Page 53 of 4th Degree

So, whether Dominic is getting ready to end things or not, I need to end things.

Sucking in a deep breath, I knock on the doorframe of Dominic’s office.

He turns around from where he’s digging through a box of gym T-shirts. As soon as he sees me, his throat bobs on a rough swallow.

“Hey,” he says, his voice tight.

“Hey. Umm, mats are done. Gym’s all clean for you.”

Dominic gives me a stiff nod and drops the shirt in his hand back into the box.

“Skylar, I think we should?—”

“The other night was a mistake,” I blurt out.

His eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn’t contradict me. It’s enough of an opening for me to continue.

“We’re both adults. We can be honest about what this is and isn’t. And the truth is, that night was amazing, especially after a month of should-we-shouldn’t-we, but it’s not something that can ever happen again. We both have our reasons.”

Goddamnit, his expression is always so unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s relieved, or sad, or if he agrees with me. And he’s not saying anything.

Nerves bubble in my stomach. I just want this over with—I want to get all of this out, and then I want to go home.

The rest of the words tumble from my lips, each one tripping over the last. “It’s a bad idea for both of us. You, because you’re my coach and clearly you don’t like mixing business and pleasure, and me, because my life is already a shitshow that needs my full attention. I don’t have time to add even a physical relationship into it. So, I think it would be better if we just went back to coach and student. You don’t need to worry about me making anything weird. I promise I’ll go back to being the annoying student who asks too many questions. It’ll be like nothing ever happened between us.”

Throughout my entire speech, Dominic doesn’t let on to what he’s thinking. There’s only a flash of something at the very end—something that resembles hurt. But it’s there and gone so quickly, I’m sure I imagined it.

There’s no way he wanted a relationship with me. He doesn’t strike me as the type that only wants sex, but the thought of him wanting to date me is equally laughable. I’m a nobody with too much baggage.

“So…yeah. Deal?” I awkwardly stick out my hand, as if we’re really going to shake on a no more fucking agreement.

To my surprise, he takes a step closer. But he doesn’t shake my hand yet, he just studies me in that all-seeing way of his.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” he asks in a deliciously deep voice. Half of me wants to say fuck no, I changed my mind just from the sound of it.

But I force myself to nod. My feelings before I stepped into this room were the honest-to-God truth—the fact that Dominic’s presence makes me want to melt into a puddle can’t detract from that.

Another flash in his eyes, but he’s gripping my hand before I can question it.

“Okay, then,” he says, shaking my hand once, and then stepping away, as if he was scared to touch me for longer than necessary. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll honor it. We’ll go back to Coach and Skylar.”

God, I’m a mess. Hearing him say that hits me like a stab to my stomach. And then it swirls with the guilt of sacrificing my family for a man, and the emotional concoction makes me about ready to throw up. I need out of here.

“Great, I’m glad we talked that out,” I say hurriedly. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then? I’ll be here for open mat.”

He only nods in answer. I manage to send him a stiff smile, and then I’m awkwardly waving my goodbye and disappearing through the front door.

For the next three weeks, I only train at the gym two nights a week.

Ending things with Dominic was only the first of my attempts to eliminate anything selfish from my schedule: training also fell under that category. And if I hadn’t committed to cleaning two nights a week, I probably would have convinced myself that I needed to quit entirely. But because of that verbal contract with Dominic, I justified being at the gym for a few hours on nights I wasn’t working.

Dominic honors the distance between us. It’s almost sad how easily we go back to coach and student, how natural it feels. On the rare occasion, I think I catch a flash of regret in his eyes when his stare lingers a few beats too long, but for the most part, he treats me like any other athlete.

I keep my distance from the fighters, too. They either don’t notice the change, or they’re ignoring it, because Remy and Lucy make plenty of attempts to pull me into their conversations. I can usually start cleaning before they try, but tonight, I’m too slow getting into the cleaning closet.

“Hey, Skylar,” Lucy calls. “You coming to Aiden’s fight at the end of the month?”

I shake my head, feeling robotic in my answer. “Can’t. I have to work.”

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