Path To Redemption (Fighter's Den, #1)

Chapter 17 - Jaxon

I think I might throw up.

I feel more nervous right now than I did during my first match.

And I know exactly why.

Judging by the barely restrained anger that Coach is aiming at me, so does he.

I'm not fucking ready.

My training sessions have been shit. My head hasn't been in the game. My focus is practically non-existent and I'm literally fighting like I did during my first lesson. And it's my own damn fault. I did this to myself.

I've been so lost in all things Emily, completely consumed by my intense need for her, that I haven't been dedicating any of my energy or time to boxing. Day in and day out all I want is her. I risked missing crucial time that should've been spent during training and instead spent all my time inside of her. I'm not regretting what we did but I am regretting losing focus on my main goal. My main goal is not Emily. It can't be. My main goal has to be boxing, has to be Sam, has to be Lizzie, has to be reconstructing my life. I can't obliterate it by willingly letting in the one person that could ruin me. I can't because I would let her ruin me just so that I can at least have her, even if it's temporary. That's how deep I am with her. So much so, I've completely taken my eyes off the prize. And now I'm paying for it.

The size of the crowd is insane. Almost quadruple what it was last time, rounding near 2000 spectators. Word about the new talent spread fast and the greedy audience wants to know if the talent will go on or fail miserably. At the rate this is going, it will very much be the latter.

The familiar hum of the crowd's cheering that had caused adrenaline to pump in my veins the first time around is now churning acid in my stomach and I'm seconds away from losing my earlier meal. I'm not ready. Not even close. Coach couldn't even delay the fight because there's a lot more money riding on this fight than there was with Sanders'. The fact that I'm going to be throwing that all away, money that I could've put towards my little girl, is making me equally heartbroken and angry. How the fuck did I let things get this off course?

Things with Emily had to end. Now.

And the most fucked up part was that the thought of letting her go was even more gut-twisting than the looming loss I was surely about to face.

I'm noticeably losing my cool, if Claude Beckett's calculating gaze is anything to go by. Nate was right; this guy is composed as fuck. I can't tell if he's relaxed or nervous or ready or not. His face gives away nothing, completely impassive and unreadable. That's unnerving as hell because Nate was also right when he said that's a major advantage in this industry. At least with Sanders, I knew what I was up against based on his vibes and what I could make of his personality. Beckett, though? I have no read on the kind of guy he's like so I can't guess how he's going to fight this match. I'm fucking screwed.

I swallow harshly and turn away from his observant watch on me, growing more anxious as the seconds tick down. I want nothing more than to rewind the past week and re-do it so that I can actually make smart choices regarding my priorities. But life doesn't work that way and I can't shake the fact that I wouldn't have shared those intimate moments with Emily if I could take back this week. That bothers me way more than it should. I close my eyes on an irritated sigh and take deep breaths. I can't go down with a fight. I can go down, sure, but not without giving back whatever I receive. Life has knocked me down too many fucking times and I'm not about to throw my temporal regain on some measly obstacle. I have no other choice but to fight. For Sam, for Lizzie, and fuck, for myself. Is it so selfish that just for once I want to be in control of what I do in my life? I've never had a say in anything before other than boxing. I won't let life take this from me too.