Faking It To Survive
Chapter 13

Rose

As soon as Harris Stephens is declared the winner, the stadium erupts in pandemonium. I don’t hesitate to rush into the ring and shield Ryan until the paramedics reach him.

I’ve felt paralyzing fear before. I’ve felt mindless, feral terror. I’ve felt the kind of fear that makes me single-mindedly focused on pure, raw survival and protecting myself at all costs, but I’ve never felt that fear for someone else.

I just watched Ryan get beaten within an inch of his life, and he didn’t put up much of a fight. The instant he stepped into that ring, the spark that had flashed in his eyes when I’d kissed his cheek was snuffed out. All his self-doubt kicked in, and he couldn’t defend himself.

This defeat is my fault. I knew he was off during training. He couldn’t focus. He mentioned what happened in his last fight, but only once. I didn’t pay enough attention to his mental state. I was too focused on his physical fitness and his fighting ability.

He whispers my name right before he passes out. He tries to smile, but his swollen face won’t cooperate.

That smile breaks me, and his bloody face blurs when my eyes well up with tears. I did this to him. I let him down, and he got hurt. How can I ever make it up to him?

“Not here,” someone says in my ear, and I turn to see Travis next to me. “Suck in those tears and stay strong. You don’t want to wake up to the headlines calling him a coward because you were crying over his unconscious body.”

He’s right. I have to harden up. If I let one tear fall, the press will eat him up. The MMA world is brutal that way.

The paramedics shove me out of the way, load him onto a stretcher, and carry him out of the stadium to a waiting ambulance. I follow at a distance. I can’t get anywhere near Ryan with so many people around.

Trina appears at my side. She looks close to tears, too, but she doesn’t let them fall.

Travis and his assistant try their best to stop the reporters from following us, but I barely notice any of them.

The paramedics load Ryan into the back of the ambulance, and then the driver slams one of the doors closed. I can’t see Ryan anymore.

I don’t know what to do with myself until the driver turns around and asks, “Who’s going with him?”

“You go with him, Rose,” Travis tells me. “Trina and I will follow in my car.”

I don’t hesitate; I jump in and sit down in the single seat near Ryan’s head. The driver slams the other door shut, and then the ambulance pulls away.

I can’t stop looking down at Ryan’s battered face. I take his hand and pray to God that he’ll be okay.

The ride to the hospital takes an eternity, but I don’t let go of his hand for even a second until the vehicle stops. The paramedics wheel him out. Somehow, the reporters got here before us, and they swarm everywhere, firing a million questions at me.

I fume with rage every time they take a step closer to him. I yell at them to make room, but they don’t pay any attention.

One reporter shoves a microphone in my face. “Do you think Ryan’s failure tonight had something to do with being trained by you?” He says you in the most condescending way possible, and I know exactly what he really means.

“Get lost,” I snarl and try to catch up with the nurses who are already wheeling Ryan into the hospital with the help of security.

Someone comes up next to me. I immediately recognize the guy as Harris Stephens’s manager. Something in his expression rubs me the wrong way. What the hell is he doing here?

I try to shove my way through all the reporters, and just before I break past them, Harris’s manager leans forward and whispers in my ear, “It must be frustrating training a wimp a*s like Baker and being with him, too. Come over to my side, and I bet Harris can give you the kind of banging you need, the kind only a strong man can deliver.”

It isn’t his words that make me lose it. I’ve heard worse. No, it’s the gloating, predatory grin that spreads across his face as soon as he finishes his sentence.

Men like him disgust me, and I promised myself a long time ago never to let them see me as a victim or a weakling to be toyed with. This man right here sees me as both.

I turn fast and deliver a solid punch right to his nose. A loud, satisfying crack echoes through the hospital corridor, and he screams in pain. His hands fly to his face, grabbing his broken, bleeding nose.

The reporters all yell at once and crowd around, watching us in shock.

“You bitch!” Rick’s manager roars, but when I take another step nearer to him, he retreats in a hurry.

Someone grabs me from behind. “Come with me,” Travis murmurs, leading me away, with Trina right with us. The reporters stand back and don’t try to follow us.

To my surprise, Travis doesn’t scold me about what I just did. I can’t explain or apologize for the trouble I know it will cause. I can already see the media spinning this into the most perfect and controversial story.

Travis doesn’t say a word, though. He just escorts me deeper into the hospital until we find Ryan. Then we have to sit around in the waiting area outside Ryan’s room. We just have to wait to hear from the doctors that Ryan is all right.

I can’t sit still. I pace back and forth across the waiting room for hours. Trina tries to get me to sit down, but I can’t.

Travis finally decides that she needs rest and insists on taking her home, no matter how much she argues and demands to stay. He eventually gets his way, and they leave me alone.

My fear comes back with a vengeance. Panic takes over. I close my eyes, hold my breath, and count to ten, but it doesn’t make me feel better. Nothing makes me feel better until the doctor comes out of Ryan’s room.

I’m the only one here, so I’m the only one who will find out how Ryan is.

The doctor’s expression gives nothing away.

“Is he going to be okay?” I ask. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear that Ryan isn’t going to be okay.

She smiles and nods. “He’s going to be fine. There are no broken bones, and he isn’t suffering from any internal bleeding or brain injury. He just needs rest. The bruises will heal, and he’ll be back to normal soon.”

I let out a sigh of relief and relax for the first time since the fight started. “Thank you so much.”

“He isn’t completely out of the woods yet,” she goes on. “We need to keep him overnight for observation to make sure there are no signs of head trauma. We won’t know for certain until he wakes up.”

I swallow hard and struggle to control my nerves. Why do doctors always give you hope only to yank it away in the same breath?

“Can I see him?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. It sounds so small and shaky. I hate that, but not as much as I hate that Ryan got hurt because I neglected him.

“Of course,” the doctor replies.

I walk past her and into the room she came out of. He lies on the hospital bed with his eyes closed and an oxygen mask covering his face.

The sight of him so broken and battered is too much for me. I walk up to him slowly until I’m right next to his bed. I can’t take this. I collapse into a chair next to his bed and take his hand.

I already miss his teasing remarks, playful winks, and incessant flirting. I miss his smiles, every single one of them, but especially the genuine ones. I lift his hand to my lips and k**s the back of his knuckles.

That one act breaks down the walls, and the tears I’ve been holding back overflow my ability to stifle them anymore.

“You’re going to be okay, Ryan,” I whisper to him, though he can’t hear me.

I stand up and smooth his hair back. I would never dare to touch him like this if he were awake, but it just feels right now that he’s asleep.

My phone startles me by ringing. I check the screen and see that it’s Travis calling.

“Hey, Rose. How’s our boy doing?” he asks.

I repeat everything the doctor said, and there’s no question that Travis can hear my voice shaking uncontrollably.

“He’s going to be fine, Rose. Ryan is too stubborn to stay down for long. He’ll be out of there in no time.”

I nod, though Travis can’t see me. His kindness twists my heart, and I start crying again.

“I know. I’m sorry I’m such a mess. It’s just that … the last time I was in a hospital, someone I cared about”—I take a stuttering breath—“they didn’t make it.”

I was only ten when I got the call from the hospital that my mother had been in an accident. She passed away before I could get there. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

She must have been in so much pain and with no one there to hold her hand. And just like that, my mother was gone, and my life became a living hell overnight.

Hospitals don’t mean healing or treatment to me. They mean loss, death, and horror. What if the same thing happens to Ryan? What will I do then?

“I’m sorry about that,” Travis tells me, “but I promise you that Ryan is going to be just fine. He’s survived worse. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it back until tomorrow morning. Trina’s having cramps and can’t sleep. I called our obstetrician, and he says she must have stressed herself out at the fight, so I can’t leave her on her own.”

“Of course,” I croak out. “You should stay with her. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Rose. Ryan is lucky to have you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, but luckily for me, I don’t have to say anything. He hangs up.

I go back to sitting by Ryan’s bed, holding his hand and keeping watch.

I fall asleep sometime after midnight and wake up around five a.m., according to the giant wall clock on the wall, my hand still holding Ryan’s.

I stare down into his motionless face. “This is all my fault. I should have known you were having doubts. I should have paid more attention. I wasn’t a good trainer.” I bow my head and clasp his hand in both of mine.

“Really? I think you’re the best trainer I’ve ever had.”

My head snaps up to find his bright blue eyes staring back at me. He’s pulled down his mask so he can grin at me.

“You’re awake!” I gasp.

“I bet you missed me, Bloom.” He winks.

I burst out laughing and throw my arms around him. A flood of relief overwhelms me with such intensity that it can only mean one thing.

The way I feel about Ryan is way more than friendship.