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It was so hard.
Literally and figuratively.
Worst of all, I have no idea how she feels about me. She was definitely into it when I was touching her, but maybe she was just a flirt. Or she likes me but doesn’t want me with the same intensity that I feel.
Fuck, this is giving me a headache.
"Brooks, you ready to work?"
I turn and smile, the thoughts of Bailey pushed to the back of my mind for the time being.
"Always, brother," I reply, reaching out to grip his hand. "Good to see you, Derrick."
Derrick is a fellow boxer, and while we've never been close friends, I consider him a good training partner. I met him when I was young and just learning the sport, and he's one of the few boxers I've always respected and listened to.
"How's your boy?"
Derrick grins, the pride obvious on his face. "He's good. Wants to take some boxing lessons. He's ten and thinks he's the next Mike Tyson."
Thoughts of my own son filter in—Ian, my great disappointment. Derrick knows better than to bring him up, and few people in the gym besides him and Keith even know about Ian. I raised him to be the best man I could, but at around sixteen, he started to show an entitled side that I'd never seen before. After he had a few run-ins with the law, drinking underage mostly, I had him come work for me after school to keep him out of trouble. It worked for a few years. He was still a brat, but he stayed on the straight and narrow.
But then he turned eighteen and stole from me. My business. Emptying the safe after hours and taking an entire week's worth of membership fees.
I was shocked. Not only did he take the money, but he lied when I confronted him … until I showed him the security footage. It's like the kid didn't even know me, and the fact that he didn't even look ashamed is what hurt the most.
So I cut him off. Stopped giving him an allowance. Stopped talking to him. But I wasn't about to put him on the streets, and he still lived with me for a few months. His grades were still good enough to get him into college, and I did what I thought was right—offered to pay his tuition if he moved out and didn't speak to me again until he had his degree and was a better man.
It hurt like hell when he jumped at the chance. He was moved out within the week, and while the college stopped pulling money from my account last year, I still haven't heard from my son. He'd be about twenty-four now. All I can do is hope that he's okay and will eventually become a better person.
Derrick has a son of his own, and his pride for the kid is clear.
"Bring him by," I tell him. "I'll show him some basics. Maybe he'll like it."
Derrick nods, and we head over to a mat. I've always appreciated his work ethic. He's one of the few guys in the gym who works harder than I do.
We start stretching and talking about the new equipment that's supposed to be coming in. He's a great sparring partner, and before long, we're up on our feet, fists flying. I don't notice anyone around me, focusing entirely on Derrick. He's good, and a few times he gets in a hit, but I'm quicker. It's a great fight, and before I know it, we're calling it quits.
I'm still breathing hard, and sweat drips from my forehead when I hear her voice.
"Wow, that was incredible."
I turn and see Bailey, her cheeks flushed and a bottle of water in her hand. She's looking at me with wide, impressed eyes, and the way her gaze runs over my chest makes my heart speed up.
"Thanks," I grunt.
Bailey tilts her head to look at Derrick, her blond ponytail bouncing. "Who is this? I don't think I met him yesterday."
"I'm Derrick," he replies, grinning. "Are you joining the gym?"
"I already have," she tells him, flashing me a glance.
"Well, welcome aboard," Derrick says.
He gives her a wink, and it's all I can do not to punch him in the face. The feeling comes out of nowhere—Derrick is married and my friend. But Bailey makes me feel possessive in an all-consuming way. Derrick doesn’t notice my switch in emotions and doesn't seem interested in Bailey either, nodding at me before leaving the ring.
"Hey," Bailey says, stepping forward.
I take the water from her, watching as she climbs up into the ring and starts her stretches. She looks sexy as fuck, and the workout clothes she has on are just enough to cover the bits that I want to see but don't hide the fact that she has a killer body. Tight, dusky pink shorts and matching sports bra. I feel another surge of anger that she was walking around outside with this getup on, other men looking her over, until I notice the hoodie she has knotted around her waist. So she covered up in public but took it off once she got inside my gym. Interesting…
