Last Chance To Fight

by Ava Ashley

  “Oh really? Is it that Ben guy I met while I was there?” she asked with a smile.

  “What? Ben?” I asked, and then snorted. “No way. Ben is just a friend.”

  “Really? Just a friend? But he’s so good looking.”

  “This just in: I don’t want to date every attractive guy out there,” I told her. “And anyway, he wasn’t so good looking when I met him. He was bald and skinny with bags under his eyes, and he spent a lot of his time throwing up.”

  “Oh, geez, sorry, I didn’t realize,” she said, getting quiet. “You met him at the hospital?”

  “Yeah. We were going through chemo at the same time. He was the only other person there under forty, so we kinda became friends.”

  “Makes sense. Well then, what about this other guy? Who is he?”

  “Oh, his name’s Nate,” I said. “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s not serious, like I said.”

  “Are you still seeing him, though?” Betsy asked.

  “Not really,” I answered. “We didn’t break up before I left, but it doesn’t really make sense to keep dating while we’re on different continents.”

  “No, I guess not,” she agreed. “So why didn’t you break up before you left?”

  “Well,” I said, “I tried to. I told him exactly what I just told you, that it didn’t make sense to keep dating while we’re on different continents.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He argued with me,” I told her. “He said we didn’t have to break up, we could just see what happened.”

  “I see.”

  “So I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

  “Sounds like he’s into you,” Betsy noted.

  “I suppose,” I said. “To tell you the truth, the whole thing was a little weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “When he was arguing with me about staying together, he just seemed a little off. I don’t know what it was. It was just strange.”

  “He was probably upset that you were leaving,” Betsy suggested.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Do you like this guy?”

  I shrugged. “A little, I guess. To be honest, I only really liked him because he kind of reminded me of someone else.”

  “Oh, and who might that someone else be?” Betsy asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “Well,” I hesitated, not quite sure if I wanted to admit it or not. “Nate used to be an MMA fighter, before he moved to Australia.”

  “Oh I see,” she said. “That someone. Still hung up on him, huh?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little,” I admitted, hoping that Betsy wouldn’t keep asking about Hunter. I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it, because I really didn’t know what my real feelings were yet. It didn’t seem possible to still love someone after not speaking to them for nine years. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was grateful when Betsy changed the subject.

  “So are you seriously going right to work after spending the last twelve hours on a plane?” Betsy asked me as we got closer to Santa Monica, where I’d be both living and working from now on. The staff at the clinic was kind enough to secure me a temporary apartment, until I could find something more permanent. They told me it was within walking distance of work, which was exactly what I wanted.

  “Yeah, not for a full work day or anything. I just want to meet the director and check out the layout before I meet with my first patients tomorrow.”

  “Always such a go-getter,” Betsy said as she reached over and patted me on the knee. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

  “Not too much, I guess,” I answered. I hoped she was right. I hoped that life around me hadn’t changed so much that I couldn’t go back to being the person Betsy knew nine years ago.

  Soon we pulled up outside the big office building where I’d be working, and Betsy leaned over to give me a hug.

  “It’s so great to see you, Anna,” she said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you in my life again.”

  “Me too, Bets.”

  “Congratulations on getting a job at the Spenser Clinic, by the way. Ted went there last year when he blew out his knee. It’s supposed to be the best in L.A.”

  “Thanks, I’m really excited to be here, too. I hope I don’t ruin their reputation too much.”

  “Haha, yeah, right. Like you could be anything less than perfect,” Betsy said, shaking her head. She was always perfectly supportive, and I was so grateful that she was there to help me settle back into life in L.A.

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But thanks,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

  “All right. Call me soon, OK? I want you to meet Avery! And Ted wants to see you too.”

  “I’d love to see him,” I said. Ted was Betsy’s high school sweetheart, just like Hunter had been mine. Again, I tried not to be jealous that Betsy’s life had turned out so differently than my own.

  I got out of the car and waved to Betsy as she pulled away, waving frantically at me and almost running into the curb. I laughed and shook my head. Typical Betsy.

  OK, I said to myself as I looked up at the building. Time to start your new life.

  Chapter Three

  Hunter

  I woke up that day the way I always did: a little bit hungry, a little bit turned on, and ready to get going with my day. I guess I’ve always been kind of a morning person, and this was no exception. I hopped out of bed at five-thirty, had a big, healthy breakfast, and went out for a run all before heading to the gym at seven.

  By the time I got there, I was all warmed up and ready for anything my coach might have planned for me. Of course, he was already there when I showed up, looking at his clipboard and making notes as usual. No matter how early I got up, I could never beat him to the gym, not once in all the years I’d known him.

  “Morning, old man,” I said as I gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

  “Watch yourself, Finn,” he warned. “I’ve still got a lot of unresolved issues and I wouldn’t mind taking them out on you.”

  “Isn’t that what makes you a good coach?” I asked. “How thoroughly you enjoy punishing me?”

  “Could be. And I’ve got plans for you today to test out the theory. Are you ready for it?”

  “You know it,” I answered, throwing my gym bag on the floor.

  It wasn’t long before Clive had me sweating up a storm and cursing his name. But that’s what I paid him for. There aren’t many athletes who have to train as hard as MMA fighters, and if I wanted to make it to the CFC championship this year I was going to have to work my ass off. To be a good fighter every single muscle in your body has to be inhumanly strong and toned to perfection. And you have to have endurance, too. Not only that, but your mind has got to be agile. You’ve got to think faster than your opponent, anticipate his moves. That’s why Clive always had me running around in complicated obstacle courses, wearing me out and still testing my brain.

  “Keep it moving! My dead mother, God rest her soul, moves faster than that,” he’d shout, and I’d try not to laugh because it would waste precious energy.

  Not that I really needed Clive to motivate me. I wanted to win the heavyweight tournament and then the championship more than anything. Last year I had come so close to winning, only to ruin my chances by breaking my ankle during a routine practice fight a month before the title fight. Before that happened, I was the favorite to win. And I wanted it badly enough, I knew I could have pulled it off in the end. But I had to go and break my bones and ruin any hope I had of winning. I couldn’t even walk, let alone fight a match. But this year, I was determined to make up for it.

  Ever since I got out of that cast and started putting weight on my foot again, I was hell bent on making the fastest recovery ever. I went to physical therapy several times a week and pushed myself harder than anyone could believe. And now, a week before the tournament semi-final, I was pretty much back to normal. B
ut normal wasn’t good enough. I had to be great. I had to be the best. And the way I figured it, there was only one way to be the best, and it wasn’t dumb luck. I had to work for it.

  “All right, good. Now cool down and do some weights while you wait for Jake to get here,” Clive said, tossing me a towel.

  Jake was a good friend, teammate, and most importantly, the current reigning CFC heavyweight champion. After I hurt myself and had to duck out of the competition, Jake went on to kick the last reigning champion’s ass. Which was great, because really nobody deserved it more than Jake. He was a young guy, just starting his career, and about as nice as you could get and still beat people up for a living.

  I did what Clive said and set about lifting some weights, and pretty soon Jake and Trina, who was my manager and Jake’s girlfriend, showed up.

  “Hey, man,” I said, shaking Jake’s hand. “Hey, Trina, sorry, you probably don’t want to touch me right now.”

  “You’re right about that,” she said with a smile.

  She was a smartass, and I liked her. It probably seemed like a conflict of interest, having the girlfriend of my number one competition as my manager, but I trusted them. When Jake and Trina started dating, he already had a manager he liked, and my old one had been long gone ever since my injury. Trina had a background in PR and was looking for work, so I took her on. So far, I didn’t have any complaints.

  “So, you guys are going to spar, or what?” she asked.

  “That’s the plan,” Jake said.

  Sparring was another important aspect of my training. You could run through obstacle courses until your legs were jelly, it was still not going to prepare you for taking on another sentient being in the ring. So Clive arranged for me to fight with other members of the team as often as possible, and today it happened to be Jake.

  “Good. I need the practice for when I kick your ass at the championship,” I said, smacking him on the back.

  “We’ll see if you even get there, old man,” Jake said, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. “If I recall correctly you’ve got to win a semi-final and a final to get there first.”

  “Oh, I’ll get there,” I said. “You can count on it.”

  “Well, I hope you do,” Jake said. “I’d love to kick your ass and get paid for it for once, instead of doing it here for free all the time.”

  “Jake, you seem confused,” I said. “I wonder if maybe I’ve hit you in the head too many times. Kick my ass? I don’t think so. But you’re right about the getting paid part.”

  Winning the heavyweight tournament and then taking on Jake for the championship title would definitely be great for my ego, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about the prize money. I was doing fine for myself at the moment. Actually, I would have been fine with much less, but I had other people to think about. The prize money could help my mom pay off her mortgage, for one thing. I had wanted to take that load off her back for years, and now that I was close to being able to do it, I was determined.

  “All right. Well, you two have fun,” Trina said. “And don’t forget your physical therapy appointment this afternoon Hunter. New therapist, remember.”

  “Oh, right. Man, it’s a bummer about Oliver,” I said, remembering suddenly the change of plans. Trina had told me a few weeks ago that Oliver was leaving town and I’d have to get a new physical therapist. I wasn’t happy about it. After all, Oliver was the one who’d gotten me walking, and then running again, after I’d hurt myself. I didn’t want to have to get used to someone else this close to the tournament. But I guess I didn’t have any choice.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got someone good for you. At the Spenser Clinic, so you know she’s good,” Trina said.

  “She, huh? Interesting,” I remarked. “You sure she’s going to be up for the job?”

  “Oh please,” Trina said, rolling her eyes. “Did you know that women can do all kinds of things these days? We can even vote.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, part of Oliver’s job was to cause me extreme pain several times a week. That’s how you know it’s working. Are you sure she’ll be strong enough?”

  “Well, you’ll find out this afternoon. I’ll just tell her what you said and I’m sure she won’t mind hurting you,” Trina said. “Now, I’ll leave you two to have your little play-fight and I’ll be back to give you a ride in a few hours. OK?”

  “All right, Trina,” I said.

  “Bye, T,” Jake said, leaning in to give her a kiss.

  “Come on, Jake,” I said. “Don’t let her soften you up before I beat the snot out of you. It’s not as fun that way.”

  Chapter Four

  Anna

  After going into my new office for a few hours, then going home to unpack and have a little something to eat, I fell asleep from utter exhaustion pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next morning I woke up early with the hope of going through my new patient files before work and getting started with their treatment plans.

  I had gotten through about half of them, along with my breakfast, by the time I had to get ready and leave for work. I would have liked to have been more prepared, but I figured I could look over the others on my lunch break and it wouldn’t be a problem.

  I put on my work clothes: a pair of black yoga pants, running shoes, and a new blue T-shirt with the Spenser Clinic logo on it. One thing I liked about my new job was that I didn’t have to think too much about what to wear to work. The outfit had to be comfortable and functional, and that was about it.

  The first half of my work day went really well. I met with my new patients, listened to their stories, and started their treatments. I usually spent the first half hour massaging their legs or shoulders or backs, trying to work out the scar tissue and excess fluid from around their injuries. This was usually quite painful for the patients, so getting a massage from a physical therapist is not quite like getting a relaxing massage at a spa. But, despite some complaints about that, my new patients seemed happy and a few even said they felt better after our session. Not bad for my first day on the job.

  When it came time for a break, I grabbed my remaining patient files and headed to the first floor of the building, where there was a small café I thought I’d try for lunch. I ordered a grilled chicken salad and started looking through the files, making notes. Everything was going smoothly until I got to my last patient of the day, and almost spit out my food.

  The name Hunter Finn stood out like a sore thumb at the top of the file. I looked at it again, staring at the page in absolute disbelief. Was I seeing things? Did that say really say Hunter Finn? Hunter Finn, the man I loved with all my heart in high school, but had not spoken to in nine whole years? Could it really be the same person?

  He had the same name, certainly, and although it was an unusual name it wouldn’t be unbelievable for someone else to be named Hunter Finn. It could just be a coincidence. I flipped through the file, looking for more clues. Hunter Finn, my new patient and hopefully not my ex-boyfriend, I learned, had a broken ankle from a sports injury about a year ago. He’d been doing physical therapy for the past nine months at another clinic.

  Well then, I thought, that would have to be a pretty big coincidence. Thanks to the internet and my never-ending curiosity about Hunter’s life, I knew more or less what he’d been up to for the past nine years. I knew that he’d become a pretty successful MMA fighter. And I knew that he was slated to win the championship last year, but had to pull out of the competition at the last minute because of an injury. Specifically: a broken ankle. This had to be the same person. Hunter Finn, my old flame, was now my new patient. I thought I was going to be sick.

  I stood up quickly from the table and gathered my files, not at all sure what I should do. What could I do? I wanted to leave, to run away. But of course I couldn’t do that. It was my first day on the job. I wanted to make a good impression. What would they think if I just disappeared? They probably wouldn’t think much. They’d just fire me
. Leaving was not an option. I was just going to have to face him. I took a deep breath, and then another. I steeled myself, and headed back to the elevator.

  After all, I had wanted to see him again anyway. I’d be fooling myself if I didn’t admit that had at least something to do with why I wanted to move back to L.A. in the first place. But this? I wasn’t ready for this. I looked down at what I was wearing. It could have been worse, I supposed. At least the pants and shirt fit well. And I didn’t think blue was such a bad color on me. But still, it would have been better to see him again after nine years wearing something killer, with my makeup done perfectly, my hair expertly styled. I wanted to knock his socks off. As it was, he was going to have to take his socks off himself so that I could massage his ankle. Oh God, how on earth was I going to get through this?

  You’re just going to have to do it, I said to myself. You’ve beaten cancer. This should be easy.

  Back in the office, I tried to focus my energy on my next three patients. We worked on their treatments and exercises, and all the while I did my best to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the clock ticking closer and closer to four-thirty, when Hunter would show up, my last patient of the day.

  I was still with Julie, a young college student who’d snapped a tendon in her knee playing field hockey, when I spotted his unmistakable figure walking through the door. He looked perfect in his workout clothes. His tight white T-shirt highlighted his broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted arms. I felt myself go weak in the knees at nothing more than the sight of him.

  And then, right behind him, a woman came in the door. She looked professional, in a blue blazer and tight black jeans. She walked up to the desk and gestured toward Hunter as she spoke to Kathy, the receptionist. Kathy gestured to the waiting area and Hunter sat down. The woman put her hand on his shoulder, said something, then waved goodbye with a smile as she walked out the door. She was annoyingly beautiful.

  If I thought just seeing Hunter again was going to be hard, seeing him again with another woman was even harder. I racked my brain for a way to escape, and turned to my patient.