I wanted to kill Gunner for giving Walter alcohol. Howbeit, after seeing the look in Walter's eyes as he held his empty glass to me, the face of I've been on this earth long enough, so there should be no reason why I can't enjoy a drink without someone—meaning me— stop him from enjoying the days he has left. As much as I'd like to do everything to keep him on this soil longer, I know there's nothing I can do to make that happen. And after witnessing Walter act like a little kid who was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and getting rid of the evidence by consuming his glass of alcohol in one swallow, I felt guilty.

The thing is, I'm not trying to be a bitch by telling him he can't enjoy what he likes and misses; I'm just doing my job as a nurse by watching his sugar intake because of his diabetes, hoping to keep him from going into a diabetic coma in my home. And I feel that if something terrible happened on my watch, I don't think I could live with myself for knowing why it happened.

So, because Walter is nearing ninety years old, I should look at things differently. Since Walter has lived his life to the fullest and has been good to Gunner, Wyatt, and me, he doesn't deserve me telling him he can't have this, he can't have that. Walter deserves to be happy, and if he wants to have a drink, I should accept his request of wishing to have an adult beverage and not allow him to sneak around, slamming alcoholic drinks like he's a teenager.

I looked from Gunner to Walter, reached for Walter's glass, stepped closer, and looked at Gunner, holding out my hand, wanting him to hand me his glass.

He slid the empty glass closer to him, holding it firmer on his lap, and looking at me with fear written in his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, fearing what I'll say or do. I extended my hand further to him. "Your glass, please?"

Gunner's eyes shot from me to Walter and then to mine, studying me.

"Give the woman your damn glass, ya chicken shit," Walter ordered.

As I watched Gunner intensely study me, I tilted my head to the side and asked nicely, "Where's that bottle of bourbon Justin gave you? I know he gave you one, and I know you're hiding it. So where is it?" Gunner's eyes widened, and his brows twitched into confusion, so I smiled and enlightened him by admitting, "I saw Justin give you the bottle in my hospital room. So I know you still have it, and I know you've hidden it, but don't worry. I'm not dumping it into the sink or anything. I'm just going to pour you, boys, another drink, and then I'm going to bed."

"You're what?" Gunner asked, the words barely escaping his lips.

"Either you come with and show me where the bottle is, or tell me where it is. That way, I can pour you two another drink," I said, broadening my smile to assure Gunner that I'm allowing him and Walter to continue doing what they were doing before catching them red-handed.

Looking confused with my sudden change of heart, Gunner raised his hand to his ear, stuck his finger inside the opening, and in a fast motion, he itched it. "Did I hear you, right? You're going to allow Walter to have a drink with me and that you're willing to pour us another drink?"

"I am," I nodded, smiling.

His eyebrows slowly raised, then he looked at Walter. "What is she up to? She just came in here barking at us, looking like she would stab us with the daggers displayed in her eyes. And now she's being nice and wants to pour us both drinks? What are you up to, Aria?" Gunner asked, slowly turning to face me.

"Aria's secretly planning our deaths. I'll bet she's going to slip something into our drinks. That's why she wants to go to bed afterward. She doesn't want to get caught." he paused, then grinned when I looked at him. "I'm okay with that. It's probably my time, anyway." He looked at Aria, pointing. "You make sure you tell that little boy how much I loved him and that I'll be watching and protecting him until his time has expired."

"Oh, stop it," I snapped, snatching the empty glass from Gunner's hand. "I'm not going to kill either one of you. I love you both too much to do something as drastic as you're trying to claim. You want to drink, Walter? Fine. Have a drink. And the same goes for Gunner. If he wants a drink, so be it. I couldn't care less if he had a drink, anyway. I'll just make sure he pays for it later. That's all."

Gunner stood, nervously wrapping his arm around me. And as he looked me in the eye, I saw that he still wasn't sure about my intentions, so I puckered my lips. "Kiss me."

"Is this going to be my last kiss?"

"No," I giggled. "I just want you to kiss me."

"If this isn't my last kiss. How do you want to be kissed? Do you want a peck, a passionate one, or a heated one?"

"Give the beautiful woman a heated yet one hell of a passionate kiss, one with tongue action that has her begging for more," Walter exclaimed quickly, then added, "and don't mind me, I'd be glad to witness your last kiss," he snickered.

Gunner hesitated, then lowered his lips to mine. All I wanted was my lips to feel his. And once they greeted mine, I smiled. "Now, show me where that bottle is."

Gunner's lips twisted, and with an unsure look in his eye, he reluctantly walked me to the kitchen and over to the counter, nervously sighing as he lowered and opened the cabinet door. He reached inside, moved some pots around, grabbed the bottle, and stood, setting it on the counter.

I watched in amazement. As often as I've been in that cupboard, I never saw the bottle once. "I'll put it back to where it was. I promise," I assured, knowing my brother spent good money on it—money he never spends on a bottle of alcohol.

I set the two glasses on the counter, and as I lifted the bottle, Gunner lowered his hand, blocking me from pouring anything. "If you don't want us drinking, don't pour anything."

"Gunner, it's fine. Really," I adamantly assured. "Just because I'm not allowed to drink doesn't mean it's my right to stop you and Walter from taking pleasure in enjoying a few cocktails together. Since your next fight isn't for a while, and because I need to come to the reality that no matter what I do or how much I try to extend Walter's life, I need to realize it is what it is and when it's Walter's time, it's his time. So if he wants to enjoy having some drinks with my husband, I'm not going to stop him from doing so, or you."

He removed his hand from the glasses, then leaned against the counter, grinning. "Would you like to have one with us, then? What Neron doesn't know won't kill him."

"No thanks. Neron would definitely know if I had a drink. You should know him by now, Gunner; that man has got one Hell of a nose and can smell anything. So even if I snuck a sip, he'd know. So no. I'm not going to break his rule again after what he put me through back in Texas."

He pushed himself away from the counter, chuckling. "Well, if you're okay with it, I'll stop questioning your intentions and go back and sit next to Walter."

"All I ask is that you take it easy with Walter and help him to bed when you two are done."

I poured their drinks, put the bottle back where I assumed Gunner had hidden it, then walked back to the two quiet men, still looking worried about why I was allowing them to drink. "Have a good night, boys. Enjoy," I said, handing them their drinks, and then I looked at Gunner. "After you get Walter to bed. I want you to place a glass of water on his nightstand. I know he'll be needing it."

***

I was in the middle of a deep sleep when Gunner stumbled into the bedroom. I opened my eyes, looked at the time, saw it was three in the morning, and then looked over at the man bouncing around the room like the little white ball inside a pinball machine. I watched him for a bit, trying not to alert him that he had awakened me. I wanted to laugh; he tried his damndest to be quiet, but Gunner trying hard not to make a sound only made it worse. Because the quieter he tried being, the noisier he became after stumbling to the ground from him trying to remove his clothes—telling me they most likely polished off the entire bottle of bourbon.

That's fine. Gunner doesn't fight for a few months; Walter needed his fix, and I got to enjoy the entire bed all to myself for a few hours—something Gunner hogs all the time.

I rolled to my side without saying a word, my back facing Gunner when he crawled into bed. He scooted as close as he could, wrapped his arm over me, and pulled me tightly against him. Then he buried his head into the crook of my neck and showered it with kisses. "Thanks, hun," he whispered, goosebumps exploding over my skin—from my ear down to my toes. "We needed that time alone to talk," he continued saying, then carried on, mumbling whatever he was as if he knew I was awake.

I grabbed hold of his hand, tightened his grip around me, and closed my eyes.

The following day, I awoke to Wyatt talking to himself. I reached for the monitor, smiling as I brought it closer to my ear to listen. Wyatt was happy, and he sounded like he was in the best mood he's been in since before he started teething. While listening to Wyatt's cooing, Gunner startled me with a loud snore that I jumped, dropped the monitor, and it bounced onto the ground.

I quickly glanced at Gunner when the snoring stopped, thinking I had awoken him, but when he carried on with the loud rattling noises, I slid out of bed, picked up the monitor, turned it off, and then quietly hurried out of the room to make sure Walter was in bed, that he was doing okay, and to make sure Gunner listened by placing a glass of water on Walter's nightstand.

As I walked down the hallway, I heard Walter's nose singing away, so I stopped at Wyatt's door, peeked my head inside, and since he was still content with talking to his hands, I continued heading to Walter's room. Walter's glass of water was about empty, so not wanting to startle and wake him, I tiptoed over to the nightstand, grabbed his glass, refilled it with water, and then headed to grab Wyatt.

Wyatt was standing, holding himself up with the rail when I entered the room, and when he saw me heading toward him, I instantly melted when he bounced, smiled, and cooed. "Someone's in a good mood this morning," I said, lifting him from the crib. He happily cooed again, so I slid my finger along his gum, and when I felt what I was looking for, I smiled, "It's about time that stubborn tooth poked through," I said, feeling relieved. "How about you and I celebrate while daddy and grandpa Walter sleep? I have a feeling they'll be sleeping for a while."

While feeding Wyatt, my phone rang. Seeing that it was Justin, I tapped to answer, then placed him on speaker. Then, answering, annoyed that he was interrupting my feeding time with Wyatt, "You do know that it's seven in the morning, right?"

"Yes, of course. I know what time it is."

"Then why are you calling so early?" I asked, looking down at Wyatt when he grabbed my chin.

"Are you busy today?"

He should know the answer to that. Every day I'm taking care of a baby and an older one who's like having another baby, not to mention my daily training and workouts, so when aren't I busy?

"Why?"

"Because if you're not. I'm coming over right now to pick you up."

"For what?"

"Because I want to have a brother, sister day. That's why."

"You know I fight tonight, do you not?"

"Yeah, I remember. But there's no need to worry since I'll have you back way before that starts."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

He sighed, "I suppose it could."

I was now extremely curious about this brother-sister day that he's persistent about us having. So I had to ask, "Are you going to tell me why you want this sibling day and where we're going?"

"It's a surprise."

"A surprise," I repeated, rolling my eyes, then groaned, "Of course it is."

"Look at it this way. It's been a while since you and I hung out without someone attached to our hips and a day both you and I need."

He's right. It's been a long time since he and I did anything together without Gunner and Nikki hanging out with us. I looked at Wyatt and shrugged a shoulder. "I guess you're spending the day with daddy and grandpa Walter tomorrow." I leaned down to his face and giggled as I rubbed my nose against his. "Make sure you give them both hell."

I looked back at my phone. "Sounds like a plan... but I better get back to feeding Wyatt, and then, when his belly is full, I need to check on the two grown men who felt the need to get drunk last night."

Justin laughed. "Excellent! Wait... do you mean to tell me the old man got drunk, and you allowed it? Why the Hell wasn't I there to witness this?"

I shook my head, smiling, then frowned after the thought of Walter getting drunk crossed my mind. "Don't feel bad. I missed seeing him getting drunk also," I said, then explained how it all came about. "But I have to go. I'll see you tonight, and then we can talk about tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Okay, sounds good to me. And if I don't see you before you head into the ring, good luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it."

***

The fighting tips the woman gave me that night in Texas while I was in the ladies' room have stuck with me. And everything she told me I needed to do was the exact opposite of what I've been taught and what I've been trained to do—something Gunner has never mentioned or taught me either.

What the woman told me I needed to do wasn't illegal, but it was against everything Neron had instructed me to do, including his rules. But with the position my challenger has me in, I'm about to listen to her tips and upset Neron by breaking his rules. Something that I'm sure I'll pay dearly for later.

As my opponent and I stood face to face, circling the center of the ring, she tried tricking me by faking crossing and then left hooked, something I blocked her from doing. As I continued blocking my challenger's gloves from hitting me, waiting for the right time to show her what I could do, I thought about what I had been taught and what the woman told me I should do. But then she pissed me off by mocking a smile, so instead of showing her the power I have, I threw my punches at her fast.

I heard Neron in the background yelling at me, so I blocked him out. Then she mocked another smile as my fists came at her, so I upped my game by showing her she's nothing and my speed and power. And the moment her fists raised, blocking my punches to her face, instead of giving her one hard shot, I gave her two, knocking her pitiful ass to the ground.

Hell's baby devilishly grinned as she stood, mocking me through her mouth guard as she swung her fist at me. Her voice was muffled, but I still understood what she said. "Nice try, Aria. But there wasn't enough power in those hits."

Wait...

What?

I bounced back, and as I lowered my arms, her fire-red colored gloves came directly to my face, knocking me down.

"What the fuck are you doing, Aria?" Neron yelled. "Get up from the mat and do what you're here to do! Win, damn it. Win!"

Is this the woman who gave me pointers that night?

"Get the fuck up, Aria!" Neron yelled, anger in his eyes while waving his arms in the air.

The referee lowered to his knees and started counting.

There's no way I can have a repeat of what happened in Texas; otherwise, Neron will really have fun with me by working my ass harder than he did after Gunner and I came back to the hotel drunker than skunks. He'll also figure out that I'm losing my matches on purpose—that I can't have. The referee was on count five. Finally, I pushed myself up, faced this Hell's baby bitch, shook off what she said, and got back in the game by showing her my speed and power with my combinations.

What I did to Hell's baby agitated her all right because now she looks pissed and as if she's about to come at me in a vengeance—to punish me for embarrassing her in front of all the spectators surrounding us watching.

The way I look at it is that she just got a taste of the real Aria.

I continued throwing her my jabs, punches, hooks, and combos. All the while doing what Gunner taught me—pushing her towards the ropes and refusing to stop. I swapped from punching her abdomen to her face and then finished Hell's baby off with one hard left-handed uppercut where she dropped like a brick. I was curious to see what she'd do and stayed nearby, bouncing from side to side, looking down and waiting for her to jump up and return to try knocking me down.

The referee dropped to his knees and began the countdown. Every time she pushed up, she'd immediately drop.

"Knockout!" the ref yelled, and I threw my fists into the air.

I lowered to her ear, and with a grin, I mocked, "Was that enough speed and power for you?"

After I stood, the ref walked over to me, raised my arm, and as he announced me as the winner, my eyes dropped down to Hell's baby, and while studying her face, I thought back to the voice I heard in the ladies' room, trying to compare what I heard on the ring. It has to be her. Hell's baby's mouth guard may have muffled the sound of her voice, and I may have been drunk in Texas. But now that I think about her voice after she mocked my punches tonight, I know it's her.

I looked away from Hell's baby and at the crowd, scanning the entire area to see if anyone I knew was watching the fight—as in my father and his wife, Stacey. I know it's been a long time since I last saw them, and I know they're much older now. But that shouldn't stop me from recognizing the two people who hurt my brother and me the most.

Gunner forced his way into the ring, picked me up, threw me up over his shoulders, and happily spun me around, proudly showing everyone that his girl won the fight. Finally, he lowered me from his shoulders, but his mouth crashed on mine before setting me on my feet. "I'm so proud of you, hun. You fought fucking wonderful tonight!"

"Thanks, Gunner," I smiled. "But I don't think Neron's too happy with how I fought."

Gunner laughed. "Don't worry about what he says. If he starts barking at you, just let it go in one ear and out the other. You won, and that's all that matters," he encouraged as we walked to the ring's corner, where Neron was eagerly waiting for me. He looked happy and proud, but I still noticed the look on his face that he was irritated by my fighting style tonight.

"What on earth was that?" Neron growled.

"A win. What do you think it was?" I said, being a smartass, fighting my lips from curving into the smile it wanted to show him.

"Not the win, you wiseass. The way you fought tonight. It was the complete opposite of everything I've trained you to do," he scolded.

"So. I won, didn't I?" I asked as Gunner held the water bottle to my mouth, getting ready to squirt. "I wanted to try something different. And it worked."

Hell's baby finally stood, and as she walked towards her corner, she looked at me, her eyes on mine. "I don't know for sure, but I think she gave me those points that night," I said quietly to Gunner.

Gunner looked at me while discreetly pointing in Hell's baby's direction. "Her?"

I nodded, looked at Neron, then back over at her. "I think so. She commented something to me inside the ring that has me strongly believing it was her. Then again, I don't know," I said, shrugging a shoulder. "I could be wrong, too. But what she said to me is what got me fired up and thinking back to that night. It sounded exactly like her. So I don't know what to think."

Neron urged us to start heading out of the arena and back to the locker room. As we neared Hell's baby standing and talking to her coach, her eyes locked with mine. "Until we meet again," she taunted.

I continued walking without saying a word. I don't know if it's her fighting name, but there was something about her I didn't like. Someone who wants to be called Hell's baby tells me that she wants her challengers to know she came from the devil. I stopped walking, turned around, and studied her face. Yep, she looks like the devil, all right. But I don't think she's Felicia. She looks nothing like my father or that witch, Stacey.

Or does she?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!❤