Page 10 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter (She’s Worth the Trouble #3)

CATHERINE

Everything has led to this moment.

All the training, the drama, and the quiet moments we’ve shared.

He’s put himself through hell, faced down everything my father could throw at him, put my brother on the mat, and swept me away all at once. It’s hard to imagine my life a short seven weeks ago… the absence of him.

No matter what happens, I smile knowing we’ll never go back to before we met.

We’ve been in Vegas for three days.

Weigh-ins. Last-minute training sessions reviewing Ruiz’s fights, scrutinizing Louis’s technique. Making sure he’s rested and fueled.

As always, I can’t spot a speck of fear on his face.

He moves through this weird world of boxing with a calmness I can’t reflect. At the face-off, he doesn’t show a hint of nervousness when he poses with Ruiz.

I’m terrified . Every night, I make love to him like it’ll be the last time. I ride him in our hotel room, doing all the work, holding him down so he doesn’t take over and strain himself.

Last night, I slapped his hand away.

“Not-uh. Not tonight,” I said. “You’ll fight better if you’re… coiled up.”

“That’s so not fair.”

“Don’t worry. Win or lose, I’m going to rock your world when it’s over.”

I traced the scar on his arm, trying to imagine what that pain must have felt like.

MGM Grand Garden Arena—the big show.

Even with the main event a couple of hours away, the stadium is full. We can hear the crowd from the locker room as I tape Louis’s hands and apply petroleum jelly to his face. He takes deep breaths, staring at me as I work.

“What are you looking at?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

He shrugs. “Everything.”

My dad looks more nervous than Louis. He paces around, chewing his cigar.

Ricky just stands in the corner. Ever since the blowup, he’s been pretty reserved. He kept assisting with training, but only out of devotion to Dad. Every time he looks at Louis, I still think he might snap.

The crowd erupts.

The last fight before our match is over.

My stomach ties itself in knots. I swear, it’ll be a miracle if I don’t puke.

“You good?” Louis asks as we line up to walk out.

“Me? Stop worrying about me. Focus.”

He looks menacing in his black and turquoise robe with the gym’s logo on the back—The Blizzard. It’s hard to imagine that this will be the only time he does this. He looks natural in this environment, like he was made for it.

When it’s all over, will he really give it up?

His name echoes in the arena, joined by the familiar Rocky Theme. From here, we can hear the crowd laughing.

We both look back at my dad, who shrugs.

“What?” he laughs. “It’s his only fight. Might as well. You ready, Philly?”

Ricky groans.

I roll my eyes.

Louis slams his gloves together and strides out of the tunnel.

Things happen fast. When you’re in front of crowds this big, everything feels like a blur.

They check Louis’s gloves, his face.

We get set up in the blue corner, joining Louis in the ring.

Ruiz walks out with the crowd advantage. They roar for him, and he wears their intensity on his jagged face. He’s mean-looking, but the type of mean that isn’t personal. You step in the ring with this guy, you’re his enemy—no hard feelings.

There’s nothing left to say, nothing to do.

The announcer joins both fighters in the center, the rest of us clear out of the ring, the ref goes over what he expects, and the bell dings.

It’s real now.

Louis starts the fight too hard, too fast. He crowds Ruiz, throwing a few body blows that get blocked before he takes a hook on the jaw.

That knocks a little sense into him.

He dances back, gets some space.

“Slow it down!” my dad roars. “It’s the first round, kid!”

He’s right. Most first-time fighters would take four rounds for their first bout. For Louis, he’s going eight unless somebody goes down and doesn’t get up. He needs to pace himself.

The two circle each other, poking at their defenses.

Ruiz is quick with his jabs and fast on his feet. Louis tries a few to get in but fails to find the target. Ruiz takes the opportunity to get some counters in.

Already, Louis has a cut under his eye.

I snap my own gloves on, ready for my fight.

“Get ready,” my dad says.

I’m already prepping cotton swabs, dunking towels in ice, and yelling at Ricky to get out more jelly.

Every time Louis gets hit, I feel it in my gut.

I have to resist the urge to climb into the ring and start hitting Ruiz back.

“Come on!” I yell. “Make him earn it!”

Finally, the bell rings.

Louis comes over, breathing hard through his nose. Blood trickles down his cheek, casting a faint red line through his beard.

Dad gets him down on the stool and stands between him and everything else as I get to work.

“All right. Not bad,” Dad says over the crowd, slapping Louis on the head. “You survived a round with a top-five fighter, kid. Now, let’s see about inflicting some damage.”

Louis doesn’t take his eyes off my father. Good, that’s where I need him right now. Dad’s running him through strategy while I mend this cut—it’s not bad, so far. I press the chilled endswell over the cut once I’ve got it cleaned up to reduce the swelling.

“Feel him out,” my dad says, speaking with a rhythm like he’s throwing combos.

“He’s confident. Too confident. He thinks this’ll be easy.

Let him work himself down. I want you to focus on counters.

He’s got more reach than you, so stay back on your feet or else he’ll rack up points with those jabs. ”

The bell rings.

“Go. Go!”

Louis explodes off the stool.

This time, Ruiz rushes him.

This time, they go blow for blow.

Louis doesn’t back up an inch, dodging a few jabs before delivering a lightning-fast combo from gut to uppercut. The arena erupts, groaning like they felt that.

Our corner cheers like we’ve already won. Even Ricky slaps me on the back, a big smile on his face. “That’s it! Let him know!”

Moving forward, Ruiz fights with more caution. Even the crowd feels tenser—now they know that Louis is here to fight.

Round after round, they work for their openings. Occasionally, they come together and hold their ground, much to the crowd’s delight. Every time, I want to look away. Louis battles it out like a soldier, taking his blows and giving them right back.

But Ruiz clearly has the edge.

Every time Louis comes back to our corner, the cut under his eye is worse. It’s swelling badly, despite my treatments, and his eye is starting to close. Not to mention all the shots he’s taking to the body.

Still, his breathing is controlled. All those two-a-days have paid off.

We’re entering the sixth round.

“You are putting on a hell of a show!”

My dad is in it. It’s like the old days. His blood is flowing like jet fuel.

“Look at him. Look at him!” He grabs Louis by the head, forcing him to stare at Ruiz.

The man isn’t as bloodied as Louis, but he’s gasping for air.

“He’s tired. Maybe more tired than you are.

He didn’t think he’d have to work for it!

You hear me, son? I told you all those bad days would be worth it! ”

Louis laughs through the pain.

He meets my eyes, and I smile.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to throw in the towel?” I say.

Louis spits blood into the bucket. “Not a chance.”

“Then get out there and knock his ass out.”

The bell drives him from my arms.

Both men have slowed down now, almost as if they’d agreed to catch their breath. A few jabs here and there. They clench, and the crowd boos.

“Shit,” my dad sighs. “If they keep up like this, Ruiz wins by decision. I didn’t think Louis was this tired…”

Everyone is watching their faces, their arms.

Not me. I’m watching Louis’s legs.

Every step he takes is firm, rooted. The muscles flex, still ready to work, while everything else looks exhausted.

“He’s not tired,” I say quietly. “He’s playing him.”

Just as the crowd starts to boo another clench, Louis explodes out of it, firing on all cylinders and backing Ruiz into the corner. I can hear the hiss of his breath from here, followed each time by the heavy impact against Ruiz’s body and face.

I feel the arena get on its feet.

He’s landing punch after punch, faster than my heart can beat.

Ruiz is defenseless, completely overwhelmed by this sudden burst of power and speed.

Two to the body.

Another strong uppercut.

Hooks back to back, making Ruiz stumble and nearly drop.

But the bell saves him, and Louis is forced back by the ref. I watch Ruiz stumble back to the stool. He’s so dazed I’m surprised he’s standing. Another ten seconds and that might have been it.

Dad roars, cursing and throwing his hands up to the crowd’s delight. It’s not him who kneels in front of Louis, it’s Ricky.

My brother is alive, fired up as if he’s the one out there delivering the pain.

“That’s what I’m talking about! He’s done. You have him!”

He grabs Louis by the back of the neck.

There’s nothing for me to do but squeeze a cold tower over Louis’s head. Dad looks at me and shrugs, smiling and letting Ricky handle it from here.

“I was wrong, Louis,” Ricky says. Even now, his eye is still a little warped from Louis’s right hook three weeks ago.

“You hear me? I was dead fucking wrong. You’re not a chump.

You’re not a loser. You’ve got it. You’ve got it like I never did.

And you’re gonna win. Remember the first round?

How you came out too strong? I want that again, right now.

I want you to be out of this stool before the bell.

I want you to close the distance and throw punches until he’s on the mat.

You hear me?! I better not see him get a chance to extend his fucking arm to make use of that reach.

This doesn’t go to a decision. IT. ENDS.

HERE! Two rounds! Two rounds to put him on the mat. Fight like it’s the last time!”

Louis roars something through his mouth guard that none of us understands. He’s standing there, waiting for his opponent before the bell rings.

The fight doesn’t go to a decision.

Louis doesn’t end it in two rounds.

He ends it in one.

Ruiz submits to a storm of blows that look like they’ll never end. For he faced a man who would never fight again, never put those gloves on and sacrifice his body for the purse.

Louis’s eye is shut.

He’s bleeding all over the mat.

And, of course, he’s smiling.

We rush the ring when the count ends. The arena is electric. I feel every cheer in my bones, matching my elation.

Ricky and I get ourselves under Louis’s arms, letting him finally feel the exhaustion he’s been fighting back for months.

My dad is holding up Louis’s fist. Ricky is laughing like a wild man. I’m cursing Louis for taking so much punishment to his face. Everyone is in a state of shock.

Everyone except Louis. I swear, by that calm look on his face, you’d think he always knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he’d win this fight.

That’s my man.

The announcer loves it, playing up the underdog, already mythologizing the newcomer who upset a title prospect.

Louis looks at me, only me. He speaks through the roar of the crowd. “I love you. More than anything.”

I don’t get a chance to say it back. They shove a microphone in front of his swollen face.

That’s all right. I’ve got my whole life to tell him how deeply I’ve fallen…

The announcer peppers him with praise. Everything my dad said about offers and fame and money is dangling right in front of Louis. This is his chance to take it, to secure a rich future and a legendary career.

Louis shrugs and speaks calmly into the microphone, “I’d like to thank Hector Ruiz for an amazing fight. He’s incredible, and I’m sure he’ll hold a belt someday. I’d like to thank my coaches, both of them, and my cutman… who I’m going to marry someday.”

Laughter crashes over the arena.

I blush and give them a wave.

Everyone wants to know more about this guy—the kid from Philly trained out of Don Winter’s gym in New Mexico.

Louis looks down at me, smiles, and gives his final words to the world of boxing.

“And I’d like to officially announce my retirement.”

I’ve never heard so many people be disappointed at once.

People are screaming, booing, and a few even throw things toward the ring. The announcer is so confused that he doesn’t know how to continue the interview.

Louis hugs Hector Ruiz, says a few words to him that no one else can hear, and returns to my side.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, eye swollen shut. “I remember you saying something about rocking my world…”

“I told you you’d fight better.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he laughs. “Now that I’m not a fighter, you’ve got no reason to withhold.”

“Good,” I say, guiding him to the ropes. “It was torture for me.”

I don’t know what Louis will do now.

He’s upset the boxing world, got his money, and earned the respect of my family.

All I know is that I’ll never have to watch him get hurt like this again. He could decide to dig ditches for the rest of his life, and I’d be happy coming home to his cheesesteaks, his smile, and late nights spent tracing his scars.

But I know he’ll push himself into something new.

That defensiveness that clouded him is gone.

He’s got people in his corner now, and I think he’s finally realizing that there’s nothing he can’t do.

I’ll support him no matter what he chooses, knowing that he’s the type of man to give whatever he does his all.

Louis might not believe it, but he’s a fighter.

And now, he gets to choose his fight.