Me too. I really do. “Do you know where he is?”

If he does, I might be able to fix this. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s at the gym.”

I hug Asher for so long that he writhes in my embrace. Something tells me this is the last time I’ll see him. I hope that something is wrong. I return to my car and wave at him until he disappears into the house.

My next stop is the gym. It takes all of twenty minutes to get in and get out. Ben is not there.

* * *

It is today. The finals.

I contemplate dialing the number on my screen like I have been doing for the last five minutes, but I don’t. Will he come for the match? What if he’s so mad at me that he doesn’t care for the All-Rounder anymore? I swallow the thick lump clogging my throat. It’s crazy how you can go from being enemies to lovers, and now, strangers. Finally growing a pair, I dial Ben’s number.

It rings and rings, but Ben doesn’t answer. I flatten my hand on my knee and allow my thoughts to surround me. Anger builds low in my belly. I did nothing wrong. Ben is the one who picked another girl over me. He should have asked Olivia out if he holds her with so much high regard.

Gosh. I hate that boy.

I roll onto my stomach and scream into my pillow. Ben is hurting me, and he doesn’t care.

What happened to making his Gracie happy and talking out our issues? If he doesn’t care about my happiness, then I shouldn’t care about his. He can fight today all by himself since he can do without me. He is the world’s worst boyfriend. I am tired of begging him when we both fucked up.

My eyelids flutter open at the vibration coming from the bed. I retrieve my phone, my heart beating fast and wild. Is he calling? My heart sinks at the name on my screen. It’s not him. It’s Coach. Is he calling to find out about us? If we win, Coach gets an extra token. I don’t recall the amount.

I clear my throat. “Coach.”

He gets straight to the point. “Are you coming?”

I close my eyes and picture Coach Greyson’s face. I’m doing this for him, not Ben.Liar. “Yes.”

The call ends, and I jump into the shower. Minutes later, I’m driving down to the ring. Ben’s bike is in its usual spot. I roll my eyes and kick the tire like it’s the reason for all my problems.

Music welcomes me into the empty hallway. The song will change to something more metallic when the fights start. I stop in front of the door to my changing room and take a deep breath. We might not have been training together, but I’ve been doing the drills Coach gave me religiously.

If we lose our last match, it will be due to a lack of coordination or communication. A good team is one that communicates. With a soft sigh, I open the door. Coach is on the only couch with his hands behind his head. He looks up at the sound of the door opening, and I try to force my lips into a smile.

“Took you long enough,” he says with a shake of his head like he’s disappointed in me.

I am not late. The match isn’t until an hour, but Coach loves having us here earlier. I join him on the couch, and the air thickens with a foreign feeling. It’s never this awkward between us. I don’t try to diffuse it. Whatever he has to say, let him say it. But I have a feeling it’s about Ben.

“Are you and loverboy good?”

“Yeah.”

Coach’s piercing gaze follows me. He beckons on me to stand, and he does the same. He grabs my shoulders so hard I feel his nails sink into my flesh. I don’t show any signs of pain. “In the ring, it’s you and him against your opponents. Whatever beef you two got, squash it. It must not affect the fight. You got it?” Yeah, I do. He should be telling this to Ben, not me. “Alright, kid.”

I whip out my phone and send Ben a text to let him know I’m here. Whatever happens next is up to him. If he doesn’t reply or come to check on me, I’ll walk away without a backward glance. All-Rounder be damned.

Coach pulls on his gloves and starts me on some punching drills. There’s frustration behind each punch I land on his gloves. Anger too. A little hurt. Thousands of unspoken words. Ben is an ass. A knock distracts me for a moment, and Coach slaps my head gently to get back into the game.

I must never lose focus. No distractions.

The knob finally turns, and the door opens. Ben is here.

Forty-Four

Ben is pacingin my changing room when I enter. He straightens up once he notices me. There is that strange awkwardness that seems to hover over us since we had that fight. I take another step inside and almost run out when he stalks toward me. I know he won’t hurt me, but I’m freaked out.

He is furious, and I’m not sure why. We won. It doesn’t feel like a victory, but that money is ours.