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ONE

DILLON

“Dillon, you’re up!”

I looked down at my bloodied hands and wrapped them tighter with the fabric that was once white. I’d busted through at least three knuckles on my left hand and one on my right. I couldn’t understand why they had wanted me to fight again. I’d already been in the ring today. I didn’t need any more practice.

“Leo, I’m good. I don’t want to bust my shoulder again before the fight tonight.”

Leo put his calloused hands on either of my bare shoulders. His thumb just brushed against my newest tattoo, a quote about fighting.

Push harder, longer

And to me, that’s exactly what getting torn up in the ring was about. “You need all the practice you can get, kid. The guy that you’re going up against tomorrow night, we don’t know much about him. All that I know is that he’s got some underground experience, and you know how those fuckers play. He’ll go right for your face. And by the time you realize what happened, you’ll be flat on your back and he’ll have won all our money.”

I shook my head. “You know I won’t let that happen. Besides those gangbanger fighters, they’ve got nothing on us real pros. I know what I’m doing and I rank better than anybody else you have in this gym. And when I say I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough.”

Leo pulled his hands off me and put them up in surrender. He might’ve been three times my age, but the old man did know what he was talking about. He had been a boxer first and then learned MMA. He had been my coach my entire life. But he also knew that I wasn’t just some little kid anymore. I was starting to get interest from sponsors and other investors. If I didn’t want to fight today because I knew it wouldn’t make me ready for tomorrow, then I wasn’t going to do it. After my shoulder injury two years ago I thought it was going to be completely done with fighting. But it was my passion, my life. I had done enough rehabilitation for five guys just to get myself back in the ring. And finally after another two years, I was in the prime of my fighting career. There was no way I was going to let some gangbanger fighter beat the hell out of me on my turf.

“Fine. But I want you hitting the bag for at least another hour. And then definitely take some time to do some stretching this evening. Your kick’s a little weak. Especially your left.”

I nodded and walked away. I made a stop at the locker room to grab my water and stretch out my shoulder in private. I didn’t like for other guys to see when I was in pain.

I put my hands on either side of the sink and looked into the mirror. My shaved head was new, but I liked the look it gave me. Menacing. I had the look of a guy that said, “You don’t even want to begin to fuck with me. I’ll kill you.”

I pulled my mouth guard out and spat blood into the sink from where one of the rookies had gotten an easy punch on me. I looked away at Leo for just a moment and the kid came at me. Like he had something to prove. I ended him—might’ve broken a couple of his ribs in the process. That way he’d learn that you don’t mess with Dillon Jackson.

I walked over to my locker and opened it up, pulled out a gallon of water, and started sucking it down. I pulled a towel out and wiped off my sweaty face. There wasn’t much in my locker besides those two things. I liked it that way. Clean. Everything had a place and was a necessity if it was in there. But when I reached to put my towel back, my hand brushed against something I forgot I had left here. I considered pulling it out, just to look at it. Just to make me feel little bit better, stronger, but I didn’t. I let my hand linger there just a moment too long then I pulled it back like I’d been bitten by a snake.

I was Dillon Jackson, an unbeatable fighter. But everyone has a weakness.

TWO

BERKLEY

I totally hated being up this early in the morning. But I didn’t have a choice; the first day of classes was already upon us and I had to get ready for school.

I picked out my outfit the night before, so I dressed pretty quickly, but calming down my unruly, naturally curly hair and getting my make up just right took time. I looked in the mirror as I was brushing my teeth, trying not to say some sort of mantra like today is the beginning of the rest of your life, or some other bullshit like that.

It wasn’t the beginning of the rest of my life. It was just another day, just like every day.

I look down at my phone buzzing because I pressed snooze one too many times. When I saw the picture that was set as my background I quickly shut it off and continued with my morning routine.

I felt like my phone could tell you my whole life story. A perfect background shot of my ex-boyfriend and me laughing together on the beach, when we were happy. Screenshot after screenshot of text messages from him.

I need you.

Berkley, you’re everything to me.

I know we’re soul mates.

But then the voicemail that ruined it all. “I think you’re just too serious for me. I really believe we’re meant to be together, but you just want more than I can give you. You deserve more than what I have.”

My phone was my lifeline to Jake.

We’d been together for four years, my entire college career. We met at freshman orientation, where he was a mentor sophomore and I was fresh out of high school. I had always felt like he was the more serious one, talking about our future and making plans. I had just wanted to have fun in college, go to parties with my friends, have random sex with guys whose names I didn’t know, but instead I had Jake. And for so long he had seemed so perfect. But then his texts were less frequent, our dates became more mundane, and our sex life had all but dried up. It was discouraging, to say the least. I wanted to love Jake forever, but the moment that I mentioned moving in with him after college, suddenly I was too serious for him. I guess I’ll never know if it was me or him, or if there were other girls on the side like all of my friends had always suggested. I should’ve listened to them earlier.

Tags: Nicole Elliot Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net