Page 16 of 4th Degree

“You did it! You fucking did it!”

“I knew you were going to get him with that submission.”

“Did you see the look on his face when you took him down?”

Kane tries to return his teammates’ accolades, but his responses are half-hearted. He only has eyes for his girlfriend.

When he finally reaches Isabella, he gives up on paying attention to anyone else. He sweeps the beautiful dancer into his arms and buries his face in her neck.

She doesn’t seem at all bothered by how sweaty he is, or the fact that they’re the center of attention. Right now, those two seem like they’re the only ones in this arena.

She wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him closer. It’s barely a whisper, but I can hear her murmuring I’m so proud of you over and over again. Kane’s grip around her waist tightens at the words.

When I feel a presence beside me, I look away from the couple’s intimate moment and find Coach standing beside me. He’s got a hint of a smile on his lips as he looks at Kane, and then at his other fighters who are still excitedly chattering away around him.

“You look like a proud dad,” I comment with a smile of my own.

He lets out a sound of agreement. “Some days I feel like one. I don’t know what it’s like to have kids of my own, but I want to imagine it feels something like this.”

Warmth blossoms in my chest. He’s such a good coach.

“They love you, too, you know,” I tell him quietly, so no one else can hear. I might be overstepping my brand-new boundaries, but I’m a firm believer that people should be told they’re loved and appreciated as often as possible.

“They’re a good group.” He sends a glance my way, smiling fondly. “We’re lucky to have you be a part of it.”

That warmth spreads to every piece of my soul that’s been cooled for so long. Being a part of something I love—being a part of it with these people—is bringing me alive in a way I didn’t know was possible.

Coach’s expression softens when he sees mine. But he doesn’t comment on it, just squeezes my hand with the tiniest, quickest touch and says, “I’m glad you came out tonight, Skylar.”

My hand is still tingling when he turns and walks away. I knew when I signed up at the gym that Coach Dominic is a talented, respectable coach, but I never thought about who he might be outside of that label.

And as I watch him leave, I wonder if I’m entirely unprepared for the type of man he is.

7

SKYLAR

If I thought I was hyped about training before, it's nothing compared to how I feel on the Monday after the fights. Between Kane's lightning-quick takedown and the knockout that ended the main event, I'm itching to get back in the gym to practice those moves.

My night starts with the cardio kickboxing class, which has me depleting my restless energy. By the end of the forty-five-minute bag work class, I've completely sweat through my shirt and my legs shake from the exertion.

Still, it's not enough to keep me from taking jiu-jitsu. Or from ducking away to the heavy bag room after so I can work on the techniques from the fights. I move over to the open mat space beside the heavy bags to start with Kane’s takedown.

Taking up a wrestling stance, I shoot forward for the takedown, lowering one knee to get low as I mimic wrapping up someone’s legs. But even doing it by myself, I can tell I’m not low enough. I make sure my knee touches the ground as I shoot forward during my next rep.

Unfortunately, I end up almost faceplanting in the process. I barely catch myself with my hands on the mat.

I let out a huff of annoyance. But then I’m back up and trying it again.

And again, I’m falling forward at the end of it.

“It’s because you’re leaning forward.”

I spin toward the door and see Coach at the top of the steps, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

My cheeks burn instantly. Partly because I’m embarrassed he caught me messing up, but also because I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I look like a hot mess. I’m drenched in sweat and my hair probably looks like a bird set up shop in it. Yet there he stands, like he just walked out of a Sports Illustrated photoshoot.

Seriously, who looks like that after a two-hour workout?

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