There was a silence as the door slammed shut behind the two of them, the woman ushered her younger brother out into the evening dark and all of the other boys stared after them. Then someone started laughing.

“Mike got in trouble!”

They were all joining in, shoving each other and shouting jokes over the noise, until Tyler pounded on the wall for them to be quiet. He had been so consumed in staring after her that he’d let the joking go on far too long. Those eyes, those lips…

They stared at him, and he tried to remember how to speak.

“All that talk means people aren’t working hard enough!” He let his eyes sweep over all of them, and then pointed to the back wall. “Sprints. Come on.”

“This is boxing, not running!”

“This is MMA, not boxing—and go on, just try to get in the ring without being fit, huh?” Tyler let his genuine amusement show in his face. “You’ll be on YouTube forever.”

With a grumble, they set off, sprinting back and forth between the two walls with increasingly pleading looks that Tyler ignored until he saw their pace slow to a legitimate jog. He didn’t let himself smile this time, although he wanted to. These were good kids, with a lot of energy and a lot of drive. That was one thing he’d found since he moved here. These kids wanted to win at something, but even more, they wanted to be part of a team. It warmed a part of his heart that he hadn’t known existed.

He took the time to talk to each of them as they got ready to go home, crouching down to ask about siblings or parents, remind them about gear, ask how things were going. He’d learned, over the past few months, that when someone did particularly well in class, there was often something they needed to work out. Back in Detroit, his friends had been richer and he’d been the odd one out—here, he was learning that there were other people who acted just the way he had in high school.

It was James he talked to last, when nearly all the other boys had gone. James was smart, smarter than almost any of the others; Michael was the only one who rivaled him. But lately, the kid had lost focus. His endurance wasn’t what it had been, and he wasn’t as light on his feet. It would be easy to chalk that up to home life or normal teenage mood swings, but Tyler had a sinking feeling that he knew just what was going on.

He knew far, far too well.

“How you doing?” He sat on the bench next to James.

“Well.” James didn’t look over.

“You’ve been a little—”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Tyler deliberately looked away. “Because it seems like maybe school hasn’t been going well, too.”

James said nothing, but his hands slowed as he put away his gear.

“And you’re too smart for that.”

“Maybe high school is bullshit.”

“Nah, high school is definitely bullshit.” Tyler gave him a grin. “No maybe about it.”

James smiled unwillingly.

“Just tell me, dude. If I went through your bag, what would I find?” Tyler looked over at him.

“What do you mean?”

“It means I’m guessing pot, but I don’t know. I pray to God not heroin.”

“Jesus, it’s pot, get off my case. Pot’s fine.”

“Maybe for some people.” Tyler lifted his shoulder. “Most people, really, except for one thing…”

“What’s that?” James stood, hoisting the bag over his shoulder.

“Take it from someone who knows: if you do drugs to get away from something…you’re never gonna stop using them.”

“What are you, a DARE commercial or something?”

“I used to be one of the top fighters in the world,” Tyler told him brutally. “Now I teach. You know why?”

“Drugs?” James clearly didn’t believe him.

“It wasn’t the drugs, it was why I took them. But trust me, they did nothing but help me on my way down.”

Now the kid paused, intrigued and not wanting to be. “So why’d you take them?”

“Because I thought winning tournaments would make all my problems go away, and when it didn’t, I had too much money and nothing in my life. Turns out if you don’t fill your life up the way you want, other things show up to fill the void—and they’re never the ones you would choose.”

“And you took pot and your whole life fell apart?” The kid was still staring at him like he was a white kid from the suburbs who didn’t get it.

“James.” Tyler stood up. “Please. Just listen for a second. Smoke pot, I don’t care. I’m not here to tell you any drug’s the devil. I can’t see inside your head, I don’t know what’s going on. But if it’s that you want to forget the world for a few minutes, that you like not caring about things anymore—”

“I don’t want to go to college,” James interrupted.

“Huh?”

“I’m supposed to want to go to college, right? I’m smart, I’m supposed to. I don’t want to.”

“Don’t you like fixing cars?”

“Yeah.” James looked at him warily.

“So be a mechanic. Enjoy your life.”

“Right.” James stared at him. “Okay. I can still come here, right?”

“As long as you want to train, you’ve got a spot.”

“Thanks.” James looked off into space, then pulled a bag out of his pocket and tossed it over. “Can you just…get rid of that? I know I’m going to want to…well, you know.”

“Sure.” Tyler watched him go and slid down along the wall until he thudded to the ground. Tipping his head back, he let his eyes drift closed.

To his surprise, he saw her. He thought back, trying to remember what Michael had said about his family. Two sisters. This one would be…Jasmine? Yes, Jasmine. He was pretty sure, anyway. Michael hadn’t, of course, mentioned that she was gorgeous. Being her brother, he was probably more concerned with her telling him off for skipping his homework.

She was the type of woman Tyler wouldn’t have had any time for even a year ago. He could remember shrugging as he saw pretty women walk past in old jeans or scrubs: well, if she’s not even going to make an effort… Not for the first time, he cringed at the memory of who he’d been. He couldn’t even remember the first thing about any of the women he’d slept with around then. It was a haze of short skirts and corset tops, too-high heels and lipstick.

And Jasmine…something about her was just too different for him to ignore. She was one of the first women he had seen who didn’t even seem to care what she looked like. Of course, she didn’t have to. Her hair was the kind of curly women paid hundreds of dollars to imitate, her grey eyes were just slightly tilted at the corners, and her pert little mouth shone a perfect pink against her warm brown skin. She was short, short enough that she would fit just perfectly under his arm if they were walking together, and her scrubs weren’t exactly flattering, but there was no hiding those curves.

He sighed again and stared at the bag in his hands. He didn’t even remember everything he’d taken in those last few months. If someone handed it to him, he took it; if they recommended it, he tracked it down. At the time, he told people drunkenly he was living the dream. He usually had a gorgeous girl under each arm, a bottle of champagne somewhere, steaks and an apartment full of leather couches and widescreen TVs.

For the past few months, those memories had gradually shifted until he remembered the headaches, the way morning light was far too bright, the drag in his muscles, the ever-slowing reaction times. And he remembered the tournament.

He was never going to forget the tournament. He’d been too dumb even to worry about it. He’d sparred with Kevin back in the day and destroyed him—but Kevin had gotten good, and Tyler…Tyler had fallen off. He still remembered the split-second when he realized that something was wrong, that he wasn’t going to win. And that was all the time he’d had before he was staring up at the ceiling while the crowd roared.

His hands tightened around the bag. He hadn’t been kidding when he told James that outrunning his demons with drugs would lead nowhere. But what he should have said was that he understood just how tempting it was. He could forget everything, he could stop caring if he just took a moment to light up. If he did, he wouldn’t have to remember his coach screaming at him about what he was doing to himself and the potential he was throwing away. He wouldn’t have to remember how he’d said it was his life and he could do what he wanted, and he’d walked out and quit because he couldn’t take a single punch. One failure was all it took to show him how unsuited he was to all of it. All he’d ever had was luck: good reflexes and good luck. He fumbled in his pocket for a lighter…

And stopped, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He forced himself to stand up, walk to the dumpster out back, and drop the bag into it, wincing at the smell. The cold air chilled him and he let it, standing still and shivering. Only when the bag was gone did he consider what he’d done and why.

It was because of her, the woman who had everything. Not that she’d say she had everything, he knew that. He even knew that it was cruel to accuse a woman who’d lost her father of having so much. But she cared about something. There were people she loved, and a future she wanted to protect.

For the first time in a long time, Tyler felt hope stir in his chest—hope for a better future, even if he didn’t have the first idea of what that looked like.