Page 107 of 4th Degree

So I force myself to type out a text that I never let myself think I would ever send. And I think my heart breaks a little as I send it.

Dominic: Hey. I’m sure you’ll see the post and comments at some point, so I wanted to

I delete the message. Fuck, I have no idea what to say here.

Just wanted to reach out and see where your head’s at? See if you still want me, even though this is so much fucking worse than what we were scared of?

I try again.

Dominic: Hey. Give me a call whenever you can. We need to talk.

I hit send before I can second-guess it. But then I realize how cold that sounds, and I type another one.

Dominic: I’m so sorry. About everything. I never wanted you to get hurt in any of this. Pain is the last thing I wanted to bring to your life.

I hesitate, then slowly type another and send.

Dominic: Whatever you want to do, I understand. I’ll support your decision.

And now I just…wait.

I manage to distract myself with a workout, and with watching some fights with Brutus. Though I can’t remember any fighters or any of the results.

Jax comes over at one point to tell me the post got taken down. When I don’t respond with any kind of relief, he tells me he’ll take over teaching classes tonight. That I should go home. But as tempting as that is, I can’t do it. Not just because my pride in being a good coach is the only thing I’m hanging onto for dear life, but also because I know Monday is Skylar’s training day.

And even though I suspect it’s highly unlikely she’ll come in, I can’t bring myself to potentially miss the opportunity to see her.

So, I stay. I stay and I teach my classes, ignoring the occasional whispers and frequent glances. I numb myself to all of it. Because there’s nothing else I can do.

I need to get out of here. I need this day to end. I need out.

By the time I’m driving home, I think I’m done taking hits for the day. But when I walk into my house, I realize there’s one more coming.

Because there’s an email in my inbox from the UFC with the subject line: Hall of Fame Induction Rescinded.

35

SKYLAR

Of course, I saw the post.

I saw the comments, too. As soon as my phone started blowing up with notifications from comments on a tagged photo, I knew something was up. My heart dropped into my stomach before I even opened any of them.

And when I finally did, my heart broke.

“No,” I breathe, clicking through social media and then the Reddit thread on my break at the café. “No, no, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.”

Who did this? Who took those pictures? And why would they want to hurt me?

But then it hits me that I’m not the one who’s being hit right now. I mean, there are a few comments about me being a whore, but I’ve gotten that comment based on an outfit choice—that’s not unusual. What’s bad is the way Dominic is being painted. Dominic is carrying the brunt of this attack.

And it’s so much worse than I thought it would be. I know we talked about what we were risking by being together, but in my head, I only pictured a few judgmental looks and maybe some whispers in the very beginning. I never, ever thought it could be like this. With words like predator and grooming being thrown around, this could very easily be a career-ender for Dominic.

And me? I just get pity. I’m seen as the victim, with no consequences whatsoever.

While Dominic loses his reputation.

How was I ever naïve enough to think I was worth it for him?

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