“Shut up.”

“Seriously, Ren, who’d fight with you?”

“Idiots,” I retorted.

“You want to fight with me all the time,” Caleb shot back, cocking his head to the side. “But I just let that shit roll off my back and into the sunset.”

I stuck my hands on my hips. “What’s that meant to mean?”

He winked. “It means that I like you enough not to give a crap when you’re being a bitch.”

“Tell it like it is, why don’t you?” I snapped, picking up my wraps. Tearing open the Velcro, I let the material unwind and stuck my thumb through the loop at the end.

“Reality check, Ren,” he said, not at all put off by my tone. “You don’t have to push so hard against everything.”

Stepping forward he grabbed the wrap, curled his fingers around my wrist and began binding my hand for me. I jerked my arm back, but he held firm.

“Can’t a friend help a friend?” he said, not even bothering to hide his cocky bloody grin.

I rolled my eyes. “Not when that friend has taken a number.”

“I don’t do bullshit, Ren,” he said, spitting my own words back at me. “I like to have a laugh and not take shit so seriously. Have to in my position. There isn’t very far to fall from my perch, believe me.”

I frowned and allowed him to wrap my hand up tight. When he was done, he gestured for the other.

“Is it really that bad?” I asked, as I let him grasp my wrist.

He nodded but didn’t answer. The only indication he gave that it bothered him was the slight narrowing of his eyes.

“I see that look in your eyes,” he said after a moment, watching me closely. “The one that says this is your entire life.” He gestured around us at the gym, and I shrugged. “It’s the same for me. You get that with career fighters. They forget just about everything to the point where they get tunnel vision. Totally addicted like junkies.”

I knew a great deal of guys like that from my time at The Underground, and for a while there, I was one of them. I had nothing left in me when Ash disappeared—nothing but the urge to fight with my fists. Junkie was the perfect word to describe what I’d become.

“Not being able to fight was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” Caleb went on, securing the last piece of Velcro around my wrist. “I focused on it and nothing else for so long that it was all I had. When I was laid up in hospital, it was…”

He trailed off, leaving me hanging, but I was smart enough to fill in the blanks on my own. Depression, darkness and nothing. That’s what had greeted him when the chips fell. When he couldn’t return to the ring, or even to training, everyone he knew would’ve fallen away and faded to black, sponsorships would’ve dried up, hangers on would’ve vacated the premises… Caleb Carmichael had melted into the background, a blip on the show reel of boxing, nothing but a cursory tale of what can happen when shit goes wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, glancing up at him.

His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on mine. “Not your fault.”

“But I sympathize,” I countered. “I don’t know what it’s like, but I get it at least a little.”

He took a deep breath, and we stood there for a moment, staring at one another in total silence. Then he moved forward and pressed his lips against mine.

There was no zing when he touched me—no snap, crackle or pop—and for a moment, I was taken by surprise. I didn’t see it coming at all, so my brain took a moment to catch up, but when it did, I sprang into action. I placed my palms against his chest and pushed, breaking us apart.

“No,” I said, stepping back.

“No?” He looked hurt, fragile and ragged, like I’d just stomped on his kitten.

“Things might be rocky with me and Ash right now,” I said, “but I can’t.”

“You still love him?”

“Shit, Caleb. It’s been a day.”

“So you did break up with him,” he exclaimed, stepping closer.

Edging away, I shook my head. “We fought, Caleb, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to go off with someone else right off the bat. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. Shit.”

He sucked in a deep breath and backed away. “Fuck.”

“Well, you can just stop because he’s the love of my stupid fucking life,” I retorted. “I’m sorry, but even if we were through, I’d never be able to move on from that.” I pointed to myself. “This street is a dead end.”

He turned away, his pride obviously dented. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

Frozen to the spot, I watched as he gathered up his bag from underneath the bench and strode across the mats. He was leaving, and I didn’t have it in me to explain myself any further. He’d get over it and find someone who would see him despite his injury, but it wouldn’t be me.

“I’ll see you later,” he threw over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

I stood there in the middle of the studio, the light shining over me, and I shook my head. What had the world come to? My entire life was a mess.

Brushing my fingers over my lips, I sighed. He wasn’t Ash. No one would ever be Ash.

Fifteen

Ash

I was destined to make the same mistakes over and over again.

It was a harsh reality considering I was currently watching my two young protégés, Ryan and Cole, spar in the cage I’d built at the back of Pulse. I’d wanted to do for them what Coach Miller had done for me, but it turned out I couldn’t even help myself. Despite that shit, something inside of me still couldn’t cut those two loose.

Ren was gone, and without this thing I was doing here, I would revert to the man I’d become to get through my stint in prison—a beast. If that was the case, then I should just shut up shop and go back to The Underground. At least I’d be able to fight there without the questions. People stepped into that cage expecting to get hurt.

I could let off some steam without causing unwanted trouble. Shit, I could get away with murder…

There was a loud thump, and I blinked hard, my thoughts coming back to the present with a snap. Ryan was standing over Cole, who he’d just thrown over his shoulder. Cole was flat on his back looking pissed as hell, and before I could step up, he pushed off the ground and went for his mate. I knew that look, the one that said he was pissed that he’d been bested. That look had gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years.

Cole collided with Ryan, his skin turning red with a mixture of anger and exertion, and the pair grappled.

“Knock it off,” I exclaimed, shoving my arm between them.

Cole cursed loudly and broke away. The kid was too hotheaded.

“Fair and square, dude,” Ryan declared, backing away.

Cole jabbed a finger, his frustration getting the best of him. “I had you.”

“A dick move like that would have you in the shit,” I snapped. “He bested you. Learn from it.”

“You weren’t even watchin’,” Cole exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Where the fuck are you, Coach?”

“Shut your trap,” I snarled. “Take five and cool the fuck off.”

He rolled his eyes and stalked off, disappearing across the gym. Ryan hung around, swinging his arms back and forth.

“Ren was askin’ after you yesterday,” he said.

I grunted, my annoyance levels beginning to rise.

“Is everything okay, man?”

Turning my gaze onto the young fighter, I shook my head. “None of your business.”

His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t press any further. “Suit yourself, but it’s messing with this.” He gestured at the cage, and I narrowed my eyes as his words hit home.

Day one without Ren and I was letting the one thing that defined me fall apart. Anger issues or not, I was still here and still had a business to run…and these guys still believed in me even though Ryan seemed to be wiser than I was right now.

I didn’t know if she was coming back, and I sure as hell didn’t know if I wanted to go after her and explain myself. It was the difference between hurting her a little now and hurting her a whole lot later on. Maybe this was for the best.