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My gut twists because I know she’s right. I have cut myself off from everyone. I can’t stand to see the pity in their eyes. All it does is fuel the hatred I have inside for what my dad did to my mum. She was a good woman, and she didn’t deserve any of it.
Throwing myself into training has helped. It’s given me an outlet for my anger and a goal to focus on, but it’s also been lonely doing nothing but train, surf, and study. I miss my friends. I miss Ellie.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I say softly, leaning into her. “I wish…” My voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Me too,” she murmurs. “But I have to go. It’s the rightthing for all of us. I need some space, and maybe it will give you and Conrad a chance to work things out.”
“Can we still talk?” It’s selfish of me, but that’s been my biggest regret of the past couple of months–the way I’ve been avoiding her.
“Of course. I’ll never stop loving you, Harley.”
“Me, too.” I press my lips to her temple, breathing in her familiar scent of cherry blossoms.
We sit there quietly for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts until she breaks the silence. “How’s the training going?”
“Good. Really good.”
Ellie shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “No offence, but I don’t get the whole fighting thing. I’m happy that it’s helping you, though.”
I laugh. “Not into men beating the shit out of each other?”
“Not into men beating the shit out of you,” she tells me, her eyes drifting over to Conrad, and I know she’s recalling the night that Jasper held her back while Conrad laid into me.
“A lot’s changed in the last twelve months.”
“Yeah, it has.”
“I don’t regret any of it.”
“Me either.” Ellie leans in and kisses the side of my jaw. “You’ll always be my first love, Harley Breed.” My chest aches, and I can’t seem to forma words around the lump in my throat. Ellie doesn’t need to hear it, though. She standsup and offers me her hand. “Come on. Enough wallowing. This is a party.”
I let her pull me to my feet and follow her over to our friends just as Brady brings out the birthday cake. Ellie wraps her arm around my waist as we sing Happy Birthday, and a small part of me hopes that maybe it’s okay to let people help me. It doesn’t show weakness; it takes strength to lean on the people who care about you.
“STOP SLACKING, SURFER boy,” Steve shouts at me early the next morning. I’m in the cage with another fighter, Benji, and my stomach churns with every movement.
Last night was fun. It felt good to let go of all the anger and hurt, even just for one night. Unfortunately, I’d been having too much fun with my friends that I ended up having a few more drinks than I’d planned, and I’m paying for it now.
I watch Benji closely, watching for the tell-tale sign of his right foot coming forward before he jabs with his left. I block his hit and strike out with one of my own–connecting cleanly with his jaw. He shakes it off, narrowing his eyes at me. He’s already got a couple of sloppy hits in, but I’m not going to let him get any more.
I go on the offensive with two low kicks to his left thigh, followed by a couple of quick jabs once his defences are down. When I have him backed up against the cage, I go infor the kill with a five, two combo–watching with little satisfaction as Benji drops to his knees on the mat with a groan and a glazed look in his eyes.
“Where’s your head, kid?” Steve growls, smacking me up the back of it. “You can’t let your opponent in for even a second if you’re going to have a chance with the big boys.”
I pull off my gloves and spit my mouthguard into my hand. “I won, didn’t I?”
Steve levels me with a glare that would have another grown man pissing his pants. “You think this is a joke? You’ve got your first fight in less than a week, and you roll in here smelling like a brewery and throwing pansy-ass punches that can be read from a mile away. I don’t know what I was thinking, listening to Zeke. You’re not ready.”
I arch a brow as I offer a hand to Benji, pulling him to his feet. “I’ve been working my ass off for a month,” I say to Steve. “Surely you can cut me some slack for one session. It was my best friend’s twenty-first.”
The old man shakes his head. “I’m not interested in your excuses. I should never have gone against my better judgement. I’m not putting any of my fighters at risk in the cage. Benji, hit the showers. Surfer boy, I wanna see you do another ten kilometres on the treadmill before you leave.”
He’s dismissing us, and Benji looks relieved as he exits the cage, heading in the direction of the changerooms, but I’m pissed. I follow Steve into his office and shut the door. He narrows his eyes, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I thought I told you to hit the treadmills.”
“Are you seriously dropping me from the fight?”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”
“Because I’m ready.”
