Page 27 of Brutal Boxer

“That would actually be hilarious,” Lynx yelled through the door, banging on it. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a pussy. You’ll have to tell me what it’s like.”

Motherfucker.

8

Boxer

The harsh fluorescent lights burned my retinas as I waited in the locker room for my fight. The gray walls were closing in, suffocating me.

Ire and the guys had left twenty minutes ago. Wolf hung back with me. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t worried Ire would get the crap beat out of him. With my lack of focus, I might too.

Not even my favorite get-me-into-the-zone playlist settled me. The music sounded like static filtering into my eardrums.

It was a damn shame if Led Zeppelin didn’t do shit for me.

Sweat beaded down my forehead, my pulse beating faster than usual. I removed my headphones to listen to the crowd upstairs. They were crazy loud and wild. It must’ve been an exciting fight. I hoped Ire had his mojo back.

I cut my gaze at Wolf. His pensive expression bordered on ill. He didn’t think I was ready for this.

The truth was, I wasn’t. I blamed Aspen for fucking with my head in less than twelve hours.

I needed to purge her from my memory. Pound out some frustration onto my opponent and get pounded back. That was what this fight had been about for years. An attempt to get Aspen out of my head.

It never worked.

Call off the match before you kill yourself.

Fisting my hands, I shook the warning out of my head and stood with resolve. Maybe I really had lost my mind.

“Are you sure about this?” Wolf’s question broke my concentration.

“Yes.”

He let out a frustrated huff. “You can call off the fight. There’s still time.”

“No.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Neither do I.

“It’s happening.” I shot him a pointed, don’t-fuck-with-me look.

“Then let’s go.” Wolf’s shoulders sagged as he exited the locker room.

I refused to back out. No matter how unsure I felt, I wasn’t a quitter or a coward. The irony knocked me upside the head…

I had been a coward when I refused to see Aspen. Her motherfucking boyfriend had choked her. Handcuffed her to a bed. She could’ve died…

No matter how much I tried to not want her, I did. And I hated it.

She’d never want me back or give me the time of day. Not sure why I was thinking this shit minutes before my biggest fight of the year.

I sure as hell didn’t need Aspen Crosby.

The rowdy crowd did nothing to get my adrenaline pumping. I didn’t see white. I didn’t snarl like a rabid dog, ready to plow down my opponent, tearing him to shreds.

This match was a horrible idea.

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