fight lasted six rounds. As Regan sat at Max’s bedside, they watched the fight together. According to Max, Dylan fought better than he ever had, and after the match, Max grinned with pride, tears in his eyes. “That’s my boy,” he said, as the referee declared him the winner.
Regan clasped his cold, bony hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Go see Dylan,” Max said closing his eyes. “Tell him I’m so proud of him.”
“How about you tell him yourself tomorrow?” Regan asked.
Max nodded. “I’ll do that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
One Year Later
“Do you understand me, Eric? I won’t have fighting in my gym!”
Dylan watched the twelve-year old boy sitting in his office who had been caught fighting with another boy in the gym.
“But he started it!”
“I know he did, Eric,” Dylan said, softening his voice and kneeling down in front of him. “And he’s banned from the gym. I want to make sure that you understand I won’t tolerate it. This is a place to learn and grow. You’ve got talent, boy. Use it for good, not stupid arguments. Got it?”
The boy nodded, his brown eyes glistening with tears.
Dylan nodded. “Okay, now get back out there. George is going to teach class today, but I’m keeping my eye on you. I want to see good form and one hundred ten percent effort, understand?”
Eric nodded and both stood up. Dylan offered a fist and Eric bumped. The door to the office opened, and George poked his head in. “Hey, Dylan. Mr. Thomas says he’s going to be running about ten minutes late today for his session. I checked the schedule for the private sessions and everything looks cool, so I told him fine. And Regan’s here.”
Dylan smiled. “Tell her to get her cute little ass in here,” he said.
George rolled his eyes. “Man, if I said that, you’d have my head on a stick.”
Dylan laughed, and George and Eric walked out, passing Regan as she came in carrying their daughter, Mackenzie, or Max for short.
“Hey, honey,” Dylan said, kissing Regan, and then gazed down at his daughter. “How’s daddy’s little sweetheart?”
He took the two-month-old from Regan’s arms and cradled her to his chest, his heart swelling with love.
The other Max had died the morning after the fight with Regan and Dylan both at his bedside. His last words to Dylan were, “I’m proud of you, Dylan. Don’t fuck this up,” and Dylan had promised him he wouldn’t.
Max had left everything to Dylan—the house, the car, and a substantial savings account. He’d also left strict instructions on his burial. He wanted his ashes spread out in Lake Shasta in California, and Regan and Dylan had made the trip shortly after his death.
Six weeks later, they found out Regan was pregnant, and Dylan had insisted on getting married. They were married by a Justice of the Peace and had a barbeque in their backyard with some of Dylan’s boxing friends to celebrate.
The pregnancy had terrified Dylan at first, but as he watched the changes in Regan’s body and saw the ultrasounds, his excitement grew. When they found out they were having a daughter, he had to admit he was slightly disappointed, but then decided it didn’t matter.
“My little girl is going to know how to throw a punch,” he’d said to Regan one night as he kissed her belly.
Regan laughed. “I have no doubt that she will.”
Dylan nuzzled the soft skin of his daughter’s cheek and inhaled deeply, loving the sweet smell of baby powder and innocence.
“How’re things going today?” Regan asked, plopping down in the chair behind his desk.
They had opened the gym two months after Max’s passing. He’d decided that despite his win, it was time to hang up the gloves and move on to another phase of his life. He hadn’t felt he could go any further in his career without Max, and frankly, he hadn’t been sure he wanted to.
Business at the gym was good. Dylan gave lucrative private lessons to white-collared guys who wanted to get
Regan clasped his cold, bony hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Go see Dylan,” Max said closing his eyes. “Tell him I’m so proud of him.”
“How about you tell him yourself tomorrow?” Regan asked.
Max nodded. “I’ll do that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
One Year Later
“Do you understand me, Eric? I won’t have fighting in my gym!”
Dylan watched the twelve-year old boy sitting in his office who had been caught fighting with another boy in the gym.
“But he started it!”
“I know he did, Eric,” Dylan said, softening his voice and kneeling down in front of him. “And he’s banned from the gym. I want to make sure that you understand I won’t tolerate it. This is a place to learn and grow. You’ve got talent, boy. Use it for good, not stupid arguments. Got it?”
The boy nodded, his brown eyes glistening with tears.
Dylan nodded. “Okay, now get back out there. George is going to teach class today, but I’m keeping my eye on you. I want to see good form and one hundred ten percent effort, understand?”
Eric nodded and both stood up. Dylan offered a fist and Eric bumped. The door to the office opened, and George poked his head in. “Hey, Dylan. Mr. Thomas says he’s going to be running about ten minutes late today for his session. I checked the schedule for the private sessions and everything looks cool, so I told him fine. And Regan’s here.”
Dylan smiled. “Tell her to get her cute little ass in here,” he said.
George rolled his eyes. “Man, if I said that, you’d have my head on a stick.”
Dylan laughed, and George and Eric walked out, passing Regan as she came in carrying their daughter, Mackenzie, or Max for short.
“Hey, honey,” Dylan said, kissing Regan, and then gazed down at his daughter. “How’s daddy’s little sweetheart?”
He took the two-month-old from Regan’s arms and cradled her to his chest, his heart swelling with love.
The other Max had died the morning after the fight with Regan and Dylan both at his bedside. His last words to Dylan were, “I’m proud of you, Dylan. Don’t fuck this up,” and Dylan had promised him he wouldn’t.
Max had left everything to Dylan—the house, the car, and a substantial savings account. He’d also left strict instructions on his burial. He wanted his ashes spread out in Lake Shasta in California, and Regan and Dylan had made the trip shortly after his death.
Six weeks later, they found out Regan was pregnant, and Dylan had insisted on getting married. They were married by a Justice of the Peace and had a barbeque in their backyard with some of Dylan’s boxing friends to celebrate.
The pregnancy had terrified Dylan at first, but as he watched the changes in Regan’s body and saw the ultrasounds, his excitement grew. When they found out they were having a daughter, he had to admit he was slightly disappointed, but then decided it didn’t matter.
“My little girl is going to know how to throw a punch,” he’d said to Regan one night as he kissed her belly.
Regan laughed. “I have no doubt that she will.”
Dylan nuzzled the soft skin of his daughter’s cheek and inhaled deeply, loving the sweet smell of baby powder and innocence.
“How’re things going today?” Regan asked, plopping down in the chair behind his desk.
They had opened the gym two months after Max’s passing. He’d decided that despite his win, it was time to hang up the gloves and move on to another phase of his life. He hadn’t felt he could go any further in his career without Max, and frankly, he hadn’t been sure he wanted to.
Business at the gym was good. Dylan gave lucrative private lessons to white-collared guys who wanted to get
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