She nods. “Every now and then, Killian wrestles with whether to return to the octagon. He’s a fighter at heart, and a fighter’s mentality is hard to change. But then he’ll catch a match like this one, or run into a former fighter with permanent injuries. Those moments remind him that he wants more for him and us.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m glad Killian walked away before he was permanently injured. But Sofia, Finn’s not there yet. It’ll be years before he even thinks about retiring. All he talks about is his next fight, or the one after that, or how the belt is going to feel when he raises it over his head. He loves what he does. That fighter mentality you mentioned? He’s has it, and he’s not letting go.” I sigh. “I don’t want him hurt. But knowing how much MMA means to him, I want to be there to support him.”
“So be there,” she says. “Just be prepared for him to get hurt.” She bows her head. “Not that it helped me.”
“I hear you,” Wren agrees. “Sometimes, it’s all I can do not to look away.”
Wren was quiet during our conversation. If you knew anything about Wren it speaks volumes. But she’s listening, and she cares. “I’m sure,” I say, acknowledging her worry. “I mean, you love him, too.”
She grins, her smile reminding me of Finn’s. “You sayin’ you love my brother?”
I tilt my head. My voice is soft, but I mean what I say. “I really do.”
My words and tone give her pause and dull her smile, but not in a bad way. “Good,” she says. “I think you’re what he needs.”
It’s not the first time one of his siblings has told me that. From what I’ve gathered from the recent family functions we’ve attended, Finn’s drinking had been out of control and he was advised to stop. He still drinks when we go out, a couple beers or so, but he’s never been out of hand around me. It’s likely because we’re making up for that high with the ridiculous amount of sex we’ve been having.
I’m not complaining. Sex with Finn is so personal. I’ve never experienced the amount of intimacy I feel with anyone else but him. I think, or at least hope, he feels it, too. The way we talk afterward, and the way we hold onto each other, it’s like we’re afraid to let go.
My attention drifts back to where he’s warming up, seemingly unaffected by the chaos unleashing in the octagon as the next fight commences. I can’t say I’m exactly what Finn needs, nor that I’m the person who has helped him get better. His intense counseling sessions have played a big role. That much he’s shared. Yet we both realize he has a long way to go.
Just last week when we went out, some idiot hit on me and refused to back off. I thought Finn was going to break him in half and kick the leftovers aside. I’ve honestly never seen him so angry. Thankfully his brothers were there to haul him back, giving me time to calm him and convince him to walk away. Not that he was happy about it.
“I don’t want anyone touching you,” he told me. “I mean it, Sol. No one’s going to hurt you, especially around me.”
I recognize where his protectiveness stems from, as well as his rage. That doesn’t make it any easier to witness.
That rage is so pronounced, I can sense it behind his smiles and soft touches, and I’m not alone. To avoid trouble, Killian arranged for all the fighters training with him and Finn to have a separate changing area. Finn lost his mind on another opponent and his trainer following his last match. Killian was worried what Finn might do if someone was looking for trouble, but also what his fighters might do as well.
Finn is well-liked by a lot of the other professional fighters, especially the ones who’ve trained alongside him, and who’ve followed his career. They’re just as capable of starting fights in defense of Finn. And an all-out brawl between MMA fighters is the last thing anyone wants backstage.
“Do you think you might pass out?” Wren asks me as I continue to take in Finn.
I consider her comment. Finn is so . . . mine. I shake my head. “I’m more worried I might climb into the cage and jump on his opponent’s back.”
“No, shit,” Wren says, sounding impressed. “Hey. Been there too many times.”
“I’m going to advise you against that one,” Sofia says, laughing softly. Her humor vanishes when she glances up at the screen.
Once more the crowd in the arena is losing their minds, the commentators yelling to be heard. “Oh!” Finn’s brothers yell at once.
A super heavyweight fighter who Killian faced years ago, is lying motionless on the mat, his jaw dangling off to the side. I rise slowly with Wren, clutching my heart.
“He broke his jaw,” Angus says. Out of all the things that occurred in tonight’s bloodbath, this is the one he can’t seem to watch. He abruptly turns from the screen and marches to the opposite side of the training area, tossing the donut in his hand in the trash.
Everyone is silent. Dead silent. But I can’t blame them. I’ve seen my share of fights and you can consider me a fan even long before I started dating Finn. But I’ve never seen back to back matches end like this.