“I’m not talking to you about her, Natalie. I asked you to leave.” That is all she is getting out of me when it comes to my wife and me.
There are only two people I’d trust discussing what went down in full detail, and once they find out what I’ve done, it’ll probably break their trust in me too.
Aubrey and Chance.
Family and friends. I’ll likely gut them all.
“By the looks of it, you need someone to talk to besides that bag. I’ve been there for you before, Mason. I’m here for you now. I’ll always be here for you. You can talk, or not, either way; I’m cleaning up your hands. You look like shit, by the way, maybe you should shower and look like the man I care about. Where’s the first-aid kit?”
She’s right. I look like shit because I haven’t slept. I feel like shit because I’m worried out of my mind. As far as a man? I’m less of one every minute my wife stays away.
I blow out a sigh, chest heaving, head tilting back, eyes grazing over the words I painted across the ceiling.
There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.
Paulo Coelho
I’ve failed the most important person in my life, and I fear for what’s to come of us because of it.
Huffing out a breath in hopes the weight of my life blows through the ceiling. I shut everything out and try to focus on the day ahead.
Meeting Cody and making sure I’ve done my job by mentally preparing him for his first sanctioned fight.
I’m not about to let him down. He’s worked his ass off for this for no one except himself and the belief he has to become the best he can be. The kid doesn’t have parents who give a shit about him. He would have dropped out of high school if he hadn't walked through these doors. On opening day even, now he’s graduated, living in a small apartment Eden and I are paying for and set to go places.
He needs me.
All the kids who come here need me. They are what society deems inner-city kids. Well below the poverty level without a pot to piss in. Some live in foster homes. Others have parents who don’t give a fuck that they have children who want love and attention.
Thanks to Hector, I’m one of the few lucky ones who grew up in the system and can barely remember what it was like not to be loved. The same as Eden. Hector might not have adopted her, but he loved her as much as he did me.
I swallow, dropping my head against my chest. Feeling defeat sucker punch me. I can’t let any of these kids down by not giving Cody all I have. They’ll be there watching. So will the gyms handful of employees.
Employees and students I’m going to have to fake my way through the days with if Eden doesn’t get her ass home.
If. There’s that shit awful word again.
“You're going to need the first aid kit if you don’t get out of my gym. You can take that threat out the door with you, and the second you step through, I expect you to do your job by taking care of clearing things up with the press. Work with Scott and make it disappear. Do you want to know what my problem is? It’s me and you and the fact you are annoying the hell out of me. I suggest you get gone now or fixing this problem that you are as much a part of as I am will be the last job you ever do for me. Do I make myself clear?” I ball my fists. She better hear me, or I’ll emotionally snap.
“Okay, Mason.”
I look down at the floor as she walks away. Blood dripping down my fingers. It’s crazy to love the sight of it, to crave drawing it of someone else. It’s a need that lives within me.
“Natalie,” I call without looking up.
“I’ll handle talking to Jacob. As much as I’d love to make this happen, it can’t. I need you not to bring it up again. That’s another threat.”
I stand there, fists clenching. Hating the choices I made, hating life, hating myself.
Mostly, I hate it that I had to make another choice.
I would never choose boxing over my wife, but to give it up?
It is the hardest choice of my life.
Chapter Ten
Mason
“Hey, champ, you going to tell me why you aren’t setting up a match with Jacob? I have to say; I went a little crazy when I heard. Hell, my entire platoon did. Bets were already on the table. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me. That would have been one hell of a comeback, my friend. It might have been one for the record books. Still could be, you know.”
Gage, one of my good buddies from back in the early Detroit days, asks when he walks by me and plops down in a chair. The guy started calling me champ shortly after we met. To this day, he still does.
It’s a sweet thing to hear.
We used to go round and round with one another, both high off the vibe — neither keeping score. I was there to train, he went to keep himself out of trouble and to stay as far away from his drug-dealing father and meth addict mother as he could. He was damn good, still is, but his desire to serve our country was stronger. He enlisted in the military. He has fifteen years in and plans on retiring in five more. He’s one of the good guys who would likely turn me into the enemy by shoving me to the ground and shooting me execution-style if he found out I’ve been deceiving him by not telling the reason why I retired.
Wouldn’t blame him if he did it without a blindfold, so I’d have to look him in the eye and see the betrayal on his face before he pulled the trigger.
Guilt starts to eat at me; I shut that shit down. There’s no place for it here. I need to remain focused. I need to keep my anger over Eden, thinking she can leave my ass swirling through my system.
The hell does she think it’ll prove anyway? All it does is fume me to no end.
That thought works me up enough to get my temper flaring. Blood starts pumping like crazy, spiking my adrenaline through the roof. I’ve gone from pissed off to wanting to use my twitchy hands and crush delicate bone in someone’s face. Not that I’d do that to Gage. Still, it was either find some hole in the wall bar and drink until I passed out or call him to see if he was free to spar.
Tonight sparring won. Tomorrow if she isn’t back, it’ll no doubt be alcohol.
“Eden doesn’t want me to.” I leave it at that then continue wrapping my hand and wrist until it’s snug and secure. Once satisfied, I rip off a piece of tape with my teeth and flex my hand to loosen the stiffness of the tape.
I love that feeling of knowing my most valuable possessions are protected against injuries I’m inducing on others. Kind of a sick and twisted way of looking at it. Two people standing inside a square beating the hell out of each other until one falls for the count.
“Good answer. Any other, and I’d kick your ass harder than I am about to. Where is that lovely wife of yours anyway? It’s a Saturday night. Isn’t this your date night or whatever the hell old married couples do?”
“She has a head cold,” I lie without hesitation while giving him my back. I can’t look him in the eye. Gage is trained to pick up on liars, the guy can sniff one out faster than a hound dog on a bloody scent.
“Well, give her my best. You might want to bring your best a-game on tonight too; I’m ready to kick your goddamn ass.”