Page 44 of Off Balance

Maybe it’s not my business. Maybe I should leave it alone. But I can’t. I can’t let go of these feelings that have thrown me so off balance since the moment I locked eyes on him.

I know this whole thing is fucked up, and wrong in so many ways. He’s so young. He’s Dwayne’s stepson. The fact that he’s a man is honestly low on the list of things to worry about.

It’s just…him.There’s something about him that speaks to my vital organs in a way that I didn’t know was possible. It’s visceral. And the need to protect him is overwhelming.

"Whoa! Dom! Slow down there, brother!"

A hand touches my shoulder, and I instinctively flinch back, ready to turn and fight. Dwayne holds up his hands like he's settling a wild beast. A wave of dizziness overtakes me, and I have to bend over and rest my hands on my knees, letting my breaths and heart rate slow down. The dizziness recedes, but not completely.

One of the other guys, an upcoming middleweight fighter named Kody, comes to stand by the bag I was just taking my frustrations out on. "You alright, man?" I look up to see him staring at the bag, which is steadily leaking sand.

Dwayne shakes his head, gesturing for me to stand up. "Come on, Dom. Let's go back to my office and ice your knuckles."

Choosing to ignore Dwayne murmuring something to Kody under his breath as I walk towards his office, I push inside and plop down hard on the sofa.

"Don't take my couch out too," Dwayne says, wincing at the sound of the furniture protesting.

"Sorry," I grumble, trying to get my bearings.

"It'll be alright," he says soothingly, sounding like our mother. I resist rolling my eyes when he nudges me to sit up and takes the spot next to me, reaching to unwrap my hands.

"I'm fine." Except the room is spinning.

"Clearly. You wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

"How about you do it, anyway?"

I watch as he removes the wraps from both my hands, feeling around my knuckles. I don't feel any pain, but then again, I can barely feel anything right now.

"You'll be bruised, but I don't think you did any lasting damage." There's a knock at the door, and Kody steps inside with a small stack of ice packs.

"Thanks," I say to his back as he leaves. He gives me a short nod before closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with my brother again.

Dwayne waits expectantly for me to start talking while he wraps the ice bags around my knuckles, which are already starting to swell. I might not feel it now, but I have a feeling I will later. I'll have to give my hands a rest for the remainder of the week if I want to make it to the fight next weekend. I was feeling pretty good about it, but these last few days some of my old symptoms have been creeping back up. I keep hoping it's a fluke and that I can push through it, but maybe I'm overdoing it. I don't want to admit that I have limits—apparently physicallyandemotionally. Who knew?

Dwayne's eyes meet mine, their dark color the only trait we share, inherited from our mother. His look kind and concerned,where I tend to come off gruff and unfeeling. I try to play on that now, but it doesn't work on my brother. We might have spent the last ten years apart, but he's always been able to see through me.

"What's got you so upset, little bro?"

I lift an eyebrow at him, but this time he doesn't laugh or joke around with me. He's serious, leaning back on the edge of his desk, arms crossed and staring me down.

"I think the pressure is just getting to me," I say, keeping it simple and to the point.

"Nah, something's changed. Last week you were thriving and making huge improvements. Now you're moodier than you were when you first arrived, and you're making mistakes because of it. Mistakes that could get you hurt."

"I just need to slow down a little?—"

"This isn't physical, Dom. This is mental. Something's crawled up your ass. Either you're going to start seeing a therapist, or you're going to talk it out. Tell me what's been bothering you."

What do I even say? How do I sayI've developed a crushing obsession with your stepson and he's ghosting mewithout hurting my relationship with my brother and his wife, but also without telling Cam's secrets?

"Has Cam been home much?" I blurt.

Not exactly a smooth avoidance of the subject, dumbass.

He frowns. "No, but we rarely see him during the rehearsal period before a new production."

---