Fuck.
I can’t go over there in my current state. I’ll say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing, and then there’ll be no recovering from it. But I can’t do anything else, either. I won’t be able to focus on training when I can hardly breathe and it feels like a hand is squeezing my heart. In fact, the only thing that might help me right now is liquor. A whole lot of it. Fight camp be damned.
Going to the cabinet, I find a bottle of gin and open it.
Half a dozen gin and tonics—heavy on the gin—later, I fall asleep.
Bzzt.My phone vibrates, and I swear it sounds angry. I ignore it. It’s probably Jase or Devon. I’ve had five messages from each of them since I failed to turn up to training this morning. They’re probably taking turns to contact me. I don’t give a shit. I’m huddled in bed with my phone, scrolling through photos of Sydney and me.
There she is, wearing her graduation robe, eyes bright, my arm around her. God, the way we’re leaning into each other makes it so obvious that we both wanted more, but neither of us were brave enough to take a risk. How long did we deprive ourselves of love by being too blind and scared to do anything about it?
And there she is after my first fight. My cheek is swollen, nose bleeding, and I’m covered in sweat, but she didn’t let that stop her from hugging me like I’d won a title bout. Scrolling some more, I find a photo of her at our junior prom. We didn’t go together because I was going through a selfish-bastard phase and blew her off every time a pretty girl batted her eyelashes, but she stuck with me anyway. She was beautiful that day, in a pastel pink dress, arm in arm with my friend Max—the only guy I trusted not to get handsy with her. Back then I may not have viewed her as a woman, but other boys at school sure as hell did, and they all knew if they messed with her, I’d break their faces. For that night, Max treated her like a goddamned princess. The way I should be treating her now that we’re together.
“Fuck,” I mutter, feeling like a piece of shit.
Someone thumps on the door, and I ignore them, huddling deeper into the blankets. At least one good thing has come of this: I’ve caught up on my rest.
A key slides into the lock and footsteps pound down the hall toward my bedroom. The door flies open and I shield my eyes from the sudden light.
“What the hell?” Through the glare, I can make out Jase and Devon. “Fuck off, assholes.”
“Bro, what is going on with you?” Jase demands, striding to the curtains and tearing them open. “We haven’t seen or heard from you since Saturday. You’ve been ignoring our texts, Seth is spitting fucking nails, and your dad is going to have an aneurism. He says he’s called and come by and you haven’t answered the phone or the door. You’re lucky he didn’t break in. Valentina told him to be patient.” His eyes go to the gin on the dresser, and his jaw tenses. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yeah,” I admit, because he can probably smell it in the air anyway. I haven’t drunk myself stupid, but a few G&Ts go a long way when you haven’t touched the stuff in ages.
“Seth is gonna kick your ass,” Devon says a little too gleefully. “If Tomas doesn’t do it first.” Seeing the phone on the bed, he snatches it up and smiles when he spots the photo of Sydney, Max, my date, and me at junior prom. “Wow, would you look at this?” He thrusts the phone at Jase. “Gabe had a baby mustache. Don’t know how you hooked the girls with that caterpillar on your lip.”
But as Devon chuckles to himself, Jase’s gaze flicks to the photograph and then sharpens. “Something happened with Sydney?” he asks, seeing through me in an instant.
I guess it’s easy to recognize woman-induced moping when you’ve been through the same thing yourself. Not that Jase ever wallowed in his bed. He directed his energy into winning his next fight. Unfortunately for me, my next fight is a good part of the problem. If not for that, and the responsibility I have to my father, I wouldn’t have done anything to make Sydney feel like I don’t care.
Sitting up, I reach for the glass of water on the cabinet beside my bed and take a gulp, moistening my dry throat. “I think we might be on a break. I’m a little foggy on exactly where we stand.”
“Oh, hell,” Devon exclaims, slapping me on the back. “I’m sorry, man. What happened?”
“The wedding,” Jase says, understanding dawning on his face.
Wincing, I ask, “You knew?”
He shrugs. “Lena said she was doing something with Sydney on Saturday. Didn’t tell me ahead of time, but she might have mentioned it when she got home that night.”
“Wait.” Devon’s eyes widen. “Syd dumped you because you couldn’t go to some wedding with her? That’s rough.”
“It’s not just that,” I admit. “I’ve been late or missed so many things because of training that I think she reached a hard limit.” Slowly, I lever myself out of bed. I’m wearing boxers, so they don’t see anything they haven’t before. To Jase, I add, “Your girl just about tore me a new one on Saturday. Gave me this massive guilt trip.” One I still haven’t recovered from.
Devon makes himself at home on my bed. “Did you deserve it?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“That doesn’t matter right now, Dev,” Jase says, then turns to me. “You gotta pull yourself together. If Seth finds out you’ve been sulking like a teenaged girl, it’s not going to be good for you. As it is, he’s furious. You need to shower, because honestly, you stink, and then you need to get dressed. We’re going to the gym, and you’re going to go through the motions and make Seth—and your dad—happy. Or at least not want to strangle you. Got it?”
I shake my head, and the room spins. Lurching, I grab onto the dresser to stabilize myself. Fuck, when was the last time I ate? I don’t even remember. I might have had something yesterday morning. But my stomach isn’t the only thing that feels hollow. There’s a space inside my heart that used to be occupied by Sydney Coleman—my best friend and the most beautiful woman in the entire goddamned world. The emptiness sucks at me like a vacuum, trying to swallow everything else around it.
“What’s the point?” I ask bleakly. “Nothing matters without her.”
Jase’s brows pinch together, and I can tell his patience is drawing to an end, but I can’t find it in me to care.
“Pull yourself together.” This comes from Devon. “You’re not going to win her back like this.”
