"I think he won," Abby says, as we wait for the judges' decisions.

  "Maybe, but I'm thinking not. The other dude got more punches in."

  When the ref stands in the middle of the ring, he does not raise Diego's hand. Diego says a slew of curse words and jumps out of the ring, his team following behind.

  "That sucks," Abby says. "Are you going to even say hi? He doesn't know you were scoping him out, right?"

  "I'm going to do more than say hi. I'm going to talk to him. I still think we should sign him."

  "But he lost," she says, as I stand and reach my hand out to her.

  "Yeah. But he can be great with the proper coaching and if he keeps his temper in check. Let's go find him."

  We head down the steps and around a walkway to the locker room. There's only one security guy because, again, this is just a small, local bout, and he let us through without any hassle.

  I really don't want Abby in the men's locker room, but I can't just leave her alone in the hallway. "One sec," I tell her, before opening the locker room door to see who's inside and if there are any naked males.

  There are. Two guys are changing.

  "Yo, Diego," I holler by the door. He turns his pissed-off head my way.

  "Who's asking?"

  "Need a word with you in private," I say. He is hesitant, but his coach says something to him, and Diego comes out into the hall.

  "Sorry for making you come outside, man. Didn't want my girl in the locker room." I extend my hand. "My name's Iggy. I'm with Worth the Fight. Tony Marino"—a huge name in MMA, which is why I throw it out—"sent me. Just watched your fight."

  "Fuck," he curses. "Not my best."

  "It wasn't bad. Coulda been better, had you been focused."

  The guy starts to argue with me but then makes the right decision and shuts up. "Slade and Tony'll be in Tarpon Springs next week and we'd like to sit and talk with you about joining our team."

  "Really," he says with a big smile. "Shit, man. That'd be awesome."

  "All right, cool. Here's my card. Send me your info and I'll set it up. Meanwhile, I need you to stay out of trouble. I’ma tell them what I saw and we're going to work out some numbers, but if you fuck up outside the ring, they won't be real inclined to sign you. You get me?"

  "I get you."

  "All right, ice that shoulder. Stay outta trouble." I shake his hand again, before grabbing Abby's hand and walking out.

  "That was fast," she says as we walk back to the car.

  "Yep. Hopefully he'll listen. Tony was a troublemaker but he's changed."

  "And you? Were you a trouble maker?"

  "Nah, babe. I've always been a homebody."

  "Homebody?" she laughs. "You have a hundred jobs. When are you a homebody?"

  "I like to work out and it just so happens my workout place is one I have some financial interest in. Truthfully, I'm supposed to be a silent investor but sometimes I'm bored and go hang out at the club or at the Academy. But really, you can say I'm unemployed. Or rather, on a per-contract basis."

  "You’re the hardest working unemployed person I've met."

  "Nah. I really don't do much unless I get an itch to do something and then I'll call ICS and book a job."

  "Are you saying you're lonely?" she asks with a cute, surprised face.

  "No," I laugh. "Not lonely. Bored."

  "Ahhh, my Iggy's lonely," she teases me, and I roll my eyes.

  I open the car door for her, then go around and jump in myself. "Truth?"

  "Of course."

  "You know I have a hard time standing still. I need shit to do. Always been like that. After I left you"—I say this slowly and carefully because I hate saying those words—"it got worse and then when I had the amputation, it got really worse. My friends say I'm an adrenaline junkie."

  "Or maybe you're just trying to prove that you can still do all the things you did before you lost your leg."

  I turn to her. "Or maybe I was trying to stay busy so I wouldn't think of you every goddamn minute of the day.” That is God's honest truth.

  “Oh, Iggy…"

  "So, that's what I've been doing. And you probably should know: I cancelled my trips indefinitely. For the first time in a long time, I'm cool with being still. I don't need to find things to do."

  "I'm glad, Iggy. Real glad."

  "Me too, baby. Me too."

  "Let's go get the kids."

  "I'm on it," I say, rushing to her in-laws to pick up Oscar and Lily, who I miss more than I care to admit.

  The kids are sound asleep by the time we get back home. It’s way past their bedtime, and they were exhausted. “Stay in the car,” I tell Abby as I park.

  I get out and do a quick sweep of the house. Everything looks the way it should. Nothing unusual. During dinner, however, I got a text from Jack with a photo of Montana. I need to show it to Abby so we can confirm it’s the same guy.

  I give Abby the thumbs up, and she exits the car. “Oscar, honey, we’re here.” She wakes him, and he sleepily shuffles out and into the house. I carry Lily out in my arms, and she snuggles into me and sighs contently. My heart melts.

  “Bud, lock the door, please,” I instruct Oscar. “And set the alarm. Remember how I taught you?”

  “Yeah,” he replies sleepily. I’ll check it after I put Lily to bed, but I want Oscar to feel empowered to care for his mom and Lily.

  I lay Lily in bed, and Abby tucks her in. She’s half-asleep, but still she puts her arms out. Abby hugs her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, sweets. I love you.”

  “Love you, Mommy,” she murmurs.

  Then she whispers my name and holds her arms out to me too. “Good night, princess,” I say, hugging her and kissing her forehead.

  “Night, Iggy. Love you.” Then she turns to her side and is completely asleep in seconds.

  I freeze. Love you.

  Those words do something to my chest. Abby isn’t in the room anymore, and I don’t know whether she heard or not.

  I hear the shower from her room, so I take the opportunity to check the locks and the alarm. Afterwards I take a quick shower in the bathroom downstairs, then lie down on the couch, my prosthetic on the floor right next to me, just in case I have to quickly put it on.

  After some time, I hear the sound of her feet padding down the stairs. I can smell her vanilla lotion as she approaches. She's been different since we returned from her in-laws' and I know it has to do with the conversation she had with her mother-in-law in the bathroom. It's been days now and I don't know whether to ask her or let it go. I decide to dig a little. “Are you okay?" I ask and shed just shrugs. There's some silence for a moment and then she lied completely flat on top of me, her chin on my chest.

  "I’m sorry for my little meltdown at the restaurant,” she says. My Abby is still an open book and with just the smallest amount of prodding, she opens up.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. That must’ve been hard.”

  “Yes and no,” she admits.

  “You used to tell me everything, remember?”

  “Of course. You were my best friend. But this is somethings I can’t tell you.”

  “Try me.”

  She exhales and turns her face so that her cheek is on my chest. I run my fingers through her hair. “You paying for our dinner was hard. You being so awesome with the kids. Being protective of us. Just…acting like you’re part of the family. All of that was hard. It was Aiden’s role for a long time and then it was my role, and now I’m letting go and letting you in and…” She turns her head back to me. “And I like it," she admits. “I like it too much.”

  “And that scares you?”

  “Of course it scares me.”

  I shift my body, gently placing her onto the couch, then I move off the sofa and hop, with my one leg, to the television cabinet, using it to balance myself. I open the small doors where she has a bunch of board games.

  “You want to play a game?” she asks, confused. I ignore her, looking through all the games until I find the one I’m searching for. I pull it, open it, and take out what I’m looking for.

  I hop back to the couch, and she moves over so I can sit next to her. I open my hand to show her what I’m holding.

  “Time machine.”

  18

  IGGY

  “Oh, Iggy,” she whispers, her hand over her heart.

  “If you can go back in time, where would you go?”

  She thinks long and hard, then presses the plastic red button.

  “Where are you, babe?” I ask.

  “I’m at the restaurant three hours ago and I’m enjoying dinner.”

  My heart is beating fast. “You can tell me the truth. You had a life while I was gone. You were happily married. You can be honest. If you had a time machine you wouldn’t go back to three hours ago.”

  “You think I would go back to when Aiden was alive?” Before I can answer she continues, “I loved Aiden with all my heart. He gave me two wonderful children but there was a time I loved you with all my heart. If I’m going back to a time where I wasn’t in pain, why would I stop at Aiden? Maybe I’d go back further. Maybe I’d go back to you and me at prom. Or when we snuck out and went to the old Mills’s dock and sat under the stars all night, talking about the future. I was happy with Aiden but I would have been happy with you, Iggy. So, I’m not going back. I can’t. It happened and I can’t undo those things. All I can do is move forward. We have a second chance. I didn’t think I’d have a second chance at anything after Aiden died. I don’t want a time machine. I want something to look forward to.”

  She kisses me softly, then stands up. She tosses the button on the sofa and holds her hand out to me. I take it, but I also grab my cane, which I have nearby, and get up. I limp up the steps and to her room, locking the door behind us.

  She lifts her arms, and I peel the shirt off her body. She unbuttons her jeans and takes them off, tossing them to the side.

  She pushes me down on the bed and straddles me. “I bet your leg aches.”

  “Why are we talking ’bout my leg when your wet pussy is an inch away from my cock?”

  “Because I want to ride you.”

  Fuck. My hard cock just got harder.

  “Babe, you don’t have to use my leg as an excuse to ride me. I’ll fuck you with or without my prosthetic and regardless of whether my leg aches or not. Nothing feels better to me than your cunt wrapped around my dick. But, if you want to fuck me, just say so—you don’t need to give me a reason.”

  “Fine, I want to fuck you,” she whispers, leaning down and sucking my nipple into her mouth.

  “Then by all means, ride me, baby.”

  She sits back up, her palm on my chest. I grab my cock firmly so that she can slide down. “Jesus,” I moan, and she covers my mouth with her hand.

  “You said I was loud? Hush.”

  “Sorry. Sorry.”

  She moves her hips in a circle as she moves up and then down. Up and down. She was never shy around me. Even as inexperienced as we were back then, sex with Abby was always great. I think it was the love we shared and the uninhibitedness of our relationship. That has not changed. She cups her own tits as she starts picking up the pace.

  “I’m coming, Iggy,” she whispers, and her eyes close as she focuses on making herself come, losing all rhythm, her thighs shaking from the exertion. When she’s done, I flip her onto her back and move in her, hard and fast, one hand grabbing the headboard for support and the other one cupping her breast.

  “Fuck…” I shudder as I come deep inside her.

  We’re lying in bed, my dick still inside of her, her limbs encircling my body, and we’re both breathless.

  “I missed us,” she says.

  “I missed us, too. I don’t know if I can stop fucking you, Abby. You’re my drug of choice. Always have been.”

  “Then let’s not stop.”

  “I never want to.” I turn to her and caress her face tenderly. “Abby…I should have told you twenty years ago, that first moment that I saw you sitting on the bleachers, that I loved you.”

  “Don’t…”

  He takes my chin in his hand and pushes it up so I can see his eyes. “Let me talk. I loved you back then. I loved you every waking minute of the last twenty years. I love you now. And when we’re old and senile and can’t remember anything, I’ll still remember how much I love you.”

  “Iggy…” I whisper.

  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. But I can’t tell you how it feels to finally hear you say the words. I’ve been waiting my whole life for them.” I kiss his face—nose, eyes, cheeks, forehead. “I love you too, Iggy.”

  “I will never stop wanting to hear you say those words.”

  * * *

  IGGY

  It’s Sunday, and the kids wanted to go visit Claire and Tim who were more than happy to have them come over. After we drop them off, I decide to bring her to WtF Academy to show her some self-defense moves. But before we do anything, I need to talk to her.

  When we get to the Academy, I stop her before she gets out. “I need to show you something. I didn’t want to do it in front of the kids just in case it upset you.” I take out my phone.

  “Well, now you’re scaring me. What’s up, Iggy?”

  “Jack sent me a photo of Montana Morgan. He’s the prime suspect in your case and they’ve been looking for him for several weeks. He recently showed up in a club downtown. They got a photo of him. It’s grainy but it might be enough for you to identify him.”

  I turn the phone around, and she grabs it from my hand. “Yes!” she yelps without hesitation. “That’s him!”

  “Babe, look at it more carefully.”

  “I don’t need to. That’s him. I am absolutely sure.”

  “Okay, then, if you’re sure.” I take my phone back and text Jack a confirmation. “Now we know who it is, this is good. One step closer.”

  “Yeah, so they can just arrest him now. Thank God.”

  “Not that easy. They need to find him first. He’s been in hiding. He just happened to show up at the club and that photo was taken by a confidential informant who saw him. At least now that we know it’s him, the cops can focus all their efforts into finding him. You need to be extra vigilant now.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m serious, babe. These guys have ears everywhere. When they get word that we know who it is, he’s either going to disappear or try to get the one person who can identify him out of the way.” Bile rises up in my esophagus as I say that, and she shivers.

  “I’m sorry. I know that scares you but I need you to know what’s going on so I can protect you.”

  “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  “Good. Now, are you ready to kick some ass?

  “Always!”

  * * *

  ABBY

  “I don’t know how I feel about this!” I admit as Iggy finishes wrapping some cloth thing around my hand. We are at WtF Academy, which I now know stands for Worth the Fight and not What the Fuck. I have been driving past this place for years and had no idea it was an enormous MMA academy.

  “Tell me again, why aren’t you the one showing me?” I ask Iggy. He had just introduced me to a man named Travis, who is about to show me some moves.

  “I don’t think you’ll take it seriously enough. Plus, I’m not a good teacher. I am, however, a great sparring partner.”

  “Sparring? As in, I can hit you?” I wink, cheekily.

  “You can certainly try, babe.”

  Travis, who is taller than Iggy and has a sexy Southern drawl, grins. He is so damn f-i-n-e, it’s hard to concentrate.

  “This is just some basic self-defense, darlin’,” he says. “The goal is to know the critical areas where you can do enough damage to be able to run away if necessary.”

  “Run away?” I exclaim, jumping up and down excitedly as if I’m Rocky Balboa about to get into a ring with my opponent. “I’m ready to kick some ass.”

  “Relax, babe,” Iggy chuckles. “You’re a little too excited about this.”

  For the next hour, Travis teaches me a few techniques, which I think I’ve sort of mastered. At least I know some of the weak spots. I may not kick someone’s ass, but I can at least inflict enough temporary pain to run away.

  “Why don’t we take a water break,” he suggests. “And then you can practice what I’ve taught you on Iggy.”

  I’m sitting on the floor of the ring drinking water, waiting for Iggy to get ready. “Do you feel like you can defend yourself if something were to happen?” Iggy asks.

  “Not if the person is Travis. He is fast.”

  Iggy chuckles. “Yeah. That’s his thing. You can’t catch him. Get up and try what you learned on me.” I exhale, put my water down and stand up.

  He’s standing in front of me, his arms by his side. Not at all worried that I’ll punch him in the face.

  “Baby…hit me.” I try, but he sidesteps me. “Come on!”

  I swing, but he moves away quickly, somehow ending up behind me. “Don’t be a pussy,” he growls by my ear. “Hit me.”

  The jerk is fast. Maybe faster than Travis. Or maybe I’m just slow.

  “I’m. Not. A. Pussy!” I try to hit him again and almost tumble forward with the momentum.

  “Okay, stop,” Travis yells from the other side of the ropes. “Remember you’re not in a boxing match, Abby. What are the areas you need to target?”

  I take a deep breath and regroup. Then I get back in position. “Nose or eyes,” I answer, aiming for Iggy’s face, but he shifts quickly and I miss. Now I’m getting mad. “Throat.” My hand isn’t in a complete fist, so I sort of touch-slap him. At least there was contact.

  “Not hard enough. You tapped me just enough to piss me off. Come on.”

  I try again, but I lose my footing and fall backward instead. Travis chuckles and yells into the ring, “That was a good try. At least now you look determined.” I am determined. But now I’m not sure what to do. The next target areas are his lower extremities.

 

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