Page 10

EMILY

T he days that followed blurred into a stretch of stolen moments and tangled sheets, of late night talks in the dark and the quiet comfort of waking up beside him. Cody and I fell into an easy rhythm, drawn together by something neither of us put a name to, but both of us felt. Every touch and exchange deepened the pull between us.

I let myself enjoy this time we had before Family Day and his Intercontinental fight that loomed ahead. But in the back of my mind, I knew that after this week, everything could change.

The sun was high on the day before my big event. It cast long shadows over the white tents and vendor booths lining the square. Family Day was coming together. Tables were set, banners fluttered in the warm breeze, and volunteers ran around to check last-minute details. It was satisfying, but at this point, I was getting used to my mind being stuck on Cody.

I shook my head and refocused as I made my way past the stage setup. Work first. Sort out my love life later.

“Mom!”

I turned just in time to see Oliver sprinting toward me, suitcase wheels rattling over the pavement. My heart squeezed at the sight of him. I kneeled just in time for him to throw himself into my arms.

“You’re back early,” I laughed, smoothing his hair.

“Daddy had to go to the office,” he said, already pulling away to look around. “I told him I saw you here.”

My mood plummeted. Of course. Trey had dropped him off like a package instead of bringing him home properly. Just business as usual.

I took a slow breath and forced a smile. “Did your horse win?”

Oliver’s face scrunched. “No. Daddy’s mad because he said he had money riding on it.”

I bit my tongue to keep from sighing. Oliver, oblivious, was already scanning the area, eyes bright with excitement.

“This is gonna be so awesome tomorrow.”

I nodded, ruffling his hair. “It will be. Let’s go home, okay? You need to rest up for tomorrow.”

Oliver grabbed my hand, still talking up a storm about tomorrow, but I could hardly hear him over the quiet frustration humming in my chest. Trey hadn’t even cared enough to settle Oliver in himself.

No.

I wasn’t going to let him ruin this weekend. Not when there were better things—better people—to focus on.

CODY

MAX SAT AT MY FEET , watching me lace up my boots like he knew today wasn’t a normal gym day. His tail thumped against the floor, ears perked in curiosity.

“Yeah, I know, bud,” I muttered, standing up and rolling out my shoulders. “Family Day. A public event. A whole lot of people.”

I wasn’t nervous about being around crowds. I’d fought in front of thousands. This time, though, it wasn’t just about me. This was for Emily and Oliver. I made a promise to them, and even if the show Em and I put on for the town was fake, what I built with her and her son was real.

I went to grab my keys. Max followed me to the door, watching as I hesitated for half a second. This wasn’t my usual scene, but neither was Emily, and I’d never wanted something more.

I arrived at the event fifteen minutes later, parking in the designated spot Emily had for me. The sounds of Family Day hit me the second I stepped onto the festival grounds. There was laughter, conversation, the occasional burst of music from a nearby speaker. It was nothing like the arenas I was used to, where tension coiled in the air from blood-hungry fighters. This was lighter.

It made me feel like a fish out of water.

Max walked beside me, every now and then his head looking in the direction of the smells coming from the food stands. Booths lined the park, vendors selling everything from handmade crafts to barbecue plates. Kids ran past me with balloon animals and sticky fingers, and I caught the scent of fried dough and roasted corn. It was the kind of event I’d never thought twice about before.

And then I spotted Emily.

Dressed in a pink shorts outfit I wanted to peel off her curves later, she stood near the main pavilion. She chatted with a group of volunteers. As if she could sense me watching, she turned. The second she smiled, some of the stiffness in my shoulders eased. I started toward her. Before I could make it halfway, Oliver came barreling toward me.

“Cody! You made it!” He skidded to a stop in front of me.

“Of course I did, kid. Told you I’d be here.”

He grabbed my wrist, tugging me forward. “Come on. I have so much to show you.”

For the next half hour, I let Oliver drag me through the festival, pointing out everything from the bouncy house to the dunk tank. Security stood at a comfortable distance, making sure any potential MMA fans knew to respect our space. A few people gave me curious glances, but it wasn’t the usual recognition I got in the fight world. It was more subtle, mostly parents sizing me up, probably trying to figure out what a guy like me was doing here.

A couple of dads eventually struck up conversations, asking about my training regimen, how I prepped for fights. I answered their questions as best I could, keeping things light, but I could feel myself loosening up. It wasn’t so bad. Different, sure, but not bad.

By the time my scheduled Q&A rolled around, a decent-sized crowd had gathered. I stood on the small stage, microphone in hand, scanning the audience. Teens and young adults made up most of the front rows, eager to ask about my career.

“What’s the toughest part of being an MMA fighter?” one kid asked.

“Probably the mental game,” I answered honestly. “Your body can be in peak condition, but if your head isn’t in the right place, you’re done before the fight even starts.”

Another teenager raised his hand. “How do you handle losing?”

“You don’t let it break you. You learn from it. Every loss teaches you something, and if you’re smart, you use it to get better.”

More questions followed about fitness, mindset, even diet. I answered them all, feeling more at ease as the conversation flowed.

Then, someone called out, “Show us a move.”

A few people laughed, but I could tell they were actually interested. I glanced toward the crowd, my eyes landing on Emily. She was watching me with this look—one I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen before. Like she was seeing me in a new light.

I cleared my throat and gestured toward Oliver. “Alright, my assistant here is gonna help me out.”

Oliver beamed as he scrambled up onto the stage, and I showed him a few simple techniques: how to break a wrist grip, how to stay balanced when throwing a punch. He followed my instructions to the letter, grinning the whole time.

The crowd loved it. I did too.

When it was over, Oliver hopped off the stage and ran to Emily, who wrapped an arm around him, laughing at something he said. I took a second to take it in. This wasn’t my world. But with them, it didn’t feel so far off.

EMILY

I HAD ALREADY SPOTTED Trey earlier, stationed at his company’s stand, shaking hands and flashing his businessman smile to anyone who walked by. Typical. Always the charmer when he had an audience. I made the conscious decision to ignore him, knowing full well he’d find an excuse to come my way eventually.

I just hadn’t expected him to pick now.

Cody had just wrapped up his demonstration, and the energy was still buzzing around us. Oliver was practically bouncing on his toes, thrilled to have been part of the action.

“Well, this is cute.”

I stiffened before slowly turning. Trey stood with his usual air of narcissistic confidence, hands in his pockets, appearing all too pleased with himself.

“Didn’t know fighters did charity work,” he said, eyes flicking to Cody. “Figured you’d be busy doing actual training.”

Cody didn’t take the bait. He simply stood there, relaxed. However, I knew him well enough now to recognize the subtle tension in his stance. He wasn’t here to fight Trey.

Neither was I.

But I wasn’t about to let Trey waltz in and act like he had some kind of authority over my life. I took a slow step forward, keeping my voice calm but firm. “What do you want?”

He scoffed as if I were the unreasonable one. “Just checking in. Seeing how my son’s doing.”

I folded my arms. “You mean the son you dropped off with his suitcase like a package delivery?”

A few people nearby had gone quiet, subtly tuning in. Trey noticed too, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “Don’t be dramatic, Emily. I had work to do.”

“Right.” My voice was thick with sarcasm. “Because placing bets on a horse race is such grueling work.”

His jaw tensed. “You don’t know anything about what I do.”

I got out of earshot of the people. I lowered my voice so only he could hear. “And you don’t know anything about what it means to be a father,” I shot back. “Oliver deserves better than a part-time dad. I’m done, Trey. Done letting you make me feel small and acting like you have a say in my life.”

Trey’s expression flashed from anger to frustration. He hated being called out, and this was the first time I really spoke my mind to him.

“I don’t know what kind of fantasy you’re living in,” he sneered. “But this?” He gestured between Cody and me. “I did my research. He’s just a grunt vet with PTSD who now has an excuse to throw his fists around. Playing family with this guy ain’t it.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, Trey turned his attention to Cody, a cruel smile curling his lips. “Must be nice, huh, Stone? Getting handed the easy role? Babysitting instead of actually competing.”

Cody’s fists clenched at his sides, obvious to anyone standing nearby that he had the urge to wipe the jerk grin off Trey's face. Instead, he held back and matched his stare. “Careful.”

Trey just huffed a laugh. “What? You’re the big, tough fighter, right? Maybe you want to show off a little.”

And then, in the most absurd, ego-fueled decision I’d ever seen, my ex raised his fists in some ridiculous mock boxing stance.

A few people snickered. I had enough.

“Oh, for God’s sake—” I started, but before I could finish, Trey threw an exaggerated jab toward Cody, like he was making some kind of point.

Cody didn’t even acknowledge it. He just stepped aside smoothly, letting the punch whiff past him.

But Trey’s timing was spectacularly bad.

One of the guys from the crowd, someone who had clearly been watching Cody’s demo a little too enthusiastically, chose that exact moment to try mimicking a move. He threw his own punch, stepping into the movement the way Cody had demonstrated earlier.

Unfortunately for Trey, he walked right into it.

The impact wasn’t devastating, but it was direct. A solid, clean shot to the nose.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Trey staggered back, eyes wide, hands flying up to his face. A second later, blood started dripping between his fingers.

“Oh, shit,” someone muttered.

Silence hung in the air for a beat. Then Cody shrugged. “Told you, man. You gotta bob and weave.”

Laughter exploded around us.

Trey’s face went bright red, his mortification complete. He looked around, as if searching for some way to salvage his dignity, but it was useless. He had just been publicly humiliated in front of half the town.

His eyes snapped to me, and for the first time in a long time, I saw the realization that he had lost. This involved more than the ridiculous attempt at posturing, but the hold he used to have over me.

Without another word, he turned and stormed off.

I exhaled, my pulse finally settling.

Oliver, standing beside me, let out a delighted, “Whoa.”

Cody met my gaze, one brow raised, waiting for my reaction.

I let out a breathless laugh. “Well,” I said, “that was satisfying.”

Cody tried really hard to contain his smile and failed miserably. “Guess Family Day isn’t so bad after all.”