Page 68 of Filthy and the Beast

I spit my mouth guard out. “Fucking hell, you’re good.”

Nat laughs. “And you’re out of practice.”

World still ringing from the blows, I shake my head. “You’re better than me. Have been for a while.”

She gives me a cocky shrug. “If you say so, Uncle En,” she teases.

I tear the Velcro of the gloves open with my teeth. “Thanks for beating the shit out of me, by the way.”

“Hey, you’re taking my training to the next level. It’s exactly what I needed.” Grinning, she pulls her hand wrap off. “Didn’t think you’d be able to go so long. You sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard?”

I chug some water. “I’m working through some things.”

I know one way to solve problems: boxing. But the single-minded focus on getting in shape again is harder and harder to maintain.

Too many other distractions. No career waiting for me on the other side.

“Something up with Damian?” she asks.

I lean back on the ropes. Of course she goes straight there.

“How bad you got it?” she asks.

I pull the last of the sweaty wrap off my hand. “Bad.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Can’t.” I shake my head. “We’re exclusive. Not fucking anyone else.” Guilt twists in my gut.

Nat raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that good?”

“Yes. No.” I fucking hate words. “He’s got a full life. This new job he loves. He’s taking a class on how you put flowers in a vase, going to audit another one at the college.” I shake my head. “He’s young. What am I doing, wasting his time? Telling him I want more wouldn’t be fair.”

The questions have plagued me since our conversation the other day. At first, knowing he didn’t want to fuck anyone else felt like a huge relief. But the more I consider the way he talks about his sex life, the more I doubt I can give him what he needs, in bed or out.

“You’re not wasting his time. Did he say something that made you think that?”

“No. He said he’s satisfied.”

She laughs. “That’s good to know.”

I furrow my brow. “It’s not that easy.” She gives me an exasperated look, like I’m being difficult for no reason again, and I spit out my next excuse. “It’s my health.”

Her smile falls. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ll be too old to fight soon. Sometimes, my injuries from decades ago start smarting again.” I grit my teeth. “And I’ve got a pain or something in my chest.”

“Have you seen a doctor?” Nat asks, suddenly dead serious.

“I’ve got my physical coming up,” I tell her.

“How long has this been bothering you?”

“It’s not like that,” I object, mainly because I don’t want to think about it. “I’ll see my guy, and he’ll tell me that I have to take a fucking pill or stop eating salt or some bullshit. The point is I’m an old guy without much of a future. I can’t burden Damian with that.”

“Feelings for someone aren't a burden. It sounds like he probably has feelings for you, too. And you’ll never know if something more is possible if you don’t talk to him.” Her forehead wrinkles. “What does the chest pain feel like?”

I lay my hand over my chest. “Tingly. It hurts, but not bad. More like someone punched me a lot here, but yesterday.” She raises an eyebrow; I’m not making sense. “Hard to breathe sometimes. Maybe my face feels warm, too.”

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