He thought he could reel me in with fake titles and bullshit about fighting in the states? He’d need a damn sight more than that if he wanted to entice me.
“I don’t need a title from anyone.”
I started to punch the bag again, effectively dismissing him, but he wasn’t giving up.
“Brandon Mathers. U.K. bare-knuckle champion, does have a certain ring to it, doesn’t it? And I’m sure you don’t want to be living with your nan for the rest of your life. Just think what that kind of money could do for you. For your future. The more fights you get under your belt, the bigger the pay cheque.”
He did have a point. I couldn’t live with my nan or sofa surf for much longer. And the thought of buying my own place was a dream I wanted to make a reality.
“So, I’d still be able to pick my own fights?” I asked, grabbing the punch bag as it swung towards me.
“As long as it didn’t jeopardise your fitness or clash with any of my bookings. Just think about it, okay. You have my number.”
I had to admit money had been tight lately, and a bit of extra cash would’ve helped. Maybe a few fights for Pat wouldn’t be so hard. I hadn’t met a guy yet who could beat me. Perhaps now was the perfect time to start branching out? Try tougher opponents. We’d had to throw the net wider to find the last fighter, and even though I’d had that lapse in concentration, Callum Kendall was no match for me. It was like taking candy from a baby, and I didn’t want my fights to grow stale.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I said before I could change my mind.
“Good lad.” Pat slapped me hard on my back. “I’ll be in touch. We’ll need to think about diets, fitness, and your daily training regime. That sort of stuff.”
“I train just fine. I don’t need any help.” I frowned, not liking how this was going already. I didn’t take orders well, not from anyone.
“
For what I have planned, we’ll need to turn you into a fucking machine. Don’t worry, son. I have it all planned out. Once we’re finished, the world of boxing won’t know what’s hit it.”
Had I just made the worst fucking decision of my life? I had no idea. My brain was fried. I could barely think straight. And after using up my energy at the gym, I needed to find some clarity. That’s why I was standing in the Hardy’s living room, pacing up and down as I recalled everything that had happened in the last twelve hours at the Lockwood’s house and then with Pat Murphy.
“We were worried about you last night, mate,” Ryan said, interrupting my incoherent rambling. “Are you okay? You know, after everything with Pam?” He stared at me like he expected me to flip out at any second.
“My egg donor is an attention-grabbing whore. It’s the story of my life. I should be used to it by now, but it still gets to me.”
Ryan understood, and he knew me well enough to know when to drop the subject. I hadn’t come here to talk about Pam fucking Mathers, the woman who didn’t deserve the title of mother.
“I didn’t expect Harper to be the one to chase you down. I’ve got to admit, it shocked me.” He smirked.
“You and me both.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning, even though my insides were tangled up in knots. Things were finally starting to look up for me… At least I thought they were. If I could get my head around everything.
“Not sure what she’ll think about you fighting for Murphy though. Wasn’t he training Brodie before he died?”
I’d heard those rumours too, but I didn’t want to dwell on whatever had gone on between Pat and Yates. That was his business, not mine. All I knew was, Pat wanted the best. He’d badgered me for months to join him. Now, he’d got me. The rest wasn’t up for discussion. Well, not Brodie’s involvement, anyway.
“I’m not sure I’m gonna tell her.” I shrugged, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t a big deal.
Ryan sighed and leaned forward in his chair.
“I don’t think you’re gonna be able to keep something like this quiet, mate. You know what this town’s like; gossip spreads like wildfire. Look, I know I said to stay away from her, but even I can see there might be something there between you two. If you want to make a go of it, you need to be honest.”
I didn’t think I was being dishonest. I didn’t need to answer to anyone. I’d always been my own man. I made my own decisions.
“It’s just boxing. It’s what I do.”
“But it’s not just boxing to her. It’s what destroyed her life. She won’t take it well if she hears it from someone else. Don’t you think she should have a choice on whether she gets thrown back into that world again?”
If she chose to be with me, and I really fucking hoped she did, then surely she’d already made that choice? I frowned, trying to get my head around the way Ryan was thinking, but I was struggling.
“I am that world,” I stated plainly.
Everyone in Sandland knew what I was. And if I was honest, when I came to discuss Pat’s offer, it was because I wanted Ry to tell me it’d be the best thing to ever happen to me. That I was going places. I didn’t expect him to throw more spanners into the works. He really wasn’t helping.