“Who’s that?”
Trevor laughed. Kids today were in such a hurry that they didn’t go back far enough to really appreciate the history of the sport.
Domenic looked at him perplexed. “Who do you mean, man?”
An image of the iconic boxer flashed in Trevor’s mind. God, what was his name? Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Wasn’t that what he always said? The man had been not only a boxer and a superior athlete, but an entertainer. Funny as hell. Not to mention one class act.
“Um, you know . . .” Trevor scratched his head.
Domenic cocked his head to the side.
Shit. He couldn’t remember. It was as if his memory had a hole in it. The man was only the most iconic boxer of all time. He’d watched the tapes of his old fights since he was a kid. He lifted his ungloved hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Ah, what’s his name?” Trevor’s muscles tensed. Aggravation slowly moved through his body. Oh. Who was that guy? Did his name start with an M?
Domenic piped up. “You’re talking about Muhammad Ali?”
“Yes!” Relief poured through him.
“Of course I’ve watched all the Ali tapes. Who hasn’t?” Domenic took a step closer to Trevor and looked directly into his eyes. “Dude, are you all right?”
As if on cue, Trevor’s visual field blurred. He blinked trying to clear the cloudiness, but the fuzziness wouldn’t disappear. A flash of heat surged though his body, and his large frame swayed.
“Trevor?” Domenic’s voice filled with concern.
His sparring partner’s face faded in and out of clarity. Trevor grabbed on to the ropes, holding himself up. Waves of nausea swirled through his stomach. The protein shake he drank for breakfast threatened to rise up his throat. His knees buckled.
“Dude, I’m calling Daniella,” Domenic announced. Hints of panic marred his voice.
Using the ropes, Trevor pulled himself to a standing position. “No. Don’t.” He waited for the nausea to pass before he said, “I’m fine.”
His sparring partner’s eyes widened. “You don’t look fine.”
“It’s just . . .” What could he blame it on now? Lack of sleep. No breakfast. Burning the candle at both ends. He’d used all of those excuses already, and Domenic was no dummy. Sooner or later he was going to figure out that Trevor had something going on, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d inadvertently rat him out to Daniella.
He allowed his shoulders to slump. “I’m not as well as I’d hoped to be by now. It’s my head. It comes and goes but it’s nothing serious.”
Domenic scowled. “It looks serious, man. You sort of turned green there for a minute. I thought you were going to puke.” He placed a gloved hand on Trevor’s shoulder.
Trevor pressed a gloved hand to his stomach. “I’m fine. Let’s just spar.”
He shook his head. “No way, I’m not hitting you when you’re like this.”
“It’s okay,” Trevor tried to coerce him. “Once we start training the nausea will subside.”
Domenic shook his head. “Nope. Not doing it. You’re the best sparring partner I’ve ever had, plus you’ve got a fight to get ready for. I will not take a swing at you.”
Trevor let out a huff. “Which is exactly why we should stop talking and start sparring.”
Domenic peeled off a glove. “What would Daniella say if I hit you and made things worse?”
“You won’t.” He allowed his shoulders to relax.
Trevor’s mouth flattened in a firm, straight line. He knew the kid wasn’t budging. He must’ve carried too much respect for Trevor and too much fear of Daniella to go against what he felt in his gut. Admirable qualities, but not exactly what Trevor was hoping for. He decided to pitch a new idea.
“Well, if you won’t spar with me, let’s go for a run.” Trevor glanced over his shoulder. “Shakes is going to wonder why we’re standing around.”
His offer seemed to change the kid’s mind. “Maybe some fresh air would do you good,” Domenic said.
Both men pulled off their gloves and proceeded to the door. As they exited the gym, Shakes caught up with them.
“Where are you two off to?” The old man glanced at his watch.
“Running. We decided to start things off with regular cardio and shake up the routine.” Trevor said. “It’s a nice day, and we wanted to get our running in before the weather turned too hot.”
Not bad for an excuse on the fly.
“Yeah, I heard it might even rain,” Domenic chimed in. He even managed to make his words sound authentic.
With a wave of his hand, Shakes let them go. Once outside, the warm Nevada air struck Trevor in the face, and his nausea resurfaced. Instead of running, he walked down the street. At least this way, if he vomited, no one at Stamina would know besides Domenic.
He focused on his breathing, trying his hardest to even his breaths when an acidic knot barreled up his throat. Oh god. Like it or not, his stomach started to cramp. Trevor grabbed on to the nearest tree and vomited.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Domenic said from somewhere behind him.
He threw up again, and the shit was fucking disgusting. Not to mention embarrassing as hell. Once he stopped dry heaving, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry about that.”
“Dude.” Domenic’s hand clapped down on Trevor’s shoulder. “You should really see a doctor.”
“I saw one. There’s nothing she can do.” He wasn’t about to go into the details of his conversation with Chelsea. There was no way he was going to tell Domenic that she’d urged him to quit.
“Maybe we should tell Daniella that you’re not feeling it today. You should go home and get some rest,” Domenic said
“I appreciate your concern.” Trevor started walking with Domenic in tow, escaping the foul odor lingering in the air. Walking back toward Stamina his stomach calmed down. Puking wasn’t pretty, but maybe vomiting was what his body needed. “It’s nothing. Breakfast didn’t sit right. That’s all.”
“I still think we should . . .”
Trevor raised his hand, stopping his sparring partner mid-sentence. “I thought you were here to help me. I mean, isn’t that what a good sparring partner does?”
Domenic averted his eyes to the ground. “I am trying to help you.”
Trevor gave a shake of his head. “No, you’re not. If you really wanted to help me, I mean really wanted to see me succeed, you won’t bring this up again. I got sick. It’s over. That’s it. Now, if you really want to be one of us at Stamina you learn that loyalty lies with sticking by your brothers, no matter what. You got that?”
He nodded.
“Good.” Trevor’s pace sped up as he headed back toward the gym. “And I’m trusting you to keep your mouth shut about what happened, right?”
Domenic bowed his head low like a child being scolded. “Yeah,” he said in a sheepish tone, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Chapter Eleven
Two days passed and Trevor kept the nausea at bay. He hadn’t vomited since the episode by the tree, and since he’d been able to keep his shit under control, Domenic’s concern for him had also cooled. His life was slowly getting back to his new normal. If he trained too hard, skipped a meal, or didn’t get a full eight hours of sleep, more issues arose during the day, like headaches, blurred vision, nausea, or finding himself off balance when he walked.
It was hard not to get cynical, because even on the days he felt better, other things started to bother him, like reading the tiny print on his cell phone screen, or the flashing colors and movement from video games. Needless to say, he hadn’t played much Call of Duty lately and his online teammates blamed his absence on his fight training, which was fine with him.
He’d just completed his morning run and was headed into Stamina when his tra
iner met him at the doorway.
“Just in time.” Daniella greeted him with a smile. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you ran into the locker room.”
Trevor slowed into a jog. “Sure, what’s up?”
Daniella rubbed her hand over her pregnant belly protectively. “Just some pre-fight paperwork and an exam.”
He felt his facial muscles tense. “Exam?” He laughed. “Like a test?”
She returned his laughter. “No. Your physical exam. It’s routine, nothing to worry about. You just have to be cleared to fight.”
His insides stirred. Nothing about him was routine. Even though he felt good today, the best he had all week, he hoped whoever poked and prodded him wouldn’t see what he worked so hard to hide.
“No problem.” He tried to play the news of an exam off with easy confidence.
“Great. I’ve cleared the locker room so that your examination can take place there. Just go on in, and the doctor is waiting for you.” Daniella smiled.
He nodded at Daniella’s instruction. What was the most he’d have to do? Pee in a cup? Maybe the doctor would listen to his breathing, sign a form, and call it good. What could a doctor really tell from a locker room exam?
He breezed inside the room until she stopped him in his tracks. “What are you doing here?”
God, he hadn’t seen Dr. Fox since the day he marched out of her office, and he’d been fairly certain he’d never see her again. But there she was. Standing in his locker room, dressed in tight black pants and a button-down shirt he wanted so desperately to undo.
With his teeth.
By the scowl on her face, he knew, she wasn’t as happy to see him as he was her.
“You are unbelievable,” she said through gritted teeth.
He flashed a boyish smile, trying to rebuff just how badly busted he was. “Glad to see you finally came around. Had second thoughts about that date?”
Her expression flattened. “You’re not funny. When Daniella called and asked me to come over to perform a pre-fight exam for one of her boxers, I readily agreed. I had no idea who it was until I got here. And when I found out it was you, well, you can imagine I had to see for myself how blatantly you disregarded my orders.”
“Oooh, orders.” His voice smoothed like silk. “You can order me around all you want, sweetheart.”
Her face reddened. Narrowing her blue eyes, she let out a tiny huff.
He could tell she was ready to explode.
“Don’t you care about yourself at all?” Her nostrils flared.
He shrugged.
“I simply can’t believe this.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Pigheaded. Why are men so pigheaded!”
He dropped down on a bench in front of his locker. “Maybe we’re not.”
“Pffft,” she said. “Name one who isn’t.”
“Maybe all I want is to realize my dream and whatever happens, happens.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the dumbest and most irresponsible thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it?” He turned his body toward her.
For a moment, he thought she was going to outstretch her hands and wrap them around his neck to strangle him. Instead, they landed on his shoulders as she faced him and said, “Do you have any idea what you could be facing down the road? Athletes who have suffered severe blows to the head can succumb to conditions like depression and memory loss, and depletion of muscular function, deafness, and tremors. And usually those athletes are seeing these things happen in their bodies eight to ten years after they retire. You are seeing them now.”
“So what are you saying?”
Her blue eyes met his. “I’m saying that it’s not worth it. I’m saying you’re a young, funny, ridiculously handsome man and you don’t need to suffer like this.”
He took a moment and considered her words. “What if someone told you that you couldn’t be a doctor anymore?”
“I know this is hard for you.” Her voice softened.
He pursed his lips. “No. You don’t. Because you can’t fathom not being what you are. You can’t imagine what it feels like to have someone hold you back from what you love.” He raised his hand to keep her from saying another word. “If I quit and walk out now, what have I got? A job at a strip club? Maybe I can become the janitor at Stamina, if I’m lucky.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Deep lines formed on her forehead, right between her eyebrows.
“I’m serious.”
She held his gaze. “So am I.” Pulling back from him, she stood up and paced the locker room. “We have to postpone the fight. There’s no way I’m signing off on something that could kill you.”
He bowed his head. Then in the same instance, he perked up. She said postpone, not cancel. Maybe she thought this was only a brief delay.
His stomach tensed. He felt a wave of disappointment surge through his body. Sitting there in the moment, he knew the news was going to come out sooner or later. If Domenic hadn’t ratted him out to Daniella, Shakes would have put two and two together and figured out why he kept switching up his daily routine. There wasn’t any consistency in his fight plan because he had to keep mixing it up to offset whatever problem he was having that day. No running if he woke up with nausea. No weightlifting if he felt dizzy. Shakes had already complained once or twice that his workouts weren’t balanced and that it would affect him in the ring.
And the last thing he wanted was to take on Dion Nash and lose.
“What do you want me to do?” An uneasy feeling ran through his gut. In the battle of wills with Chelsea he wasn’t going to come out victorious. He had to give up, stop fighting her, and resign himself to getting better. It would be the only way she’d allow him to fight.
“Agree to a postponement. That’s step one,” she said.
His mouth flattened to a straight line, and he paused. This wasn’t going to go over well with Daniella. He’d already signed the contract. The fight was on. Promotion and ticket sales were in the works. Sponsors were secured. His posture slumped. “For how long?”
“We’ll start with a month. Maybe two.”
Heat penetrated his body, his temper rose to a boiling point. “A month? No fucking way.”
She propped a hand on her hip. “Then I’m done here. I’m not clearing you to fight, and I’m letting Daniella know that no other doctor will clear you, either. You need rest and routine monitoring.”
Her words hit him way below the belt. She was playing hardball, and he didn’t have much choice except to play along. He let out a heavy sigh.
“Okay,” he said, defeat marking his tone. “You win. We can postpone the fight, and I’ll do whatever you want on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Her tone sounded challenging.
The corner of his mouth pulled up in a sly grin. “I want you to monitor me personally.”
Chapter Twelve
Heat flooded her face. She knew she shouldn’t crack a smile. Now wasn’t the time for smiling and letting him know that she’d condone even an inch of what he’d done. He put his health at risk. One hit too hard and he’d land himself on an operating table or worse. Yet, the corner of her mouth hiked up. Any resentment she had toward him melted. He affected her like that.
“I couldn’t possibly monitor you personally. I have hundreds of patients who require my attention.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I require a lot of your attention,” he said flatly.
She huffed. “No. You don’t require my attention, you demand it. There’s a difference.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Is that a bad thing? Shoot down my offer, that’s fine, but if my prognosis doesn’t improve, who do you think Daniella is going to blame, you or me?”
A fire lit inside her. Oh. He pulled the friend card, did he? It was amazing to know he’d go that
far and throw her under the bus to Daniella to get what he wanted. “Persistent, aren’t you?”
He flashed those bedroom eyes at her. The ones she remembered from the kiss at the hospital. Those eyes penetrated. Called to her. Those soft brown beauties showed up in her dreams. It was as if that magnetic connection reached into her soul and drew her to him.
“I’m very persistent when I know what I want.” He stood up from the bench and took one step toward her. Then another. He stood so close that she smelled the musky scent radiating off his skin. The primal odor sent a wave of need pouring through her. A need she had to resist.
“I just don’t . . .”
He took another step toward her, so close they were almost touching. The heat pulled at her core. He placed his hands on her arms and caressed her; any tighter and it would have been a hug. The promise of personal contact eroded any objection she had. “I want you to help me get back in the ring. No one else. Just you.”
“It’s going to take a lot of work.”
His hand moved up and down her arm. “I’m not afraid.”
“It’s going to take a lot of your cooperation.” She gazed into his eyes. He wasn’t the most agreeable. He had yet to listen to anything she’d said. In fact, he’d downright blown off all of her instructions.
“I’ll do whatever you say.”
“You have to understand; I have a lot of patients who need me. They demand my time, too. So, if I give you something to work on I expect it will get done. I can’t fret over you like a worried mother.”
He shot her a stern glance. “I don’t need a mother. I need a doctor. A beautiful, sexy, brainy, doctor.”
She bit her lip. She knew being around him was going to take a lot of restraint, like the kind she was calling on now, the stuff that came from way down deep and kept her emotions in check. She bit her lip harder, but she didn’t feel the pain. The slight twinge was a reminder that there’d be more repercussions than teeth marks on her lip if she acted on her feelings.
The Hardest Hit Page 6