Knocked Up By Love by Ella Goode

Chapter Three

Bear

“I can’t believeyou let Johnny put you down as the guardian of his br—“

My fist slams into Gene’s jaw before he can get the last letters out. “Don’t call her that,” I say gruffly.

“What the hell?” My sparring partner shakes his head to clear out the fuzziness inflicted by the blow. He brings a wrapped fist to his chin to test the integrity. “What was that for?”

“She’s not a brat.” As Gene and the trainers stare at me in surprise, I fiddle with the tape at my wrist. The punch was uncharacteristic. Unlike a lot of guys, I’m known for my cool head in the ring. Trash talk never riles me up. You could hurl insults about my dick size, my mom’s bedroom habits, the numbers in my bank account, but nothing gets through, much to the irritation of my opponents. But this morning, Gene has been jawing nonstop about snot-nosed little shits that get into everything. Maybe he’s right, and this little human is going to ruin my life. Gene has three kids of his own, so he’s got more experience than me, but for some reason hearing insults about Paige fucks with my head.

“She’s not even your—“

The blow lands even before I realize I’ve swung my arm. Gene staggers back against the ropes with surprise and even a little hurt in his eyes.

“Sorry, man.” I walk over to extend a helping hand, but he flinches away. “I don’t know what’s happening, but the minute you say something bad about this girl, my body just reacts.”

“You made your point. I got it.” Gene retreats another step. He clearly doesn’t believe my apology.

I throw up my hands. “I’m done now. For real. We can go back to regular sparring.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m done for the day. I’ve got to run to the grocery store for the missus.”

“Done for the day?” I gape at him. “It’s not even 10 o’clock. Is the store even open and since when do you buy groceries? You hate that shit.”

Gene stiffens. “Just trying to be a good man.” He ducks under the rope, and he’s gone before I can question him again.

I heave a sigh and look around the room for another practice partner, but everybody else is avoiding my eyes. “Hey, Cooling, you’ve been wanting to step onto the mat with me. How about now?”

The 250-pound, 6 foot two bruiser waves me away. “Sorry. I was a little too energetic on the bike this morning.“ He places a hand at the small of his back. “I think I might’ve pulled a muscle.”

“We can practice reaches and lunges.” I swing against the air in a wide arc and advance forward on the left foot and then the right. “That would stretch your back muscles out.”

“I don’t think so.” He looks toward one of the trainers. “Randy, back me up here. I should rest for the day, right?”

Randy hesitates and then crosses the room to climb into the ring. “I think you should go lift or run. The sparring can wait until later.”

I crush my brows together. “Why? I feel good.” There’s a lot of adrenaline coursing through me right now. I could probably fight an elephant.

“That’s the problem. No one here is equipped to take you on when you’re feeling good. You need to dial it down about five notches, and I don’t think you have it in you to do that today.” He grabs the tape at my wrists and starts unwrapping. “So Johnny’s girl is staying with you until he heals up?”

“That’s right.”

“How did you get roped into that?”

“He came by my place probably a year ago and said that he had this important matter that he needed my help with. At first, I told him no because Johnny’s wrapped up in all kinds of shit that I don’t want to be involved with, but he said it was a matter of life and death. You know he helped me break into this business, right? I figured I owed him.”

“Johnny’s a mess,” Randy agrees, “but he’s our mess. We got to support each other because if we don’t, who will?”

I agree with that. The fighting world is small. Everyone knows everyone else. We have our beefs—what group of people doesn’t? But we also stand up for each other because the lifespan of a fighter is short, and for every fighter who makes millions, there are dozens that can barely scrape by. I donate a lot of winnings and endorsement fees to keep this gym open and employ as many of these hopefuls and retirees as possible. While we may beat the shit out of each other inside the ropes, outside the ring we’ve got each other’s backs.

“To be honest, man, I’m kind of out of my depth with this kid. I had to put her hair up in a ponytail, and that shit is really hard.”

“Maybe you should look into getting a person to help you at home,” Randy suggests.

“Seems like overkill. Johnny should be out of the hospital in a couple weeks.”

Randy gives me a curious look. “He’s in a coma right now. They don’t know when he is going to wake up or if he wakes up.”

“Nah, he’s going to be fine. He had one of these episodes four years ago and he popped out of it with no problems.” Randy does not look convinced. “He’ll be fine,” I proclaim, but inwardly, I’m starting to feel doubts. Injuries caused by head traumas are cumulative, which means with each new insult, he can be suffering worse and worse damage. “If I were to hire someone, and I’m not saying I’m going to, but if I were, where would I go?”

“Call the school. They might have substitute teachers or school room helpers who may be available after hours.”

I knock Randy on the head. “It’s a good idea, man. I’m gonna do that right now.”