“Her story was already printed weeks ago. What could you be helping her with?” The alarm on the treadmill rings, signaling the end of my warm down. For a second, I consider setting it for a few more miles, just to make it more difficult for her to stay and talk at me. But I’m supposed to pick up Liv in an hour anyway, so I don’t. Instead I jump off and fold my arms over my chest, showing my lack of interest and impatience in my posture.

“Oh, not the first story. The one she’s working on now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Summer, but I’m in a rush to pick up Liv, so can you get to the point?” I’m not pretending to be impatient for effect, I am impatient. She needs to go.

“The story about,” she pauses, and looks around. Again with the looking around to see if the coast is clear? What the fuck drama queen? And then she whispers, “you know, your real father.”

An hour later, I’m at Liv’s door. I pace for a few seconds before I knock, my mind racing. Liv would never use me. Would she? That boney ass bitch has to be making this shit up, probably pissed because I didn’t give her the attention she wanted...trying to get even with Liv. Every ounce of my body wants to believe everything she said was a lie, yet the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach is screwing with my head. Big time.

Eventually I grow a pair and knock on the door. Liv answers and smiles, she looks genuinely happy to see me. Can I be that big of an idiot that I’m seeing what I want to see? Her smile disappears when she takes in my face.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is laced with concern.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She steps aside, and quietly closes the door behind me.

I can’t even muster up small talk, I get right into it, not two feet inside her apartment. “Summer came to see me.”

Liv’s jaw tenses and I pray it’s jealousy and not nervousness, but I can’t tell. “Okaaaay.” She draws the word out slowly.

“She said you’re working on another story about me. Is it true?” I look right into her eyes as I speak. Her reaction tears me in two. It rips my heart out and stomps it on the god damn ground. She doesn’t respond. I begin to lose my patience. And my ability to control myself.

“Answer me!” I yell loudly. She jumps, my angry voice taking her by surprise.

“It’s not what you think,” she whispers. Tears fill her eyes.

“Answer the fucking question, Liv.” My eyes bore into hers. She stares blankly back at me, no response. “Answer the FUCKING QUESTION!”

“Yes…but...”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stop her before she finishes. The adrenaline pumps through my body, unclenching my balled up fists, I run my fingers anxiously through my hair. I feel like a lion in a cage, only there’s no restraints holding me here, not physical ones anyway.

“I’m sorry.” The waterworks turn on. “I never meant for you to find out this way. I was trying to protect you.”

Years of letdowns leave my mind trained to jump to protective mode, my hurt turns to anger. “I don’t need anyone to protect me.” Breathing labored, I seethe at her. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“You don’t understand.” She should be an actress, she’s so god damn good at this. Her face looks pained and her body trembles as the tears roll down her face.

“No, Liv, that’s where you’re wrong. I finally do understand. You’re just like the rest of them.” My maniacal laugh scaring even me, I need to get the hell out of here before I do something I’ll regret. I reach for the door, yank it open so hard it almost tears from the hinges, and turn back. “You could have just told me you wanted to take it out in trade. I probably would have agreed to it anyway, I wanted to fuck you so badly.” I lean down, my face in hers, so close I hear her breaths as she silently sobs. “At least the other whores are up front when they use me.” It takes every bit of willpower to walk out the door. But I do. And I don’t look back.

So much for my dedication, I walk into the gym three hours late and hungover. Maybe even still a little drunk from the night before. Or was it this morning when I stopped drinking? I have no idea, since I smashed my clock. And my phone. And a whole bunch of other shit when I flipped my dresser in my last drunken tirade.

“Where the hell have you been?” Nico scolds the minute I get past the front desk.

“Out.”

“You don’t answer your phone?”

“It broke.” When I threw it against the fucking wall.

“This have anything to do with the girl I saw come in last night?” Nico questions disapprovingly.

“Yeah, but it’s not what you think.”

“Listen to me.” Nico stands before me, putting one hand on each shoulder. “You’re too close to screw this up. Whatever’s going on, deal with it quick or tap it down. There’s no time for games.”

“Got it,” I growl through clenched teeth. “I was a little late, don’t blow it up into something more.” I push his hands off my shoulders.

Brows furrowed, eyes squinting, Nico assesses me. “Go do five miles, clear your head. Then we’ll start.”

Half an hour later, the remnants of last night’s alcohol sweated out through my pores, my buzz has turned into the start of a rip-roaring headache. Although the pain feels good. I strap on my headgear and climb into the ring where Alex waits for me. He’s one of my sparring partners, but he thinks he’s better than he is and he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. Today I’m in no god damn mood for his mouth.

Jumping up and down a few times to get my blood pumping, I wait as Alex clasps his own headgear. “That your new woman I saw come in last night?”

“No.” I answer shortly, hoping he’ll take the hint. No such damn luck.

“You still seeing that other one? The writer?” I throw a one-two jab combination, which he catches, but barely.

“No.” The simple one syllable word burns my throat as I speak it.

Alex grins, even his smile at my response pisses me off, although it’s his words that send me over the edge. “If you’re done, can I get her number? What an ass on that one.”

Like a bull being taunted, I see red. My body full of testosterone and mind angry, nothing could stop me. I take him down in one punch he didn’t even see coming. So full of rage, it takes me over, possessing me past the point of no return as I pound blow after forceful blow straight into his face while he’s pinned to the mat. By the time the four guys trying to wrestle me off of him are successful, the poor asshole’s face is a bloody mess.

The half full gym backs away from me, no one dares come within twenty feet. Except Nico. Fucker never did know when to keep his distance.

“You done? Hope you enjoyed yourself, because you aren’t going to be able to lift your arms by the time I’m done putting you through the ringer today.” He pauses, taking a step closer to me, standing nose to nose. “Get your ass to the bag. Twelve three-minute strike rounds. One minute between. Max.”

Any normal fighter, even one in the most pristine shape, would be soaking in a hot tub after the intensity of the workout Nico ran me through today. But not me. Adrenaline still pumping wildly through my veins like a current through wire, I head back out on my bike after a quick shower. I need to stop thinking. Need to forget. Stop feeling for a little while. It’s been a while since I went GIMP trolling, but not long enough to forget what I need to clear my head. A little power fucking till I can’t see straight ought to do the trick.

Stopping at the light, I look up at the looming building towering over me as I settle my feet to the ground to wait. Daily Sun Times. The urge to run my bike through the plate glass window is so strong, I have to fight myself to stay in place. Something burns a hole in my front pocket, itching at me from the depths of my mind, till I dig in and pull out a card with an address scribbled on it. Summer Langley. I turn left instead of heading straight.