Lou seems to have a renewed sense of purpose as he bounces around the ring, letting me throat punch at his protected hands. He has the energy of a man half his age, which would still make him forty, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

“I can’t believe you’re fighting ‘Baby’ Bobby Morales! This is the big time, buddy! This is huge! You’re going to make a name for yourself with this fight! I just know it!”

Every excited word of encouragement from Lou makes me even more nervous. Bobby Morales is a swarmer, a fighter who tries to wear his opponent down by coming at him consistently until he’s exhausted. I’m not worried about the actual fight as much as him wearing me down. Lou and I are working on building up my stamina more than anything now, since I know I can outfight anyone they put in front of me.

At least… I think I can.

Lou stops and gives me a serious glare. “I can see you getting inside your head, kid. Knock it off. You are one of the best out-boxers I’ve ever met. But you are your own worst enemy, and you know that as well as I do.”

I sigh and lean back against the ropes. “I’m just worried. Pro fights mean more is at stake, which means more… It’s more likely I will…”

“You’re worried about your kid, right?” Lou asks, his big brown eyes surveying me, equal parts annoyed and concerned.

“Yeaaaah, Lou. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Hazel sooner. But also, how did you know about her?”

“It’s my job to know everything, kid. Including the things you keep from me.”

My stomach drops. How much does he know? I want to ask, but I feel like asking more questions would imply I was hiding more, and if he didn’t already know… This is getting convoluted. Just drop it, Adam.

“Anyway, Kylie seems to be pretty good at her job, huh? Fast-tracking my license. Booking a fight already, with Bobby Morales no less? You picked out one hell of an agent, Lou.”

Lou puts his hands up again, signaling I need to get back to practicing. Yet, he has a bemused look that implies I’m full of shit.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“Sure. You like her because she’s good at her job. That’s the only reason.”

I stop throwing punches and glower at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I see the way you look at her.”

I hit his practice pad a little harder than I need to, and he takes a measured step backward. “That’s bullshit, man. I barely know her. Besides, dating or whatever is the last thing on my mind.”

“How long has it been, Adam?”

I feel twin pangs of shock. One, because Lou just called me by my given name, not “kid” or like he does on special occasions, “Burnham.” Two, because apparently he knows plenty, including about Mandy.

“Why does that matter?” I grumble as I throw another punch. But Lou ducks me and steps away.

“It matters because you’ve done nothing but focus on your kid, mourning, and fighting for three years. It’s admirable, but maybe it’s time to let yourself live your own life too.”

I undo the straps on my gloves, take them off, and chuck them in the corner of the ring. “Even if that were something I were interested in, which I’m not, hooking up with my agent would be a terrible idea. So mind your business. We’re done for today.”

Lou begins to sputter. “But it’s barely 8 p.m.! I booked the ring until midnight! We don’t have time…”

“We’re done, Lou,” I say as I walk away from him without another word. I don’t even grab my coat as I walk out of the gym. I just start stalking down the street and in the direction of my apartment, which is actually an hour’s walk away, but I don’t care. I need the bite of the evening cold to dampen down my simmering rage. What right does Lou have to give me advice on anything? He’s never been married. He doesn’t know anything about how it feels to lose someone you love. Three years is nothing when you’ve been in love with someone your entire life.

I’m barely a block away from the gym when I turn a corner and see Ryan Miller leaning against the front wall of a bar, smoking. It’s too late for me to get away unnoticed, so I just keep walking, hoping he will leave me alone.

No such luck.

“Hey! Garbage Bomb!”

I roll my eyes. “Clever, Trash Compactor. I’m just trying to walk home. Go back to getting hammered and hitting on unwilling women.”

He steps in front of me, using his considerable girth to try and block my escape. “So. I hear you’re going pro. Bet you think you’re hot shit now, huh?”

Ryan is trying to rile me up. It’s working, and I hate myself for letting him get under my skin. “Yup, you’re right. I heard you applied for your license, but they wouldn’t approve it because of all those charges for exposing yourself in public. Or was it just because you’re such a shit fighter no one would bet on you?”

His first swing at me is clumsy, his timing dulled because he’s drunk. I duck it easily. But the second one is a sucker punch, and it hits me square in the ribs. I can feel his entire weight behind it, and the sound of one or more of my bones cracking echoes down the street. As I double over, he takes another shot at my face, and nails me in the eye. The swelling and bruising is immediate, and my vision goes blurry as I tumble to the sidewalk.

“Stay down, you pleece of shilt,” Ryan slurs. Then he walks back in the bar, leaving me coughing on the concrete. And I do. I stay there for I don’t know how long. Minutes. Hours. But I let the pain set in, and I try to get a handle on it so I can decide whether or not I can keep walking.

But then I try to stand up, and it feels like my entire center is collapsing in on itself. I wave a cab down instead and keep my eyes closed for the entire ride, afraid I’m going to puke all over the back seat. The ride takes forever, and when I crawl out of the car and ride the elevator up to my place, it all happens in slow motion. I knock on the door as gently as I can, since I left my keys at the gym, and try to wait patiently for Kylie to answer. But nothing happens, so I knock harder, sending a pulse of white-hot pain through my body.

Finally the door opens, and the smile on Kylie’s face disappears in an instant. Through my one good eye, I can see she is wearing silky, bright blue pajamas, and cute little bunny slippers. But the terror on her face makes it hard to appreciate how adorable she looks.

“What in the name of… Why didn’t Lou take you to the hospital? This isn’t normal in sparring, is it?” she asks as she ushers me gently inside.

I laugh softly, and even that hurts. “This didn’t happen at the gym. It happened on the way home,” I say with a voice so scratchy I barely recognize it.

“Oh my God,” Kylie says nervously. “We need to call the police! Who did this?”

I try to roll my eyes, but the bruised one fights back and I cringe. “It’s no big deal. Can you just get me some ice?”

Kylie stands over me, staring through me with frustration. “It damn well does matter. Your daughter is in her bedroom, playing a video game. What are you going to tell her when she comes out? That you fell down a manhole? Had a piano fall on you?”

“I’m not a ‘40s cartoon character,” I grumble. “Okay, if you must know all the details, I mouthed off to Miller while I was walking home and he jumped me. It’s no big deal.”

“That piece of shit. It’s a very big deal, Adam. You need to report him.”

I get up, attempting to suppress a groan as I go, and get the ice myself. “You’re obviously newer to this world than you want to admit. If I rat him out, that’s it for me. These dudes don’t look kindly on snitching. It’s not like Miller has a great reputation anyway. It doesn’t matter what I say about him.” I press a package of frozen peas against my eye and gingerly lie down on the couch, holding a pillow over my chest.

“Fine. It’s your decision, Adam. But has Hazel ever seen you like this?”

I nod. “Sure. I’ve been jacked up before. I don’t usually end up with broken ribs, but she doesn’t have to know about that.”

Kylie’s eyes go wide again. “Your ribs are broken? We need to go to the hospital, Adam!”

I sigh and laugh at her, even though I don’t mean to. “You can’t do anything for broken ribs. They’d just tell me to ice them, give me some pain meds, and send me home. I can live without the pain meds.”

“And what about your fight next week? Did you think about that before you picked a fight with that meathead?”

Inwardly, I chastise myself. No, you dumbass. You didn’t. How the hell are you going to be any kind of worthy opponent to Bobby Morales if you’re fighting injured? “I’ll manage. Hey, do you mind staying the night anyway? I’d like to crawl into bed with some whiskey and my peas, and I don’t want Hazel to be alone.”

Kylie crosses her arms over her chest. “I should say no. But I don’t want Hazel to see you like this for such a stupid reason. Go to sleep and wake up with your priorities in order.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I answer snarkily.

Kylie grabs my shirt as I try to walk out of the door. “Hey, get this straight, buddy. I’m not your mother. I am your agent. And I will do whatever I have to in order to protect my investment. This isn’t just about you anymore. My career is riding on every decision you make from here on out. And the next time you want to start a stupid fight with a dipshit like Ryan Miller, think about your daughter first. She is well aware how dangerous your job is, and every fight you get into scares her. I wouldn’t be starting fights you don’t need just to puff up your pride.”

I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s serious, and that she genuinely cares. So I just nod and walk away toward my bedroom, grabbing a bottle of booze on my way. It only takes a few chugs before I pass out into a pain-addled, miserable sleep.

* * *

I wake up the next morning, and it takes some effort to open my eye, but when I do, my vision isn’t as blurry as it was the night before. I roll over with a moan, and on the bedside table, there is a glass of water and two ibuprofen, with a note.

Take these and ice your eye again.

Hazel & I went for breakfast. I’ll bring you back something.

~K

I propel myself out of the bed with more effort than I would normally require, and shuffle toward the bathroom. I’m a step away when my cell phone rings, and I have to turn around and go back for it. The caller ID says it’s Lou, and I know if I don’t answer, he’ll just keep calling.

“Lou, this isn’t really a good…”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” he yells at me so loudly, I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

“What are you talking about, man?”

Lou swears at me for what feels like five minutes before he starts talking like a human being again. “Ryan Miller is in the gym, telling everyone about how he kicked your ass and left you on the sidewalk outside some bar, bleeding. Is that true? Are you injured?”

I wince when I move, feeling the broken ribs even more today than I did last night. “I mean, he got a few good licks in, but I’ll live.”

“I can hear that you’re broken over the phone, kid! Get your ass to a doctor, now. Do not step a foot in this gym until you’ve been x-rayed and checked out. And if you screw up this fight with Morales, I will smother you in your sleep, you hear me?” His tone means business.

“Fine, fine. When Kylie gets back, I will go to the doctor.”

There is a long pause on the other end. Finally, Lou speaks, and his tone has changed considerably. “‘Gets back’? She’s staying at your place? She stayed at your place?”

“Lou, I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you after the doctor.”

I throw the phone on the bed and head into the bathroom, where I turn the shower on as hot as it will go and let the room fill with steam. I strip out of my T-shirt, and even through the mist I can see that my chest and stomach have turned various shades of purple and red and blue. My eye is not as swollen as it was last night, but it’s practically black, and it hurts to blink. I shake my head as I step into the hot water and let it beat down on me, burning for a second, before it takes the edge off the pain. I press my palms to the wall, letting the stream pour over my scalp, and I gently brush my hair from my face. I don’t even wash it; all I can do is stand in place and let the heat massage away my pain.

“Adam? We’re back! I got you whatever breakfast platter was the biggest!”

Kylie’s voice startles me for a second, but then I laugh. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.”

Suddenly, the door flies open. “Daddy! I got you a hot cocoa too!”

I look in the mirror across from the glass shower door and can see Kylie on the other side of the door, dumbstruck, staring at my naked reflection in the mirror. The steam obscured some of me, but enough was visible to send her running in the other direction, with Hazel chasing after her.

“Hazel! You could have at least shut the…”

But they are both gone, leaving me alone in the shower with my utter embarrassment.