My head was in a million different places. The fight. Upholding the image of the club. Fuck even Amelia and her working so damn much. She was the one that needed the break, her dark circles were coming back, those bright eyes of hers felt like they were dimming. She’d been eating less, sleeping little.
My phone dinged from the corner, seeing that there was an email awaiting me. When I opened it, I saw a little light at the end of this dark tunnel. At least, a step in Amelia and my future.
A house. A house that Amelia had dreamed about, everything she had said in those woods. Maybe not everything, but one I know she could picture herself creating a life for us in it. I was going to surprise her once the chaos settled and we weren’t looking over our shoulders.
I could see her barefoot in the kitchen with a ring on her hand, snacking on whatever her little heart had desired. A small dog, or maybe a big one that would be under our feet. Maybe a littleone sleeping through their nap. Amelia dancing around as if no one was watching. Maybe even my girl waiting for me in bed, waiting for me to wake her up again, asking me to fill her with my cum. The more I thought about it, the more it was impossible for my hard on to calm the fuck down.
With one click of a button, I sent in my agreement and waited until I could get the keys.
“Hey, boss,” a voice called me.
I turned to see a pieced-together Dillon, who should have been in bed at the clubhouse. Ever since he was released, Hound Dog gave him a room that he shared with Blaze for the time being. Once Hound Dog heard, and maybe with a little encouragement from his lady, Dillon was given a home until he could figure out what was next.
“I believe the doctor’s orders were for you to be resting, not up and moving.” I smiled, walking towards him.
“They also said that I needed to at least walk and move,” he fought back.
“What’re you doing here, kid?”
“Needed to come back to the gym. I’m going stir crazy and my dad has been blowing up my phone.”
“He can fuck off.”
“You want to tell him that?” He chuckled.
“Seriously, what are you doing here?”
He dropped his gaze, then looked around the gym. “This has been a safe space for me. A place to express anger, happiness, joy, even sadness. You give everything you do here. I don’t know, maybe I just feel lost.”
“Yeah, I have a place like that.”
“Maybe I was driven by guilt.”
“Not this shit again, Dillon. It’s not your fault. Drop it,” I urged him. Keeping any kind of guilt is a recipe for self-destruction, whatever that looks like for people.
“Maybe I can help you?” he asked, more like offering.
I scoffed. “Help me? Junior, you ain’t at the level I am.” I almost laughed.
“Yeah, I think I could help you. You know the last time we squared off, you landed in the emergency room,” he gloated.
“Oh. Go ahead and rub salt in that wound.” I gently shoved him.
He grinned. It was good to see him on his feet, moving around. I’d love to see him back in the ring, but with nerve damage, we weren’t sure how that would happen. Amelia said to not give up hope. I wanted to believe that, but I’d seen injuries like that and how people recovered, some were never the same.
“Help me during the next round of sparring, and we’ll go from there.”
He nodded as Hank called me back to the ring. Dillon stood by the corner, waiting for the sparring to begin. I needed this. I needed to know that everything would play out just fine.
Rico, one of the advanced fighters we had at the gym, approached the other side of the ring, getting instruction from Hank.
Rico had been an equal match in size, weight, and agility. The only thing that differed was age, he was way younger than me, his recovery time was better.
“Do you even know who you’re fighting?” Dillon asked from the side.
“No idea, but I’m not taking chances. Knowing what we know about your fight, there is no direct way to prepare. They’ll fight dirty. But they underestimated one thing, kid,” I said finishing putting my gloves on.
“What’s that?”
