Chapter 15: Caged: Chapter 15

I go home to my empty house, eat a light dinner, ice my damn knee, and watch ESPN. All that takes about an hour—maybe less—before I realize this isn’t where I want to be. This house I spent close to a year fixing up. The one I painstakingly refinished so every inch would be exactly what I wanted . . . This house feels empty. It feels cold.

How the hell can things change so quickly?

So completely?

I don’t want to be here. I want to be . With her.

I’m balancing on a tightrope strung together by rules.

Rules I know I can’t break.

But the beauty of rope is you can bend it to your will and shape it to your needs.

And I need to be next to her.

That’s how I find myself sitting in Maddie’s driveway, staring at her darkened window and thinking about how I want to feel her body wrapped in my arms, when a fist bangs against my hood.

.

I open the door and come face-to-face with a pissed-off Brandon Dixon on the other side. “Sorry, man. I was just . . .”

. I’m not sure what I was doing, but I’m pretty sure I’m not telling him.

“Jesus Christ, Kingston.” He cups his hands around his mouth and blows on them. “I’m freezing my fucking balls off out here. Come inside or go home. Cause right now, you look like a desperate stalker. And I don’t let stalkers near my sister.”

Without overthinking it, I grab my bag from the passenger seat and follow him into his house.

Cinder greets me once the door closes, winding her way between my legs and swishing her white-tipped tail behind her. The light of the TV is the only thing illuminating the first floor of the darkened house. “Is Maddie awake?”

Something unreadable flashes across Dixon’s face. I don’t know him well enough to know if it’s anger or hurt. But something is bothering him. “I don’t know. She’s not talking to me.”

“Oh shit. I’ve got sisters. I know what that’s like.” Scarlet can hold a grudge longer than any of my siblings, but Lenny’s not too far behind.

“Yeah well, I don’t. Maddie’s never been mad at me before.” He sits down on the couch and rests his elbows on his knees, not looking at me. “I didn’t do anything differently, but this time, she lost her mind. She’s furious. And that’s not like my sister.”

This should be weird, right? Maddie’s brother talking to me, her new man, about her.

Wait . . . I don’t like that. I’m not her because there wasn’t an .

I’m her fucking man.

Damn, this woman brings out every overprotective, asshole alpha instinct I have.

“Listen, you know Maddie in a way I never will, so take this with a grain of salt, if you want. But I think you might need to keep in mind that you’ve helped your sister become this incredible, strong, confident woman. She’s put me in my place with ease and a smile more than once over the years. You might need to give her a little room to breathe.” Okay. That wasn’t too bad.

Dixon drags his hand down his face, then grabs a beer from the side table. “Want one?” he asks, and I shake my head no. “I swear to God, I’m never having kids. I thought this would be easier once Maddie was grown. But it’s not. It just keeps getting harder, and I have no clue what the hell I’m doing. I can’t deal with this shit.”

I guess I shouldn’t tell him the thought of his sister pregnant with my baby doesn’t even remotely scare me. Instead, a rush of need surges through me with that thought. But I should probably tell her that, not him. And that conversation isn’t happening tonight.

After an awkward moment, I point toward the stairs. “I’m just gonna . . . yeah.” I take two steps before Dixon interrupts me.

“Don’t fuck this up, Kingston. I never thought I’d like anybody who’s interested in Maddie. You’re still not good enough for her, but she could do worse.”

“Thanks, man.” Maybe if I didn’t have sisters, I’d think this guy was an asshole. But I know what it’s like to just want them to be protected, even though I know they can take care of themselves.

I turn back and make my way up the stairs.

Maddie’s door is already cracked open when I brush my knuckles against it gently.

I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if she didn’t answer.

No turning back now.

Quietly, I open her door and let myself in her room, then stand there, staring at my sunshine. Her golden hair is spread out on her pillow like a halo framing her gorgeous face. The moonlight streaming in through the windows illuminates long black lashes lying against her cheeks. And her hands are tucked up under her head while the rest of her is buried under a mountain of blankets.

She’s an angel, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch she’s trusted with her heart.

At least, I hope she does.

I kick off my sneakers, pull my shirt over my head, and climb into bed.

As if sensing me, she scoots back, and I wrap my arms around her, dragging her against my chest. She wiggles into me, adjusting herself to be my little spoon, then wraps both of her arms around mine.

That’s it. That’s all it takes for this woman to be safe in my arms. No hesitation. No resistance. She’s so damn welcoming when she’s sleeping, and I finally relax.

“Mmm . . . Hudson?” her sleepy voice murmurs.

I press my lips to the top of her head. “Yeah, baby. It’s me. Go back to sleep.”

“What are you doing here?” Maddie rolls over to face me, then kisses my chest before she molds herself to me.

“Couldn’t sleep without you.” Might as well lay it out there.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” She yawns, her eyes still closed.

“Doesn’t matter. Just needed to be here, Mads.”

She weaves her legs through mine and presses her lips to my neck. “You say the sweetest things.” Her breathing evens out within seconds, and nothing else is said.

And as I drift off, I realize this is the most at peace I’ve been in years.

Being the reigning champion meant one thing when it came to contract negotiations for this fight. I was able to insist it be in Philly. I’ve won my title and defended it in Las Vegas, New York City, Atlantic City, and Seattle. It was time my city got some love. It was also convenient as hell.

We’re at the convention center for weigh-ins today and for the fight tomorrow.

Once they announce each of us and do the ceremonial weigh-ins—as if they didn’t just do the official ones thirty minutes ago backstage—we pose for pictures and some good-natured shit-talking. Then Maniac and I take seats at the long table with our coaches and prepare for questions from the press.

They throw out softballs.

When they ask what my plan for after the fight is, I laugh. No need for them to know I plan on spending twenty-four hours in bed worshipping Madison Dixon. Instead, I tell them, I’m going to Disney World.

We’re all laughing when a voice calls out from the back of the crowd. “When are you gonna fight a real fight, Kingston? You like callin’ yourself . You like sittin’ in that ivory tower. But you ain’t earned shit, man.”

“Is that a challenge, Reynolds?” the announcer asks.

Cade stands so I won’t. “Get out of here, Reynolds, before I throw you out of here the way I threw you out of my gym.”

A resounding is heard bubbling through the crowd. And this asshole’s cheeks burn bright red. His face gives away every move he’s going to make before he moves. It always has. He’s never been a skilled fighter, just a lucky one.

And when he charges the stage and has to be held back by security, no one in the room is surprised.

“You gonna let that hot little piece of ass protect you again this time, King?” he sneers, and I see red.

I stand, and Cade’s hand presses down against my shoulder, reminding me not to throw away what I’ve been working toward. “Earn the fight, motherfucker. Earn the fucking fight, and I already told you, I’ll beat you anywhere. Anytime. Stop trying to get everyone to listen to your bullshit and earn the fucking fight,” I demand. But it’s too late. The guards are escorting him out while the questions get thrown at me all at once.

They’re all about Maddie.

Who is she?

Does she have a name?

Is she my girlfriend?

Did I steal her from Spider?

They get more ridiculous with each question, and I refuse to answer any of them.

Cade pushes me from the stage, telling the MC I’m done for the day.

I head to the warm-up room that’s already been set up for tomorrow’s event and dress while Cade yells into his phone at Imogen. “Control the damn story, Gen. This is bullshit. He’s trying to throw Hud off his game.”

My blood boils the longer I stand in this room and listen to Cade go into management mode.

“Fix it,” he tells her again, then pockets his phone. “Fuck, man. I fucking told you no women. You don’t need to be dealing with this shit right now. I need your head clear. I need you focused.” He puts both hands on my shoulders and stares at me, like that’s gonna zen me out or some shit.

News flash—it’s not.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna kill that fucker,” I growl, the words vibrating from my chest.

“Focus, King.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Focus on tomorrow. You can fight that pencil-dicked shit any time you want. Fuck.” He looks up to the ceiling. “I’ll even let him back in Crucible, if that’s what you want, just so you can kick his undiscipline, lazy ass all over my mats. I’ll fucking do it myself if you don’t want to. But we’re not worrying about him right now. We’re focusing on McGuire. We’re focusing on tomorrow. We’re focusing on the win.”

When I grind my teeth and refuse to answer him, he asks again, “We good?”

“Yeah, Saint. We’re good.”

Neither of us believe it.

But it’ll have to do for now.

I’ll be better when I can work it out in the cage tomorrow.

I go in search of my brother late Friday afternoon, but he’s not in any of his usual places. The family room is empty, the TV turned off. No sign of life in the kitchen, not even the gym in the basement. I know he’s home from practice. I heard him come in while I was on a call with a client earlier. But he’s been quiet since.

We’ve both been quiet this week.

It’s not until Cinder paces in front of the sliding-glass doors that I catch sight of him sitting on the back deck. A light dusting of snow is falling, covering his black sweater, and Brandon is sitting there in the middle of it, sipping something in a rocks glass.

He doesn’t look up when I step outside.

Not even when I take the glass from him and sip.

The fiery liquid burns my throat, warming me from the inside out. “We need to buy a Christmas tree, not drink something that tastes like one.”

“It’s gin, Mads.” He takes the glass back and looks out over the backyard. “Did you ever think we’d be here? After all those years in all those foster homes . . . I never actually believed we’d make it out.”

“Brandon . . .” Any lingering anger I may have been holding onto disappears with the vulnerability in his admission.

“I mean, I knew we had to. I knew I had to get you out of there. But I was so fucking scared I couldn’t. I just needed a scholarship. I knew that was our golden ticket. That was our first chance at freedom. At safety. But that meant I had to leave you alone for the first time.” He finishes his gin and slams it a little too hard against the table. “I had to do it, Maddie. I had to take that chance so we could be safe.”

I stand there in shock.

This isn’t something we talk about.

.

“Brandon, would you look at me?” When his nearly obsidian eyes finally lift, there’s so much pain barely contained within their depths, it threatens to bring me to my knees. “You’ve always been my protector. You’ve always kept me safe. And I know you’ve done it at your own expense.”

I sit down next to him on the chilly, wet chair and knock my knee against his. “It’s always been us against the world, and I think we’ve done a pretty good job. I held my own while you were gone. And it’s not like you didn’t stop by every night after practice.” I try to lighten the mood by giggling at the memory. “You smelled awful half the time. Like you brought every dirty gym sock in existence home with you.” When he doesn’t even crack a smile, I get serious. “You’ve always been there. But it’s time. I need you to start letting me face a little more of it on my own.”

“Maddie, you have no idea what the thought of you getting hurt did to me.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, and I rest my head against his. “I know you’re a strong woman, but it’s always been my job to take care of you. To not find out what happened until after I got home from London made me feel completely helpless, and I haven’t felt that way since we were kids.”

“But that’s the thing. We’re not kids anymore. You slayed all the monsters, Brandon.” An errant tear trails down my cheek before I have a chance to blink it back. “And now you’ve got to trust that I can do that myself.”

“Will you talk to me again if I say I’m working on it?”

A snowflake gets caught on my lashes, and a chill skirts down my spine. “I’ll talk to you again if we can go inside where there’s heat.”

“Mads . . .” Brandon pulls me to my feet. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone about everything?”

My stomach drops, and a ball of nerves clogs my throat, threatening to choke me. “Like a therapist?”

Brandon nods.

“I guess I’ve thought about it. But it’s not something I’ve ever actively looked into.” Maybe I should. Maybe it would help. We walk into the warm house, and I shake the tiny snowflakes from my hair.

“I made an appointment to talk to someone next week.”

I look at my brother, my protector. Really look at him. This man who’s been keeping me safe since before I even knew what he was doing, and I realize it’s my turn to keep safe.

I lace my fingers through his and squeeze. “Can I go with you?”