What the hell is going on? Am I missing something?

Sky brushes across Bonnie’s cheek, then takes a very obvious deep breath. She points my way without looking, and I duck. I’m not going to be caught being interested. But even though I’m pissed, hurt, and everything in between, I’d kill to be a fly on that wall, learning exactly what they’re fucking talking about.

Since that’s not possible, I go for a run, work out until I can barely function, then pass out. Work and working out keep me busy until Wednesday. I ask for tomorrow off, offering to work Saturday instead.

Standing in front of my dad’s desk in the hot, barely fanned-off trailer, Dad looks me over and shakes his head. “No fucking way.”

I gape. “What?”

“This job comes first, not your hobby.”

“It’s not a hobby, Dad. I can’t make it back to the league if I don’t dedicate myself to—”

You’re lucky I don’t have you working six days a week. You need to learn the value of dedication tothis job. Of putting your nose to the grindstone and keeping it there. I don’t care how the fight goes; you’re coming in tomorrow.”

When I continue to stare, he shoos me out of the office. I take a slow breath, then another and another. Tyler pulls me to the side and offers me a cigarette, then a blunt. I reject both. I have to be clean to fight.

“Sorry, man. The boss runs a tight ship, and he doesn’t let shit slide. Me and the guys are still going to come to support you. Ken and Nate are excited.”

“I’m probably going to fight like shit.”

“Well, you look like shit, but either way, we get some violence and beer. What could be better?”

I give him a high five, and we slug through work. I stand in the locker room later in the day, staring at myself in the mirror. My silky shorts nearly brush my knees as I curl my taped hands into fists. I kind of want to take out this mirror, say fuck this fight, and go find some back ally where there are no rules.

Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead against the cool glass and try to remember what I need for the fight, nothing else. I hit my toe against the floor. Focus on the footwork, use my left if their guard is down. Duck and play defense as needed instead of just going all out. Use my anger instead of letting it use me.

“Use my anger. Don’t let it use me,” I repeat out loud.

I hear a camera click and look over, seeing Sky. Her hair is tamed in a braid or mostly tamed, but there are plenty of locks escaping. She looks away from me and glances at the photo.

“I told you not to come,” I growl, despite my heart dancing in my chest.

Her head lifts, and I see the remorse in her eyes. I harden my resolve. “I wanted to talk to you,” she mutters.

“Doesn’t that break the agreement you made with your best friend?” I push off the mirror and grab my gloves. “I don’t have time to talk.”

“I talked to Bonnie.”

“I’m sure you did. Probably didn’t drag her into your house to fuck her.” The sound of the Velcro tearing apart calms me a fraction, but just a fraction. “I get it. We’re done. You want to finish the job. Cool. Doesn’t mean we’re going to spend time together, hang out, whatever.”

“Now you’re assuming?” She scoffs.

“I’m saying what’s obvious, something youneverdo.” I turn around as I stuff my hand in the glove. She takes another picture but doesn’t answer. I nod. “It was my mistake thinking you wanted more than a dick to practice with.”

“I never said that was what I wanted!” she yells at me.

“Well, what do you want, Sky? You don’t want a relationship, you don’t want more friends, you don’t want just sex. You need to figure that shit out before you start involving other people.” I hit the locker next to her, and she gasps, nearly dropping her camera. I take a slow breath as I watch her lips tremble. “Because you’re not the only one that’s fucking hurt right now.”

“Ash.”

“Don’t fucking start with me. When you figure out what you want, call me. Until then, do what Bonnie tells you to do, follow along, play the submissive role like you do with everyonebutme.”

I storm away from her, walk into the ring, and get my ass handed to me. It’s a shit performance on my part and definitely not something I can afford. But I last all the rounds, and he’s the top guy in this area and weight class.

He offers me his glove, and I give him a fist bump. “Not bad, kid. Just get your head back in the game.”

“Easier said than done,” I pant.