He seems confused by my demand for oblivion. Can’t really blame him.
Maybe he needs some encouragement.
I feint left, then come in with the uppercut, snapping his head back, causing him to stumble. Cheers go up on every side of the ring, but I’m just focused on my opponent. Hoping I’ve given him the motivation he needs to come back swinging.
And he does. Thank God.
Nostrils flaring, he comes roaring back with a jab straight to my left cheek, followed by a right cross that normally I could handle, no problem, but I haven’t slept or eaten in days, so this time it spins me around, static crackling in my brain, ears ringing. I need to turn around fast, regroup, but only if I want to win—and I don’t. I just want to wait here for another punch.
But then I hear her voice.
It’s not in my head. I know the difference.
In my head, her tone sounds distant, like remnants of a dream.
This? It’s Grace. In the flesh. Right here and now.
And it’s like being electrified.
I turn around just in time to see her climbing into the ring.
Climbing into the ring.
Running toward me.
No.
No no no.
She has almost reached me when my opponent rears back with the death blow. This is it. The one I’ve been waiting for. The one that will put me out. Blessedly into the black. And it’s coming just as Grace tries to insert herself between me and the behemoth fighter from Jersey. It’s a nightmare that happens in slow motion.
“Grace! Stop!” I howl at the top of my lungs, propelling myself forward, determined to block the blow. And thank God, thank God, the other fighter’s confusion lessens some of the momentum in his punch, because I don’t get there in time. There’s no physical way to make it. To stop the horror from taking place. The fighter’s taped fist glances off the side of her head and she recoils, stumbling, my roar echoing off the walls of the Hellmouth.
I cold cock the other man, eliminating the threat to Grace on instinct, and still manage to catch her before she hits the mat. I cradle her in my arms, baying like a broken beast, nothing making sense, the world in a sickening blur around me.
God oh God oh God this isn’t happening.
“Gracie!” I drop down on my knees, rocking her, staring at the angry red knot forming on her temple in terror. “No, baby. No. Why?”
Miracle of miracles, her eyes flutter open and I hold my breath, praying I’m not just in denial. Praying I’m not just imagining her being conscious. With my entire existence suspended in time, I watch as she turns and presses her lips into my chest, reaching a hand up to cradle my cheek. “Because I love you,” she whispers, starting to cry. “I love you so much.”
Her image blurs, my throat closing up so tight that I can’t speak.
Can’t do anything but reel in the disbelief.
I stumble to my feet with Grace in my arms, easing us through the ropes, carrying her through the mass of people who have gone silent. Horrified. “I have to get you to the hospital.” I’m slurring, hoarse. Dizzy. She loves me. She’s dying. She loves me. She’s dying. “You need a doctor. You’re not…you aren’t made to be hit like that, Gracie. Jesus Christ. Does it hurt too bad?”
“Nothing hurts right now. I’m with you.” Tears course down her cheeks, her palm stroking up and down my chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Please. Please. I need someone to look and tell me you’re okay. Please.”
After a moment, she nods, snuggling into my chest. “Okay.”
Expelling a relieved breath, I pick up my pace, her health and safety consuming my focus. After I’m assured she’s not seriously injured, I’ll process the fact that she loves me. That she came back. That I’m holding her again. Right now, though, all I can do is imagine the worst. A concussion. Something bleeding in her brain. All I can do is see the punch connecting with her beautiful head, over and over again, and my entire body is shaking and sweating.
“I’m okay,” she says, levering herself up to kiss my face. “I-I shouldn’t have done that, but you weren’t hearing me. It was too loud. I knew…I knew the next punch was going to be bad. I couldn’t let it happen, North. I couldn’t. Your sister came to get me. She told me you’ve been getting hurt on purpose.” She makes a choked sound and bursts into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
We’re on the sidewalk now, moving toward my car at a fast clip and I’m not stopping for any reason. Doctor. Hospital. But the sight of her misery almost breaks me. “What do you have to be sorry about, Gracie? You were just doing what’s best for yourself. I…it was selfish of me to expect you to trade that nice life for this one. Look at what my world does to you.”