Path To Restoration (Fighter's Den, #3)

Chapter 18 - Nate

A loud gasp gets caught in my throat as I try to pull in air, willing myself to breathe. The fist that's firmly planted in my gut isn't exactly allowing me to do that. The pain is so intense, so blinding, that for a moment I black out. For a moment, darkness washes over my vision and I stumble before falling to the hard floor of the ring on my hands and knees. I cough out against the strain that's blocking my airway and finally, finally, am able to take a deep breath that expands my lungs. Except even pulling in oxygen at this point is so painful that my breathing sounds more like wheezing.

In case you didn't pick up on it, I'm getting my ass kicked. Bad.

I should've gotten my shit together four rounds ago but instead, my technique is getting sloppier and my focus is diminishing. I've never fought so bad in my life and I can't seem to snap out of it. But if I'm being honest with myself I was distracted before I even got in the ring.

I've been distracted for a whole month.

Ever since that day in Coach's office when he made Jaxon head of the youth division and took ten years off my life with the news that Delilah got in a car accident, I've been nothing but a fucking wreck. It felt like the whole ordeal was moving in slow motion—the ride to the hospital, seeing Del bruised and battered and hooked up to all sorts of machines, waiting those antagonizing three days when she was unconscious, the doctor warning us the baby had a ninety-nine percent chance of being premature, and the absolute toll the trauma of it all took on Del. It changed her in so many ways, it's become hard to recognize her.

I never thought I'd be glad about the fact that we didn't get into a relationship.

Just thinking about what it could have done to us sinks my stomach. What if we'd been dating after the endless amount of times Del told me she wanted to focus on Zack only for all of this to happen when she was too preoccupied with me? It would make sense that she might've blamed me or at the very least associated me with the fact that everything is going wrong because her attention was elsewhere and not where it should have been. Then she would never want anything to do with me or even consider giving me a chance. Then again, I'm not exactly on her list of priorities lately but part of me is glad because I'm not sure I want anything to happen between us right now. Getting into a relationship with someone broken doesn't fix them and Del has never been more broken in her life. I want to be there for her but...I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with the fact that she's changed so much. I could have fought harder but truthfully I let her push me away. I'm a fucking pussy.

"Watch out!" I hear right before pain bursts out on my temple and travels all the way down my spine. I land on my stomach, my hands and knees giving out beneath me, and my head bounces against the floorboard as I feel my mind swaying. Fuuuuuck. I know what's happening before it actually does. I know what's happening when darkness surrounds me until I'm drowning in it and everything fades away.

I've just been knocked out.

***

"How you feeling, brother?"

It takes a second to process the question that just came out of Asher's mouth as he eyes me warily, concern evident in the tightness of his features.

Why is he asking me that? Did something happen to me? I wrack through my brain for answers.

And fall back on the couch with a groan when I remember.

My second pro match against William Hodge, some preppy British dude. He's definitely a good fighter but I know my skills and capabilities and I know that it should have been me that won that match—easily.

"Fuck!" I punch one of the cushions angrily and run a hand through my still-damp hair. That means I haven't been unconscious for too long. I reluctantly ask, "How long was I out?"