An ugly seed of doubt sprouted in response to that thought, and I shook my head like I could shake it away.
I had a job to do, and needed to practice what I'd preached to my brothers their whole lives.
Eye on the prize.
And this time, the prize was a pretty big one. Sticking in with Mickey Flynn for the next year of my life as his new golden boy fighter so that me and my family could get out from under his thumb. If I screwed it up? If Mick sensed for even a second that I wasn't giving him my all, he was going to go back on his promise to find Bash a lucrative fight to replace the one he’d had to withdraw from because of a broken hand.
Any excuse for Mick to lock on tighter. To sink his teeth into my jugular and hang on like a pit bull, he’d take it, and I wasn't about to give it to him.
"You've got a problem. I can see it on your face, so talk to Dr. Reid and let me see if I can help." He bent low and pulled two water bottles from the mini-fridge and tossed me one.
"Not likely," I said, catching the chilled plastic with one hand. Reid knew the deal I'd made with Mickey, but he was the only one. I still hadn’t worked up the nuts to tell Bash. He would've felt responsible for the situation if I told him, and after the couple months he'd had, that was the last thing I wanted. Olivia and he had never seemed happier, and she was even growing on me. She planned on moving in soon. They were on their way to a good future, and I wanted him to get a chance to enjoy it for a while.
I'd only told Reid because I wanted to make sure someone knew I'd gone to see Mickey to make the deal in the first place, just in case I didn't come back. It was one thing if the motherfucker killed me, but I sure as shit didn't want him getting away with it.
Mick was a businessman though, and at the end of the day, a dead me was a lot less valuable than a live one. To Reid's credit, he'd kept his mouth shut so far, but that was dicey too. Soon, I was going to have to cop to the truth, and it wasn't going to be fun, but for the time being, I got to see Bash totally, straight up happy for a while.
It was worth whatever came next.
"There's no point in talking about it. I’m stuck with her until Mickey says different.” I met Reid's perceptive gaze and marveled at how much he looked like a man now.
He was growing up right in front of me and it was eerie as shit. It seemed like yesterday that we were in the park and I was showing him how to throw a baseball. He was only a little less than three years younger than me, but he'd managed to keep his innocence for a lot longer than me or Bash had. Taking a part in preserving that might have been the only really good thing I'd done in my life.
I spent a lot of years listening to him talk endlessly about kickball games at school, or his favorite teacher, or why Godzilla would beat any Transformer in a fight. And when he brought home some stupid macaroni necklace, or a shitty little bud vase that looked more like a dildo, I was the one who made a big deal out of it, proudly displaying it on the plywood bookshelf in our shared bedroom.
It probably also helped that my mother had been a little easier on him. I was mostly convinced it wasn't because she'd mellowed or because he was a better kid than either me or Bash. She was just fucking tired. Beating the shit out of kids all day for years on end really took it out of a person.
I pushed back that sick feeling that always came with thoughts of her and folded my arms behind my head, refusing to get sucked down that ghetto-ass, pothole-filled Memory Lane again.
Reid was shaking his head, a bemused smile on his face. “If the way she bolted out of here with her face on fire and your expression when I walked in are indicators, I’m thinking Mickey will be able to see why this is a bad idea.”
And maybe he would. It really would be for the best.
But then my thoughts flipped back to the sparring we’d done. I hated to admit it, but she was right about one thing. I’d spent a lot of my time managing the gym and trying to stay on top of Bash and Reid’s developing careers. So much, that maybe I hadn’t been putting enough into my own. There was a hole in my defense, and a fighter like Claus Nicholson would exploit that every chance he got. I’d managed to stay undefeated so far because the guys I’d fought weren’t in his class. To assume the competition would stay this easy when I was trying to break into the elite was foolish. A manager who could see that and wanted to take measures to fix it was a manager I wanted in my corner.
Now if I could just get past wanting her in my bed, there was a slim chance in hell this could actually work…
Two hours later, I found myself sprawled on the couch in front of the TV not watching an infomercial about some protein supplement when my phone rang. I hadn’t been lying when I told Kayla I was going to jerk off in the shower, but it had been a sad, desperate affair that was totally unsatisfying and only succeeded in putting me in an even shittier mood. So when I saw her number, I almost ignored the call. I was in no shape for productive, rational conversation.