Love’s Crescendo

Chapter 19

I blinked as sleep left me and looked up at the ceiling. I could hear Jessa breathing softly next to me, and I could feel her hair spread out across my chest. I reached down and absentmindedly rubbed a curl between two of my fingers. Her leg was hooked over one of my thighs, and I was aware of her soft skin pressed against mine. It had been six days since I had left the mess that is me at her feet. Six days since I had enjoyed seeing her so happy at her party, only to awkwardly reveal how much I liked her and wanted her.

We hadn’t talked about what true north meant to me yet. We hadn’t acknowledged how much we had still left unsaid, but what I did know was now she was mine, and I was hers. Tonight, after the fight, I planned on laying the rest of me all out on the table for her to be able to truly choose me. At least, I hoped she would.

I turned to look down at this woman, who had quickly become a source of calm for me. A lighthouse. A silver lining. I could see the necklace I had commissioned for her against her tan skin, and I hooked the charms over my finger. The moonstone was my birthstone, and the amethyst was hers. I presumed she thought this was a cute twenty-dollar necklace from a local store, but it was actually made from pure gold with real gemstones. I had the same jeweler who made Rose’s engagement ring create the necklace. He hadn’t said anything to me in the email other than a thank you for the opportunity and a discussion regarding the design, but my anxiety created a whole story in my head about his judgment on how quickly I was moving on.

Did he think about how it hadn’t even been two years since my fiancée had been murdered, and I was already making expensive jewelry for another girl?

“Probably,” Rose mocked in my head. I shifted my body slightly and let my head fall back deeper into the pillow. I was not going down that road of crazy today. I had to stay focused and sharp for my fight tonight. A lot was riding on me winning. Not only were the stakes high because I was going up against another undefeated fighter, so the pot was bigger than ever, but, more importantly, my girl was going to be there watching me. I needed to prove to her that I could protect her before I told her the story of how much I had failed others in the past.

I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard the sound of Myles making coffee in the kitchen area. His sponsor was coming to pick him up for a meeting. Jessa was not working today, so we were both sleeping in. Well, she was sleeping, and I was stressing. I was stressing because I had received a text from the guys last night about how excited they were for me to come back, and did I need them to send the jet, or should they come meet me?

I texted them back that I would message them once I tied up some loose ends here. Loose ends that were the biggest fight of my short-lived boxing career, a girl who made my heart swell up in my chest every time I thought about her, and a very recently clean addict who had quickly become what I would consider a friend.

My brain shifted gears, and the words “ If I fuck you in that bed while you wear that necklace, I’m going to fall in love with you ” rang loudly in my head. She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t asked me to put her down. She hadn’t gotten mad at me for not prepping her before sliding in and finding her more dry than wet. She hadn’t pushed me away or asked me to explain myself or demanded more or better or less from me.

She had just held her ground as she accepted me with all my broken pieces. Then she allowed me to pour all of my jumbled, confused feelings into her as I fucked her like I hated her while hoping she knew that what I was feeling was the exact opposite.

Afterward, we sat in bed while she ate a slice of her birthday cake, and I gave her another hint of who I really was as I strummed my guitar. I had played the song she’d requested of me, what felt like eons ago, “Calico” by Pointing West. The writer of that song was me. The band who sang it was mine. She hadn’t noticed. It didn’t click in her head that this muscly man in her bed was once the thin, glasses-wearing, buzz-cut sporting lead singer of a famous band. I had once been him, but I was never going to be him ever again. No matter what the boys, the paparazzi, or Gordon had to say about it. I was now Jessamine’s, and even when I went back to singing, I was going to remain hers first.

If she would have me.

I hadn’t fucked Jessa since that night. I had tried to explain to her that all the pent-up testosterone from not coming was good for my fight. So, for the last six days, she had been driving me crazy and purposely testing my resolve by walking around our room in various states of undress. Last night, after she showered, she had come out in her full naked glory. I had to literally leave the room because she kept bending down to “pick things up” and I couldn’t stand one more minute of it. Her husky laugh followed me all the way out to where I sat next to Myles on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, munching on a bowl of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered.

He caught on quickly and didn’t ask any further questions.

This morning, she was looking particularly edible as she was lying curled up in the bed, her curves spread out like a buffet just for me. I had to pack up my shit and escape to my van, where I could practice my pre-fight rituals in peace. I texted her that I would be back in time to pick her up.

I never went to the gym on the day of a fight. Instead, I busked for two hours in the same spot I always did beforehand. I was superstitious with my rituals, and since I kept winning, it solidified them even more. After playing some music, I went back to my van and stared at the photo in my wallet for a while, feeling both happy and sad that my usual rage and fury hadn’t ignited the way they usually did. I sighed and put it away.

I took out my ratty notebook and scribbled out the first stanza of a new song that had been bouncing around in my head. Then, I drove to the same grocery store I always did to buy an entire rotisserie chicken that I ate alone in the quiet solitude of my van. Except this time, I could feel the essence of Jessa floating around in my veins, spurring me on to win the fight—not due to the frenzy of my temper but rather my craze of emotion for her. It felt like the emotion came from the same place, but it also felt vastly different.

As the sun set, I drove back to the hotel and waited for Jessa and Myles to come down. She was wearing the lace black bodysuit we had purchased at Goodwill. That day at the rage room felt like it had been a year ago when, in reality, it had only been less than two months. I felt like I had evolved so much since meeting her that it seemed like a lifetime had passed.

As she grew closer, I saw that the bodysuit left little to the imagination, and I felt my protective feelings for her rear up inside of me. I almost regretted encouraging her to let me buy it. Objectively, I could see how stunning she looked, and obviously, she felt comfortable enough to wear it. So, I bit my tongue and stopped myself from telling her to zip up her coat and protect herself from the leery gaze of all the degenerates that would be at the fight tonight. Myles hopped into the backseat of my van and grinned at me.

“Let’s fucking go, dude!”

His obvious excitement made me laugh. He and I had bonded ever since he had gotten sober. I drove him to his meeting almost every morning and we would talk the entire time. In fact, I had never talked so much in my life. I hadn't known it before, but I needed him and his insights on life.

Some nights, after Jessa would fall asleep, he and I would make food, and we would sit on the couch, and he would tell me about therapy and his meetings. I clung to every word. So much of his healing process was a process I also needed to explore. I may not be an addict in the literal sense, but I was seeking healing all the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” I agreed in a less exuberant tone, touching my fist to his as he held it out to me. Jessa was much quieter in comparison as she climbed in and buckled herself.

“You okay?” I peered over at her as I shifted the van into reverse.

“I know I insisted on coming, but I’ve realized I’m not really enjoying the idea of watching you get beat up,” she admitted after a moment.

“You assume I’m going to let him touch me, baby.” I grinned.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Myles exclaimed from the backseat. Jessa burst out laughing.

“I’ll be doing all the touching later,” she promised with a wink. I groaned in anticipation, and Myles made a fake gagging sound as we pulled out onto the road to drive to the warehouse where the fight was being held.

Beau’s eyes almost popped out of his head as I walked in holding Jessamine’s hand with Myles trailing closely behind. In all the time he had known me, I had never shown up with anyone, let alone a beautiful woman and her brother.

“When you texted me that you needed two seats for your girl and your friend, I thought you were kidding.”

I almost laughed at his confusion. Almost. Instead, I kept a stern look on my face and replied, “When have I ever kidded around with you?”

“Two seats in the front. You got it, boss.” Beau rushed off to make sure I had those seats, and I found myself a spot in the corner of the room to prepare for the fight. A lot of money exchanged hands at these events, yet the buildings they chose to host these underground matches in were decrepit at best. Jessa didn’t flinch at our dilapidated surroundings—she just stood next to me, watching as I wrapped up my hands.

“When you go out there”—I jerked my head in the direction of the ring where everyone was sitting—“I need you to watch her.”

Myles nodded.

“It can get a little crazy, and she…” I didn’t finish my sentence because it was weird to tell your girlfriend's brother that I could almost see the shadow of her nipples behind her bodysuit and that, if allowed, the men in the crowd would eat her up and spit her out.

“I got her,” he assured me as Beau ran back in to tell me that he had made room for them in the front. I grunted out a thank you and gestured for Jessa and Myles to follow him. I could hear the rumble of the crowd through the open door, and I imagined around a thousand people had already shown up.

“You got this, music man.” Jessa grinned up at me.

“You know I do.” I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her face close to mine so I could kiss her. Then I spun her away.

“Stay safe.”

She winked. “I always do.”

I watched her follow Myles through the doorway and then turned back to finish getting ready for the fight. I saw my phone light up with missed calls from Gordon, Ash, Nile, and Mika.

“Impatient much?” I muttered. I shoved my phone into my coat pocket and ignored it when I heard it buzzing again. Nothing, not even my band being overly zealous about my getting back to California, could distract me right now. It was my last fight as Kian West; in fact, it was my last day as Kian West, and I intended on going out with a win.

I waited, no I skulked impatiently near the doorway until I heard my name being shouted over the loudspeaker, and the music started up.

“Let’s fucking go,” I said to myself, repeating Myles’s words from earlier. My heart rate accelerated, and I took some deep breaths to calm my system before removing any bit of a reaction from my face and walking out into the ring to face the bright lights and the tightly wound chaos that lived and breathed between these walls.

As I entered the ring, I could hear my name being shouted, and I could feel the crowd’s frenzy. Although it boiled within me, I didn’t let a single emotion cross my face. When the fighter couldn’t read me, they never knew what I would do next. It’s how I kept winning. Well, that and my never-ending well of anger that spurred me on.

However, I couldn’t fully access my usual anger tonight. It hadn’t completely dried up, but the calm and happiness that Jessamine offered seemed to have soothed my system, quieting the usual hole of rage inside of me.

A shock of what could only be explained as fear shot through me. My fury was what kept me going during these fights. I needed my fire to keep me focused and locked in on winning this thing. I gulped down the saliva that had pooled in my mouth and shifted my neck from left to right to loosen myself up as my mind raced. I stood in my corner of the ring as they called out the next fighter, and the crowd went wild again.

My opponent was a big, lumbering twenty-something-year-old with a nose that had been broken one too many times and fucked up ears. He leered at me from over the ref's shoulder as he caught me stealing a glance at Jessa and taunted loudly, “That's your girl? When I win, can I fuck her?”

I growled under my breath as I flinched, knowing that Jessa had to have heard him. I didn’t risk another glance at her. But, oh, the beautiful savage outrage flared up inside of me just as I needed it, and I sucked in a breath as I let the heat of it fill and fuel me. I could practically taste it. I was finally ready to taunt this fighter into showing me his weaknesses so I could fuck him up and win. This time my anger wasn’t due to all that I had lost, but instead was coming to me from everything that I wanted to keep.

The bell rang, and he came out swinging. I dodged out of pure instinct and felt his glove pass right above where my head had just been. This mother fucker was crazy. I now understood how he was undefeated. He had no rhythm, no game, and no strategy; he was just a brawler.

I bobbed and weaved all around the ring. I was almost bored as I let him jab messily at me until I finally let him hit me just so I could get the crowd going wild. My cheekbone stung from where he had punched me, and I could feel blood dripping down my cheek.

I grinned at him as the next round started. I got him down almost immediately with a check hook. It was the perfect move for an aggressive fighter like him.

In the next round, I caught him unawares with a lead right hit. He was fading quickly for such a big guy. I could see it in his stance and the ever-so-sluggish movements of his jabs.

I let him continue to try and lay it on me, and I just kept picking off the punches, letting him wear himself out. I weaved and bobbed, staying just out of his reach. I could see how frustrated he was growing with me. I feinted to the left and then got him with a few jabs and hooks to his abdomen. He was so focused on protecting his head and face that he had left his midsection completely exposed.

In the last round, I was feeling the ache in my legs and arms, but I knew he had to be hurting even worse. My cheekbone had finally stopped bleeding, and it burned uncomfortably, yet I reveled in it. Finally, I had him on the ropes, and I knew I had the win when I knocked him across the chin with an uppercut punch. The crowd went wild as he stumbled against the ropes and was down for the count. I could see the stunned look in his eyes. He thought he had me, I noted smugly.

Beau was in the ring in a flash, holding up my hand and proclaiming me the winner. The crowd roared. The men were howling. The winners were ecstatic. The women were screaming my name. Yet all I saw was Jessa.

There she was, standing still amongst the mayhem, simply grinning at me, my lighthouse in the fog, and immediately, I knew that I was falling in love with her. I had felt this feeling before. I knew what this emotion crawling up my throat and choking me was. I was falling in love with her because she had returned me to myself. She showed me that hope existed. She helped me enjoy making music again. But most of all I was falling in love with her simply due to the crescendo my heart did inside my chest every time I saw her face.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Let’s fucking go.”

Back in the prep area, Beau pressed a pile of cash in my hand.

“You sure you won’t fight again next month?” he inquired.

“I don’t know if I’ll be around,” I admitted. “I’ll let you know.”

“Aight, bro.” He slapped a hand on my back and then rushed off to prepare for the next match. I unwrapped my hands and then turned my phone over as Jessa and Myles burst through the doorway. Fifteen more missed calls. What the fuck? Worry wormed its way into my brain. Had something bad happened? I picked up my phone to call Ash back when Jessa jumped into my arms, and I forgot everything but her.

“So, so hot.” She groaned against my mouth.

“Yeah?” I smirked, holding her up against me with one arm.

“Still here,” Myles pointed out uncomfortably. I laughed and Jessa leaned back with her legs still wrapped around my waist.

“I love seeing that.” She ran her hand over my lips and then lower, grabbing bits of my beard between her fingers.

“What?” I gently deposited her back down as I grabbed my coat.

“You laughing.” She took my hand as we prepared to leave.

“I…” I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her how much life had hurt before her. I wanted her to know how much she meant to me. I wanted her to know that I wanted both Myles and her to come to California with me. I needed her with me. I wanted more of more . I enjoyed having her as my muse for the music. She was my anchor in the waves and my compass when I was lost. I had to have her understand that she was my true north. “I have to tell you more about me.” I tripped over my words as we pushed the door open.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Back at home?” She turned and kissed my bicep as I nodded.

“Yes, at home.” I breathed. My eyes were suddenly blinded by flashing cameras. The air filled with the sound of shutters and shouts of, “Jace. Why did you disappear?”

“Jace, who's the girl? Is this why you abandoned the tour?”

“Have you been working out?”

“Mr. West, will you be returning to the band?”

“Jace, can we get a statement about the baby?”

I had been found, this much was clear. I turned, in what felt like slow motion, and saw Jessa’s face first gaping at the insanity that was the paparazzi and then back at me, confusion and panic flaring in her eyes. I sprang into action as I felt my anonymity go up in flames, and everything good that I had found here began to slip through my fingers.

“Don’t look at her,” I snarled at the paparazzi vermin as I pushed through the crowd, practically pulling Jessa behind me. She stumbled but followed.

As we got into the van, Myles had his hand up, blocking his eyes from the flashing bulbs as he turned to me, and the words, “What the fuck?” ripped out of him.

I sighed, put the van into drive, and outran the paparazzi just like I had so many times before. I didn’t have the words just yet. But I knew I had a lot to say. I just hoped she would listen.