I wonder how many orgasms it’ll take for Eve to forget our talk altogether. Sex-induced amnesia? It’s a cheap shot, but I’m excited about the challenge.
Twenty-Five