Page 4 of 4th Degree

Even with the little I know about her, I’m not surprised that she asks. Normally, I would say no. This is the invite-only fighter-specific training session, and I don't need students trying out the advanced stuff I teach before they've reached the correct level of skill. And if Tristan were here, I would definitely say no, as his status in the UFC guarantees that I need to keep his training private. But Tristan's training at the boxing gym tonight, and Skylar's expression is so hopeful that I find I don't want to deny her.

“I don't want to see you try any of this on your own,” I say brusquely. “These are advanced moves that need to be practiced safely. This is just to watch.”

Her nod is quick. And the smile taking over her face makes me feel good about my decision.

I point toward the chairs on the far side of the room where they’re lined up along the mat. “Take a seat, and I don’t want to hear a peep from you while I’m teaching.”

“Yes, Coach,” comes her bubbly reply. And then she’s hurrying around the mat to take her place in one of the seats.

“Alright, we’re doing offense versus defense drills today,” I call out to my fighters, forcing my attention back to the class. “Partner up. We’re starting with boxing.”

My fighters separate into pairs, and as I wait for them to ready for the round, I chance a glance back at Skylar. She’s riveted by the class; there’s no other way to describe her expression. It doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.

What is it with this girl?

We get a lot of different kinds of people signing up at the gym, for a variety of reasons. Some want to fight, some want to get healthier, a lot want to learn a new sport. I make it a point to talk to every new student, not just to keep my finger on the pulse of my gym, but to also understand people’s motivations. It helps me cultivate the kind of environment and program that people want.

But looking at Skylar… I have no idea why she’s here. I believe she’s always wanted to try the sport, but there’s something deeper driving her level of excitement.

I study her for a moment. Based on the backpack full of books, she’s clearly young, though she doesn’t carry herself that way. But it’s her appearance that I let myself take in.

The red hair is the first thing I noticed when she walked in. Then when she looked at me, my attention went straight to those green eyes, the spattering of freckles over her creamy skin, the sparkle of excitement that lit her gaze as she looked around the gym. She’s skinny enough that I don’t think she has much muscle on her, or has ever done any kind of sport, but that didn’t stop her through Jax’s intro class. She put everything she had into every move.

Which takes my brain right back to wondering why she’s so into this, while also being impressed.

“Coach, you gotta hit the timer.”

Aiden’s voice breaks through my thoughts. When I turn to look at him, his grin is shameless as always.

“Just for that, Reeves, we’re going no timer today.”

The entire gym groans at the knowledge that there will be no end in sight to these rounds. That they’ll only be over when I say they are.

I don’t miss one of the fighters, Remy, punching Aiden in the arm way harder than necessary. But I do ignore his yelp and the glare he sends her in return.

“Get to work. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I watch the pairs as they start to work the drill. Walking around the gym, I make small adjustments here and there, giving everyone at least one thing to work on, but not more than that. Teaching is a delicate balance of instruction. Not too much commentary, not too little. Not too harsh, but also not too soft.

“Remy, your combos look good, but you’re waiting too long between them. Pick up the urgency.”

“Max, I want you to work on your footwork the entire class. Your sole focus today should be on not staying glued to the same spot. Move more.”

“Lucy, I see you’ve been working on that cross. Nice work. Keep it up.”

Only when I see everyone improve on my instructions do I call the end of the round and have them switch roles. And then we do it all over again.

The class becomes a blur, just as it always does. I’ve been teaching for almost two decades and I can’t remember a time that I didn’t get completely sucked into a lesson. I started teaching because it was an easy way to train for free—teach in exchange for a free membership—but at some point, I fell in love with helping others achieve their goals. And when I quit fighting, it was a healthy way to keep my love for the sport alive.

By the time the two hours are up, we’re all exhausted—the fighters physically, me mentally.

I disappear into my office to finish some admin work while the fighters clean themselves up after their workout. It doesn’t take long for the gym to empty completely. When it finally does, I quickly shower and change into street clothes. Then I take an Uber to my favorite cigar bar in the city.

My friend Pete is already waiting for me when I arrive. As soon as I climb the steps to the second-floor lounge, I see him sitting on one of the couches.

“Hey, man,” I greet with a fist bump. Nodding toward the cigar in his hand, I take my coat off and settle in the seat across from him. “What’d you pick?”

He studies the dark cigar. “I went with the Perdomo Champagne Noir today. It’s not bad.”

---