“Actually, I’ll let you deliver the good news.” I recognize my brother Lucas’s voice instantly. Which makes sense, because he’s also my manager. “I’m running into a meeting with a client.”
My coach frowns down at his phone. “At nine p.m.?”
“Lucas swears by his late night, scotch-fueled closures,” I explain as I reach for the phone. Then, to my brother, “Goodbye, Lucas.”
I hang up before he can come back with whatever quip he was waiting with, looking expectantly at my coach. “So, what’s up?”
His grin is gigantic. “Lucas got you a fight.Thefight.”
For the second time tonight, I have to swallow a sigh. I should’ve guessed that was the news, just based on his excitement level.
I really am off my game.
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Against who?”
Somehow, his grin grows. “Pete Hanson.”
I let out an appreciative whistle. Lucas has been working on that one for almost two years at this point. “Damn. When?”
“Two months. You’re fighting at the Garden.”
Holy shit. Lucas really did work his charm.
Fighting at Madison Square Garden has always been a dream of mine. Add to that a perfectly matched opponent and the fact that it’s close to home, and it’s pretty much the ideal matchup. Plus, it might be the most important fight of my career.
But do I even care?
I try to shoo that thought away. Now is not the time to go down that rabbit hole. Turning my attention to my coach again, I ask, “Knowing Lucas, I’m assuming he already set up some extra training sessions for me next week. Are we focusing on improving my wrestling like we always planned on for this fight?”
He snorts. “Pretty sure he was setting them up as we were on the phone. Your brother is another breed.” Then, he pauses, thinking over my question for a moment. “Two months isn’t nearly as much time as I’d like for your fight camp, but Lucas said you’d want to make that sacrifice for the Garden.”
I simply nod.
“I know I don’t need to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway: you’re going to need to buckle down for this fight, Nico.”
Another stiff nod. “I know.”
If he notices my lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t comment on it. Hopefully, he just thinks I’m shifting into work mode.
“You know the drill when it comes to your training, but…” His hesitation makes me frown.What is he trying not to say?“I think you should relax with the social life, too.”
Social life…? I barely ever go out, even when I don’t have a fight coming up. The only people I hang out with are my brothers and?—
His unspoken comment suddenly hits me. “You mean with dating.”
“I didn’t know how to say that in another way,” he says with a wince. Then he sobers and looks me in the eye. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re getting older; maybe your friends are starting to settle down and get married… I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave the bachelor life behind. But it’s clearly eating up more mental energy than you can afford with this fight lined up.”
“That’s not true,” I argue, albeit weakly. “They’re just dinner dates. There’s zero energy expended.”
He gives me a knowing lift of his eyebrow. “Yeah? Is that why you walked in here looking like someone just beat you five rounds to none?”
You can’t hide anything from coaches.
I blow out a heavy breath. “Alright, fine. I had a shitty first date.”
He sighs and leans back against the reception desk. “Maybe a break from dating would be good for you. I mean, don’t they say you find your person when you stop looking?”
“That’s a stupid saying, Coach.”
