Worth The Fight (Hard To Love Book 1)

by T A. McKay

  “Yeah, I'm sure that’s just what’s gonna happen. I give him a week before he runs away with his tail between his legs.” I get up from my chair and walk to the door. I'm just about to close the door behind me when I hear Coach shouting.

  “I mean it, Zeke. I refuse to find another fucking trainer for you. If you chase this one off then you’re on your own!” I laugh as I close the door. It’s not a case of if but when.

  ****

  I'm standing under the scalding hot water in my shower at home, letting the heat soak through my tense body. I hear my cell phone ring and for about three seconds I consider answering it, but the feeling of the water on my stiff shoulders is too pleasant for me to move. Since I haven’t been able to do any weights or spar I’ve been putting a lot of effort into cardio, and using muscles that I don’t usually need. I thought lifting weights gave me the most punishing workout, especially trying to bulk up for a fight, but running apparently can be just as painful.

  I move my head under the spray, and watch the water drain away. My mind is distracted by thoughts of meeting my new trainer tomorrow, finding out who Coach thinks is the perfect match for me. I hate the fact that I haven’t even met him yet and he’s the one with all the power. Some random guy gets to decide when I start fighting again. I think that part is what angers me more than anything. Someone who doesn’t know me gets to make the most important decision in my life. I look up and let the water pour over my face before shutting the shower off.

  I grab a towel from the rack next to the sink and wrap it around my waist. Walking to the sink unit, I use a hand towel to clear the steam from the fogged up mirror. I throw the towel into the dirty linen basket and look at my reflection. Thankfully all the bruising from the fight is gone. I didn’t think the one around my left eye was ever going to disappear, it was like a daily reminder of how badly I’d fucked up that day. I just keep thinking I was lucky there’s nothing permanent done, well nothing that’s completely life changing other than my hurt pride and my damaged wrist. Hopefully I’ll be able to convince this new guy that I'm ready to get going. I need to make sure I’m one hundred and ten percent ready for my rematch and that means training properly as soon as possible. I refuse to go down at the hands of Dwayne again, he will only get the best of me once.

  I rub my hand over my jaw and contemplate shaving but I like the stubble. I’ve no plans for the next few days that requires a clean look so fuck it. If this new guy doesn’t approve then he can go fuck himself. I laugh to myself. I’ve already painted a picture of this guy, building him up to be a bastard before I’ve even met him. Maybe I should give him a shot, see how good he actually is before judging him. I shake my head and walk into my bedroom, grabbing a pair of boxer shorts on the way past my dresser. Dropping the towel on the floor I throw the boxers on the bed before collapsing butt naked on the mattress, too tired to even attempt to put them on. I grab my cell from the nightstand and see a missed call from Asha. I told her to call me about getting together, but I'm really not in the mood for company tonight, especially hers. Don’t get me wrong, Asha is a really nice girl. She is sweet and sexy, but I just don’t have the energy tonight. I want to have an early night so I can hit the gym before it opens tomorrow and get in a workout before introductions are made.

  I got a text from Coach earlier telling me to be at the gym for ten o’clock, and that I better be on time. I have my meeting with Bryce at ten thirty. That’s my new coach’s name, Bryce Tanner. I know that he's an ex fighter, but his name has me picturing some preppy guy who has never stepped foot into the cage. Bryce Tanner, yeah, that’s not the name of a guy who knows how to handle himself. I know I'm judging him and already trying to find a reason to hate him but I can’t help myself. I’ve always found it hard to open up to people. You can’t give people the power of having your secrets, to believe they won’t use them against you.

  I'm pulled from my thoughts when my phone rings again. I see Asha’s name on the screen and I press the side button to mute the ringing. I throw the phone on the other side of the bed and get up, putting my underwear on before going through to the kitchen. I need to get something to eat before it gets too late, I hate eating late but I missed dinner earlier. I open the fridge and take a look to see what’s inside. Nothing really grabs my attention and I make a mental note to drop by the grocery store tomorrow. I'm running low on eggs and milk, the two main staples in my diet. I suddenly remember that I have some chicken and rice in the freezer and I mentally pat myself on the back for cooking too much. I hunt for the Tupperware containing the food and put it in the microwave to defrost. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and walk to the door leading outside to sit out on the back step. It’s a nice night, warm and dry with a clear sky. I like this time of year, fall is one of my favorite seasons. It’s not too hot and the humidity has settled, not like the height of the summer when it feels like you're breathing through syrup. Training in that weather feels like you could die, especially if you’re doing it outside. I try to stick to the gym during the height of Summer, using the weights and treadmill to keep fit. Honestly the fighting itself is enough to tone my muscles and keep my stamina up but I push myself further to make myself faster, stronger. The need to win is my driving force, second place really means first loser, and that’s not acceptable. The sting of losing to Dwayne is still fresh and I think it’s harder to get over than my actual injury.

  I sit and listen to the noises from my street, letting the sounds of the kids having fun relax me. I love living here, the buzz of the neighborhood reminds me of home. I grew up in a small town, in the type of place where everyone knew everyone else and their business. When I was a kid it was great, I used to play outside with my friends until the streetlights came on and never got into trouble, well nothing too serious. I loved high school, we spent the weekends at the drive in and partying at each other’s houses, it was like the stereotypical high school movie where everyone was happy. I know it probably wasn’t that experience for everyone I knew, but I was in the popular crowd so life seemed perfect. When I turned fourteen I suddenly realized that something didn’t feel right, that I wasn’t interested in things the other kids were. That’s when the small town feeling got too much and hiding my secret became too difficult. That’s when my dad decided that fighting was what I needed. According to him, I had to learn to be a man and punching another man was the perfect way to do it. I left town soon after my eighteenth birthday, the feeling of being constantly watched by everyone got too much. I couldn’t do anything without someone being there to make sure I was moving in the direction my dad want me to go. So I packed a bag and jumped on a train. I ended up in the city, hungry and alone until Coach found me sleeping in the local park. He took me to the gym and gave me a sleeping bag and a space on the floor. I helped out around the gym until he saw me having a go on the punching bag after hours, and the rest as they say, is history. Once I started winning fights, the money started coming in. Now I make my living doing the one thing I love and do best. The house I own isn’t big. It has one bedroom and a patch of grass out the back that’s my yard, but size doesn’t matter to me. It’s mine and no one can take it from me. I paid for it in cash when I won my first big tournament. I was determined to not waste the money on anything stupid, but something I could make my own.

  I hear the microwave beep but even my hunger can’t get me to move from my spot. I close my eyes and lean back against the doorframe, looking up towards the sky to let the sun warm my face. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a while and it’s with the knowledge that tomorrow I might be able to return to the cage. The thought of being able to train again makes my heart beat a little faster and my muscles twitch with anticipation. The fighting, the cage, the burn of my muscles, I’ve missed every second of it. Now that I'm so close to getting it all back, I'm scared that I want it too much and karma’s going to get her claws out and make me pay for all my past digressions. Maybe I need to take a different approach with this new trainer, may
be if I act like his best friend, be accommodating and welcoming he will clear me fit to fight. I laugh at myself, there is no way in this life that I can be that kind of guy. It’s not in my nature to be Mr. Accommodating. I know that when I meet this Bryce tomorrow there is a very good chance that he will be leaving the gym without a job. Coach seems to think that we’re a perfect match but I don’t see how, I don’t think I'm a perfect match for anyone.

  My rumbling stomach finally gets me up and walking back into the kitchen. If I'm going back to training then I need to keep my strength and calories up, losing muscle mass is not part of the plan. I have eight weeks until the rematch with Dwayne. Eight weeks to train and get my strength back and then some. Eight weeks to become the fighter that I know I can be. He might have beaten me last time, but I can guarantee that will never happen again. Dwayne Wyatt isn’t invincible, and I’m going to prove it to the world.

  Chapter Three

  Zeke

  When I arrived at the gym this morning I’d already made the decision that no matter what this new coach was going to say, I was not leaving today without getting in the ring. I would be sparring before the day was out, with or without permission. I need to be able to use my fists to fight again and release the tension that kicking a strike shield just can’t touch. There’s nothing better than feeling your fists connecting with someone’s body and then for their muscles to give way under your knuckles. You need to know how to move and place your body and how to control your own muscles, to tense them to protect yourself from impact, to create enough force to hurt. Anyone can throw a punch, but it takes great skill to control it. In a fight you want to win, but there’s also great respect between fighters, so you don’t want to lose control and cause serious damage. Well unless you’re Dwayne. I hate that motherfucker with every bone in my body. He fights dirty and gives the sport a bad reputation, he has put more men in the hospital than any other fighter I know. That in itself would make me hate him, but he has a way of intimidating his opponents by taunting them and making them feel like they have to watch their backs outside the cage. This is a hooligan’s sport fought by gentlemen, and he's dragging all our reputations into the gutter with him.

  Angus is busy wrapping my wrists when I see Coach walking to the front door. I look at the clock on the gym wall and I’m surprised to see that it’s nearly ten already. I’d let myself in just after eight after a shit night’s sleep. I’d tossed and turned the whole night, unable to switch my brain off.

  “There you go, all done. You’re sure that it’s okay for you to be going back in the cage? You’ve had the all clear, right?” I smile at him before getting up from the bench and moving over to the punch bag. I don’t want to lie to him, so ignoring the question is the best option.

  “Zeke, that wasn’t an actual answer.” I hear him shout from behind me and I wave over my shoulder, again not answering him. I'm about to throw my first punch in months when movement from across the room catches my eye. I stop myself and hold onto the punch bag as I watch Coach talking to a guy just inside the main door. This stranger’s back is to me but I can see that he has large and built shoulders which tell me that he has trained at some point in this life, unlike Ethan. Ethan was far too skinny to tell me what to do, how can someone train something they have no knowledge or experience in? I knocked him on his ass with one hit more than once. I continue to watch as Coach and who I assume will be my new coach stand there, and I can’t seem to get my eyes to leave the guy. I want him to turn around, I need to see him from the front. I can’t explain the need to see what he looks like, all I know is that the urge nearly has me walking over and turning him around myself. I don’t know how long I stare, but Coach finally points in my direction and my breath catches in my throat as the stranger turns around.

  My body stills completely, my blood feels like it’s frozen in my veins as I take in Bryce Tanner. He’s taller than Coach and probably rivals my six foot four frame. He looks toned and muscular if the tight shirt he’s wearing is anything to go by. The shirt is tucked into his pants, which highlights his thin waist and wide shoulders. On closer inspection it looks like he trains, a lot. My eyes travel up his body until they reach his face, which I realize is just as impressive as his body. His dark hair is cut into a messy style and it looks like he's spent the morning running his fingers through it. I can’t see his eyes from across the gym but I can feel their piercing stare. I feel like I’m being scrutinized by eyes that see everything. He smiles at something Coach says and my heart stutters at how sexy he looks.

  I shake my head violently as I listen to the thoughts going through my mind. What the fuck’s going on? I'm not looking at some sexy woman here, this is my new coach, my new male coach. My reaction to him is freaking me out but I only have a few seconds to try to work out what’s happening before Coach and Bryce walk over to me.

  “Zeke, let me introduce you to your new coach. This is Bryce Tanner.” I note that he emphasizes the words ‘new coach’ and his message isn’t lost on me. He's already spoken to me this morning about giving Bryce a chance and I promised not to be my usual dickhead self, but that’s the best I could offer him. I reach out to take the hand that Bryce has offered to be polite. When my skin connects with his an electric current sparks from his hand to mine. It feels like static electricity and it makes me pull my hand away instantly. I look down expecting to see my skin red and marked, but there’s nothing there. I finally meet Bryce’s eyes and see a look of confusion that mirrors my own. It takes us both a few seconds to recover and it’s Bryce that manages it first.

  “Hi, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Zeke.” I’m shocked when I hear his voice, I was not expecting the English accent that comes out. He sounds like Daniel Craig and the effect it has on me is a little startling. I know I need to speak but my mind has stopped working and my words are stuck in my throat. I’m well aware that I’m standing here like an idiot just staring at the man in front of me.

  “Why the fuck do you have wraps on? I thought I told you there would be no training until Bryce gave you the all clear?” I look at Coach, grateful for him saving me, but pissed that he’s breaking the silence by ripping me a new one. I see the corner of Bryce’s mouth curl up and it takes everything in me not to punch him, to show them how well my hand works.

  “Yeah you did, but I decided that maybe I knew more than the new guy.” The smartass answer flies out of my mouth without a thought, but I figure the sooner Bryce knows I'm not a pushover the better. He might be here to help me get back to full fitness, but that’s all he’ll have control over.

  “Well the new guy says that if you hit that bag before I check your hand, you will be on a week’s suspension. That means no cage, no workouts, no gym time.” What the fuck? I just stand and stare at Bryce feeling like my ass has been handed to me. No way he just tried to lay down the law, he's only been here two fucking minutes.

  I'm pulled from my staring contest when Coach lets out a hearty laugh. I look over to him to see that he’s looking between both of us with an amused expression on his face.

  “Well looks like you boys will get on just great so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” With those parting words he walks away with his shoulders still shaking with laughter. Fucker. I turn back to Bryce and give him my best ‘don’t fuck with me’ death stare, trying to let him know that I won’t take any shit. I need him to know that I'm actually the boss, he's just here to make sure I have everything I need.

  “I need you to remove the wraps. I'm going to grab my bag and get changed, have them off by the time I get back.” And with that he walks away leaving me standing there open mouthed as he exits the building. I’m still standing there when he returns a few minutes later with a gym bag over his shoulder. I'm shocked with his dismissal but I'm even more surprised when I find myself removing the wraps.

  Bryce

  I walk into the locker room and rush over to the open locker that Eddie said would be there for me. I
drop my bag to the ground before I collapse onto the wooden bench in the middle of the room and lean my head in my hands. The introduction to Zeke hadn’t gone anything like I imagined. When I’d been offered this job I had taken time to get to know the man that the public see. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy placement and that I was going to have to fight for control, but when I saw the man I’d be training all that vanished from my head. My mouth went dry as I took in all his muscles and tattoos, but it’s his eyes that took my breath away. Those eyes are something I will never forget. Like bright green beacons and in complete contrast to his almost black hair. It took all my control to look away and when we shook hands I swear it felt like someone had just handed me a live wire. The feeling of his skin against mine was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Shit.

  When I moved to America to take this job, I’d decided that I wouldn’t hook up with anyone because I needed to give this once in a lifetime opportunity my full attention. I couldn’t risk the fact that I'm gay getting out, not that I'm ashamed, far from it in fact. I just know how people in this profession think, and the fact that I like guys could be a big problem. I refuse to lie about who I am, but if they didn’t see me with anyone then I wouldn’t need to talk about my preferences. It was a great plan and one that I had thought long and hard about, and it would have worked great apart from him. Apparently Zeke Raine is going to be a temptation I don’t need. I just need to remember one thing: the guy isn’t gay.