Chapter 13 - Lucas

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"See anyone you like?" Zack asks.

I take another look around the bar, my eyes scoping out today's crowd. I think I'm off my game or some shit because I genuinely don't see anyone I want to fuck.

"No," I take a sip of my beer and set it on the table again.

Zack leans back against his side of the booth. "What the hell is up with you? You've been weird lately."

"No, I haven't."

"Yeah, you have. All month."

I choose not to answer that but he's right. This really hasn't been my month. It's fucked me over from all angles and positions.

It started early October when Mom's health took one fuck of a hit. She'd been in so much pain that she had to be admitted to the hospital and she was there an entire week, hopped up on medications. She was so out of it she was barely able to talk to anyone. Mostly she just slept. Dad let me ditch school for that weak and I was grateful because I would have raised hell otherwise. I didn't say a word to him the whole time I was home but I considered it progress. At least we weren't fucking screaming at each other for once. Even silence is better than that.

But it was an exhausting week and as much as I hate to admit, by the end of it I wanted out. I wanted to go back to campus because there was so much grief and sadness it felt like I was drowning. Landon looked miserable the day I headed back to Boston U. He had some relief when I was there to watch over the house and do the chores and shit. He caught up on his sleep and his school work. I felt bad as fuck for him but grateful for myself when it was time to return to campus.

I thought I'd get some relief being back here but as soon as I stepped into my dorm I wanted to go home again. Being at school felt wrong all over again and it only frustrated me because I didn't know what I wanted anymore. I'm miserable when I'm home, I'm guilty when I'm here. I just can't fucking win. There's no answer and nothing is more frustrating than not having an answer. I can't fix what I'm feeling. I can't fix Mom's health. I can't fix my family. I have no control in my life anymore. Maybe that's why I haven't fucked anyone all month. It's the one thing in my life that's actually in my control and if I have sex then I'll lose that too. How goddamn pathetic is my life?

This month has been a fucking blur at best. I'm failing all my classes. Today with Zack is the most I've spoken to him all month. I haven't spoken to Olivia at all. She sees me around but I think even she knows I'm not up for fights. We have an unspoken agreement to push pause on our game. There's nothing fun about it right now. I feel nothing. I'm just so fucking numb and tired, all the fucking time.

"Shit is going to be okay," Zack finally offers when I don't say anything.

I stare into my glass, watching my reflection in the alcohol. "You don't know that. Don't give me fake answers just because we can't find real ones. It doesn't fucking help."

"Look, I don't know what else to say."

"Nothing," I drag a hand down my face. "You say nothing because that's the answer. Nothing can be done. Nothing can be fixed. Nothing is going to help. Fucking nothing."

I kick the bottom of my seat in frustration but it doesn't do anything for me. The urge to break something is overwhelming. As if Zack senses that he reaches across the table to grab my glass and drags it away, out of my reach.

"We should hit up one of our dads' gyms," He offers.

After Fighter's Den got famous for producing talented boxers, my father and uncles took it upon themselves to market it. Each of them opened up their own Fighter's Den location with the money they made from fighting and they each coach their own gyms. It's how our families still make millions. The five FD locations groom aspiring boxers, promote and sponsor famous fighters, sell merch, all kinds of shit. At this point there's almost no such thing as being a boxer that doesn't come from Fighter's Den. We own the boxing industry.

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