Page 21 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
If I lose, it’s over for both things.
Don will drop me, move on to some other fighter with more grit.
Catherine won’t want anything to do with a loser who has no job, no fights, and no place to live. I’ll be out on my ass witha little extra cash in my pockets—that’s it. That’s why I push myself. That’s why I put up with being on the verge of puking every waking moment…
I can’t lose.
Tomorrow is my first day off from training. I should sleep all day. Eat, sleep, repeat. Really, though, all I want to do is spend some time getting to know Catherine. By the time she gets home from her last client, I’m so exhausted I can barely focus, forced to bed early by her father’s demands.
I always have some dinner waiting for her, though. It feels good to serve her in some small way. When I sleep, I feel her there in the other room. It brings me comfort I’ve never known.
Someone is training out in the gym.
I shuffle out from the locker room, sweater on and hood up, barely keeping my bag on my shoulder. Don and Ricky are gone, and I’m glad for it. I don’t need any of their bullshit right now. It’s almost midnight.
The one person I want to see is dancing around a bag, landing quick jabs.
I drop my duffel and smile. “So, The Blizzard’s daughter can throw a punch. Not surprising.”
“You may have kicked my brother’s ass, but don’t mess with therealfighter in this family.”
“Yeah? Catherine Winters is the real deal?” I laugh, stepping behind the bag to hold it for her. “I thought boxing was just killing brain cells?”
“Only if you get hit. Next time, spare Ricky the shot to the head—he hasn’t got too many left.”
I feel the impact of her shots through the bag. Her form is perfect, using the coil and snap of her leg to drive her hips through the punch. Everything about her is perfect.
She steps back, catching her breath.
“You know,” she says, “you’re the only person who calls me Catherine.”
“Really? It’s your name.”
“Everyone calls me Cat. My dad and my brother call meCatty—they know I hate it. My mom called me Catherine…”
I hug the bag, holding her gaze. “What happened to her?”
“She died,” Catherine grunts, slamming the bag.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t even get to have parents.”
“Yeah, but I think losing them after you loved them is probably worse.”
She stops, hands on her hips, smiling at me.
“Do you want me to call you Cat?” I ask.
“No,” she says casually. “I like that you call me Catherine.”
Her body winds up before delivering four quick strikes that make my blood boil. I can’t help but want to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers.
“Not bad.” I smile. “A little slow, but not bad.”
She stops, wiping some hair from her eyes. “I’m not wearing gloves. Don’t wanna go full speed.”
“Sure. Sure.”
