Dirty Boxing

by Harper St. George

  “I’m not doing this to you. Nick is special, and so is what I have with him.” She found herself smiling as she said that. It was true. Despite the fact that her heart ached and she could barely breathe every time she thought of what she’d overheard between him and Alex, she thought they had something special.

  Her dad looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d just said that, but then he shook his head. “He’s gone, Julian. I don’t have a choice.”

  Panic gripped her, making her heart pound. “You can’t do that. He has fans, and they’re counting on him to be in that tournament. We’ve spent a lot of money advertising this thing and his face is on most of the ads. If you cut him now, the fans will go crazy. They won’t like it.” She took another deep breath because her voice was starting to rise. “That’s not the publicity you want.”

  “Fuck!” He barked out the word and shook his head. “Then he’s gone after.”

  “You’re going to cut the middleweight champion?”

  He scoffed. “He won’t win.”

  “Have you seen the odds? They have him winning. I don’t know what you have against Nick, but he’s a good fighter. He was champion at Imperial.” She was getting tired of the way he kept shortchanging Nick.

  He chuckled, but there wasn’t any humor in the sound. “The good fighters started to bail from Imperial before he made champion. I could’ve bulked up to middleweight and beaten the clowns he fought.”

  Heat crawled across her skin from a volatile combination of frustration and anger. He was deliberately being an ass about Nick. “Right, and that’s why you wanted him here. That’s why you wanted his face on your company . . . because he isn’t any good.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm.

  “Look, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter, Dad. He’s a good athlete and he’s good for the WFC. If you need to fire someone over this, fire me.” She’d do whatever it took to keep Nick from getting hurt because of their relationship.

  “What? No. I’m not going to fire my own daughter.”

  “Then I’ll quit,” she said, putting her hands on her hips to match his stance. “If you fire him over this, I’ll quit.”

  “Julian?” He stared at her with his mouth opening and closing, speechless for once.

  As if on cue, his phone rang into the tense silence. “It’s Al,” Deb called into the room.

  “Damn, I’ve got to take this, but we’re not done.” He walked toward his desk and pointed at her.

  Yeah, they were done. Either Nick kept his job, or she left the WFC. There was no compromise for her.

  Nick jabbed impatiently at the buttons on his car radio, not in the mood to listen to jabbering hosts or annoying commercials. After several fruitless attempts to find something that didn’t irritate him, he shut the radio off, letting silence fill the car.

  Four times. That was how many times he’d tried calling Jules since he’d punched Kovac in his dumbass pig face yesterday afternoon. And four times he’d gotten her voice mail, but he hadn’t left her a message. There was no point, seeing as he was the one waiting for her to say something.

  Ever since they’d returned from Chicago, she’d been slipping away, bit by bit, and he needed to know why. He’d had enough of the evasive behavior, the awkward tension between them. He knew that opening up wasn’t the easiest thing in the world for her, but he had a feeling there was more going on than just that. And as much as it scared him, he needed answers. So as the sun set over Las Vegas, coloring the sky above the mountains with streaks of orange and purple, he was driving to her apartment. He’d had enough of her not answering her damn phone. Enough of wondering if letting himself fall for her all over again had been a colossal mistake. Enough of waiting for her to pull the plug on them. Enough of sneaking around.

  He felt worn out, wrung dry, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of obsessing over all the reasons why she was pulling away.

  Several minutes later, he turned into the parking lot of her building and pulled his car into one of the visitor spaces. He cut the ignition, listening to the ticking of the engine as he sat in the car. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought. He just wanted to talk, to find out what was going on with her. With them. Whatever it was, they’d clear the air, talk it out, and put it behind them.

  Unless Alex was right, and she was planning to run again.

  What happened if a person simply didn’t know how to love? Her parents hadn’t shown her much affection growing up, and definitely hadn’t modeled any kind of loving adult relationship for their daughter. What if love was a language Jules had never learned? He’d promised that he could be brave for the both of them until she wasn’t scared anymore, but what if that never happened? He could try to fix what was broken, but was someone truly broken if they’d never been whole in the first place?

  With a long exhale, he got out of the car and scanned the parking lot for Jules’ car in its assigned spot. Good. She was home. He pulled open the door to her building, stepping into the entryway. Before he could ask himself any more terrifying questions, he pressed the button beside her name. Several seconds went by and he pressed it again, wondering if he’d have to wait for someone to come by and let him into the building.

  “Yes?” Jules’ voice crackled through the intercom.

  “Hey. It’s me. Nick.”

  “Hey.”

  The intercom popped and hissed, filling the silence that hung between them.

  Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Can I come up?”

  “Oh . . . I, uh . . . sure. Yeah.” The intercom went dead. Shit. Not exactly a warm reception. There was a soft buzz and then the door to the main lobby popped open with a click.

  Time to find out what the hell was going on.

  A couple of minutes later, he knocked on her door, belatedly wondering if he should’ve brought flowers on the off chance that she was pissed at him for something. He was so thrown by the tension between them that he couldn’t even think straight.

  She opened the door wearing a gray sweatshirt hanging down one shoulder and a pair of black leggings. Just like it always did, his heart kicked in his chest when he saw her. At least that hadn’t changed.

  “Hi,” she said, biting her lip and then motioning him inside after a second. No kiss. No hug. He stepped inside, moving into the living room. Jules disappeared into the kitchen. “Do you want some water? Tea? Are you hungry? I could—”

  “No, Jules,” he said, cutting her off. “But I do want to talk.”

  She emerged from the galley kitchen with an almost sheepish look on her face. “Right. Yeah.” She nodded and crossed over to the couch, sitting down, not looking at him.

  He sat down beside her, resisting the urge to touch her. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, I’ve had enough. You don’t return my calls. You don’t text me. I’ve barely seen you since we got back from Chicago. Whatever this is, we need to talk it through.”

  She looked up, picking at a cuticle. Then she pasted on a smile and shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve just been super swamped with work, and I was trying to give you a little space to focus on training.”

  She was lying. He could see it on her face plain as day. The way her blue eyes flicked up to the ceiling, the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze, the way she fidgeted.

  “I don’t buy that for a second. What’s going on?”

  “Let it go, Nick.” She rose from the couch and paced to the window, her arms wrapped around her middle. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a creeping sensation worked its way up his spine. Something was wrong, more wrong than he’d thought.

  “No. Something’s up with you, and I want to know what it is.”

  She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling. He waited, feeling as though his neck were under a guil
lotine, and that she could end him with a single tug. “I can’t lie to you anymore.”

  Her words rocked into him, shutting down his brain, confusing his heart. He forced himself to ask the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “Lie about what?”

  With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she moved closer, perching on the arm of the couch. “My dad knows about us.”

  He flinched. “What? How?”

  Her nostrils flared. “He put the pieces together after you decked Sam Kovac for saying whatever he said about me.” Her tone was tinged with anger, as though she was blaming him for the situation, and something about that anger fueled his own.

  He held his hands up in front of him. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted on keeping us a secret in the first place.”

  “Because of the nonfraternization clause!” Frustration ripped through her voice. “I was trying to protect you, but it didn’t matter in the end because you had to go and be a hero, and now he knows that you violated your contract.”

  “What do you mean, it didn’t matter in the end?”

  She shook her head, letting out a bitter half sigh, half laugh. “He’s seriously considering cutting you if you don’t win the tournament, he’s so angry.”

  Nick could feel everything he’d worked for—the belt, a future with Jules, a shot at real, lasting happiness—slipping out of his grip, and a desperate anger clawed at his chest. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry if we’d been honest with him in the first place.”

  “And maybe he wouldn’t have found out at all if you hadn’t punched someone, Nick!”

  Nick ground his teeth together and pushed up off the couch, walking to the other side of the room. Tension radiated down his neck, across his shoulders. “So this is why you’ve been avoiding me?” He turned to face her. “Why you don’t answer my calls? Because you didn’t want me to know that your dad had found out about us? That he wants to fucking fire me?”

  She shrugged, not meeting his eyes again, and that’s when he knew there was more.

  He could feel his patience starting to slip. “Cut the shit, Jules.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm down, even though he felt as though he was trying to scramble back up a cliff. “Just talk to me. I’m sick of this.”

  She inhaled sharply and let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to get into all of this before the tournament. I don’t want to make you lose focus. I thought we could talk about everything after.”

  He shook his head, still feeling as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “We’re already into it, Jules. What did you think was going to happen when you started avoiding me? That I’d just let you push me away?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be in a relationship.”

  “You mean you don’t know how to let anyone in. That’s really what this is about, isn’t it?”

  She released a mirthless laugh. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend I’m holding back and you’re not. You can’t put this all on me, Nick.”

  He frowned, confusion tempering his anger. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard you and Alex talking in Chicago, okay? I know you don’t believe in me. In us. But even worse . . . It’s almost like you’re waiting for me to fail. Expecting it, even.”

  And there was the other shoe. “You overheard me and Alex? So you kept that from me too?” His voice was full of accusatory anger, and he held on to that anger, wanting to feel that and not the pain gnawing at his raw edges.

  She jabbed her finger at him, stabbing the air, something sad and desperate in her eyes. “Don’t turn this around on me. I didn’t tell you because I thought you had enough to deal with and we could talk about it after the tournament. But it hurt me, Nick. You told me I could fall for you and you’d catch me. But you didn’t really mean that, did you? You were waiting for me to fuck up so you could bail. Do you know how much it sucked to stand there and listen to you basically tell Alex that you don’t have faith in our relationship?”

  “You did run before, Jules. You ran and left me as if I didn’t mean a damn thing to you.”

  “I’ve never denied that. I ran because I didn’t know how not to.” Tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re protecting yourself too, Nick. You accuse me of being closed off, but you never talked to me about any of your doubts about us. If you really wanted to fix it, you’d talk to me, not Alex.”

  She was right. He was protecting himself, holding back. He’d never fully lowered his shields with her—not after the way she’d ripped his heart to pieces in Chicago.

  A silence fell over the room, neither of them speaking for several moments. He felt bad that she’d overheard the argument with Alex, but she’d kept it from him. She’d avoided him, lied to him, pushed him away in some misguided attempt at protecting him. Despite everything, she still wasn’t letting him in. To Nick, the truth was plain and simple: she didn’t love him the way he loved her because she didn’t know how. And fuck if he knew how to fix that. Love wasn’t something to be won or taken. It was something you either gave, or you didn’t. And Jules didn’t know how to give it.

  And that realization fucking hurt.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked, blinking back tears.

  “I don’t know, Jules.” All he knew was that he hurt. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. “I can’t do this with you right now.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice cracking on the last word and sending pain ripping through him.

  “I just . . . I have to focus on the tournament. I can’t deal with all of this right now.” His mind spun, thoughts churning like a storm. He felt both numb and overwhelmed at the same time.

  “Where does that leave us?” she asked, her voice quiet, her eyes bright with tears.

  “I don’t know. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” she said, her voice raspy.

  He nodded, and then turned and walked out of her apartment, feeling like he was leaving his heart behind. But he didn’t know how to fix her. To fix them. He saw now that he’d been wanting the impossible.

  And if he had any hope of surviving this, he needed to accept that.

  21

  Jules stared at the door, unable to believe that he was gone. He’d been so angry, but he hadn’t denied anything she’d accused him of. Wrapping her trembling arms around herself as if she could stop the pain from shredding her heart, she took in a gasping breath, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled down her cheeks.

  How could they make their relationship work if he was always waiting for her to leave? He’d always be holding himself back. She wiped at the tears, but more fell down to replace them.

  Walking to her bedroom, she retrieved her phone from where it was charging on her nightstand. She was feeling too many things—pain, anger, heartbreak—to keep them all inside. She needed to talk to Megan, the one person who had always had her back. Leaning against her pillows, she called her.

  “Hey, Jules. What’s up?” Megan’s voice was so friendly and warm that Jules felt a lump well in her throat. She couldn’t speak. “Jules?”

  “I’m here.” The words were forced, and she took a breath to stop even more tears from falling.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Jules shook her head. “No . . . I . . . I think Nick and I just broke up.”

  “What happened?” Megan asked, her voice full of love and concern.

  Jules launched into everything. From Nick’s conversation with his brother to the fight in the gym to her dad finding out about them. When she was finished, she felt drained and not one bit better.

  “I’m so sorry,” Megan said. “That sounds so unfair. I can’t believe that your dad would fire him. This isn’t a situation where a man
ager took advantage of a subordinate or gave out special favors.”

  “I know.” Jules sighed, feeling tired and bone weary from all the weight she’d been carrying around. “But he’s Dad. It’s his way or no way. I told him I’d quit before I let him fire Nick. I guess we’ll see what happens.” Since their heated discussion the day before, her dad had been avoiding her like she’d been avoiding Nick. She had no idea if he planned to follow through on his plan to cut Nick.

  “Jesus.” Megan’s voice sounded as stunned as Jules felt. How had everything gone bad so quickly? “I’m so sorry, honey. What can I do? Do you want me to come over?”

  “No.” Jules looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s late. I’m going to go to bed.”

  “Okay. Let’s have lunch tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you in the morning,” Jules promised.

  Megan was silent for a minute before she said, “For what it’s worth, I think Nick is crazy about you. I know this is a rough patch, but I can’t see him letting you go so easily.”

  Jules wasn’t so sure. He’d been angry and hurt. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his eyes, so hard and closed off. Not the eyes that had looked at her every night as he’d held her in his bed.

  When Jules didn’t answer, Megan asked, “What happens now?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess everything goes along normally until the tournament this weekend.”

  “Do you want me to come with you to the tournament? I can be there . . . just in case you need a friend.”

  “That’d be great.” She sagged against the pillows in relief, happy that she didn’t have to face this alone. She had a feeling she was going to need someone on her side. “Thanks, Megs, for everything.” If it all fell apart, at least she’d realized through all of this that she could open up to Megan. Her heart was hurting, but she still felt loved and she knew she wasn’t alone.

  “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

  Sweat dripped down Nick’s face and streaked across his chest as he faced down Sam Kovac, his opponent in the first fight of the tournament. The bright lights of the MGM Grand Garden Arena blazed down onto the caged octagon. The air was warm and seemed to pulse around him with the crowd’s energy. Blood dotted the canvas beneath Nick’s bare feet, sacrificed in one of the other fights earlier that day.