Left jab, right jab. Coach was coming at me no-holds barred. I kept my boxing gloves held up and didn’t give an inch.

“C’mon Powers, that all you got?” he roared.

I flung out my own jab, though it only glanced off his face.

Damn, the man was a beast. All pec-propelled force and not letting up for a second. Although I wasn’t doing bad either. If only Cin could see me, I thought.

That was when a jab to my gut sent me stumbling back.

“Your head’s not in the game, Powers!” Coach roared. He stormed to the edge of the ring and got out.

“Hey,” I said. “That was one hit.”

“No.” Firm head shake. “That was a bunch of missed opportunities, weak sparring. Your head’s not in it. Come back when it is.”

And, just like that, he strode away.

“Hey,” I called after him, “Just give me a chance.”

The last part I said to myself, my frown frustrated. Although I should’ve known better. Coach was a notorious hothead, who just, unfortunately for me, happened to be the best boxing coach there was.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

The fight was coming up sooner than I’d like, and I’d been training way less than I should have been. Coach had a damn good point – my head wasn’t in the game. But how could it be when I was aching to see Cin?

In the locker room, my call to her went to voicemail.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

At Owen’s voice, I turned around to eye him. “Thought you were at Raymond’s.”

“I was. Thought I’d stop by and see how things were going.”

I spread my arms with a sardonic scowl. “As you can see – they’re going just peachy.”

Owen smiled grimly. “Coach walk out on you?”

I nodded. He nodded. “Let’s get you sparring then.”

An angry retort was halfway up my throat when I caught on. I grinned, beating a pat into his shoulder. “You sure you’re up to it, old man?”

“Broken man, more like,” Owen said, shrugging me off. “And yeah, I figure we can eke out a round or two. You need the practice.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I grabbed my boxing gloves. “We’ll see.”

Back in the ring a minute or so later, Owen and I were faced off, ready. We hadn’t bothered with mouth guards, weren’t planning on going that hard. Besides, I wanted to talk to him, find out more about what had happened last night with him and Cin.

“Have to admit, it’s good to see you back in the ring,” I told him. This was how we’d learned mainly, by sparring each other – again and again and again.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, just as his gloved fist zipped out.

It caught me by surprise in the shoulder, sending me stumbling backwards.

“What’s that for?” I joked. “I’m the one who should be doing that to you.”

And then I came at him hard, all punches, upper and undercuts, which he blocked expertly.

“You’re still damn good,” I had to admit, panting.

Owen reset his boxing stance. “Doesn’t make a difference how good I am. You’re the one who needs to win next Tuesday.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Although now he was coming at me with a flurry of hits himself, up, down, to the left, right, it seemed I was aiming my blocking gloves everywhere at once, waiting. This was another part of boxing, the patience. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. When Owen overextended himself to try for another jab, I saw my opportunity.

My quick jab was a perfect hit, sending him stumbling backwards. I took the opportunity to ask, “So you and Cin?”

Owen readied his stance, glaring at me. “Yeah? You still ok with it?”

I had to pause for that one. “You know what? I actually am.”

Under Owen’s stare, I had to admit the truth of it to myself. It was a relief, actually. Maybe it was growing up so close to Owen, that he had always been more than just a brother, more like an external, sometimes annoying part of myself, but it almost seemed fitting, sharing Cin with him.

“You?” I asked.

He blocked my next shot, sidestepping. “I am too.”

As our gloved fists connected, through gritted teeth, I said, “Sounds like we should invite her over tonight then, too.”

Owen shoving me back and coming at me with jabs wasn’t exactly the response I’d planned for.

A good half hour later, both of us were completely spent, although satisfied with my skills. I’d gone on to wear Owen down with my practiced, well-timed punches, until, slumped on the ring exhausted, he’d had enough.

In the locker room, I got out my phone with a significant eyebrow flick at Owen – Yeah?

He pursed his lips, smiled – Yeah.

After dialing her number, Cin didn’t pick up for the first call, although she did pick up for the second.

“You free?” I said, jumping into it immediately. No way did I want to waste another second not knowing whether I’d get to see her tonight. “Want to come over?”

“No,” she said, and my stomach dropped.