“Yes. I guess so. I’ll just have to stop by to pick up the things I left in my locker,” she said quietly, studying him. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing. I’m just keeping things real, that’s all.”

“Keeping things real,” she repeated.

“Yes. You needed a place to train and now you’re done.”

Her eyes widened. “What about you? You had your own reasons for letting me train there. You never wanted me in your gym.”

She was right about that. He hadn’t wanted her ten miles near his gym or his heart, but she’d somehow weaseled her way into both. Now she had to leave. And he wished she’d hurry the hell up about it. “You’re right. And now we both got what we needed, so that’s it. We’re done.”

“That’s it? We’re done? Really?” She stared at him with disappointment in her dark eyes.

“Parker, you have your career back on track, you live a life I could never even pretend I could be a part of, and I have my own shit going on. Let’s just call this what it was.”

“What was it?” she asked, crossing her arms across her body as if she knew his next words would be a blow she’d need to protect herself from.

“A good time that eventually had to come to an end,” he said as he left the room, hating himself. This was exactly why he always left before dawn. This was why he didn’t get involved. One-night stands couldn’t break him the way her pained expression just had.

*   *   *

Seeing the Sportsnet reporter van parked in the front of his gym, Tyson drove his motorcycle around the side of the building and went in through the back door. Several fighters trained in the cage, but the place was much quieter than normal. A feeling of apprehension had settled over the gym and for the first time in his life he didn’t want to be there.

Leaving Parker that morning had been awkward and tense. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking the night before going to her house, but he’d been desperate and confused and he’d just needed to see her, hold her, be with her . . . But it hadn’t been the smartest or kindest thing to do when it had only made her look at him with renewed hope.

Which he’d then destroyed.

“Hey, guys,” he said as he passed the cage.

“How’s Dane?” Billy asked, leaning over the side.

News of the fight and the incident were all over every sports station that morning, and he hoped the guys wouldn’t pay too much attention to it all. They needed to be there for Dane. He was going to need all the support he could get. “I really don’t know much yet, but I’ll let you guys know what I find out okay? Try not to worry for now.”

Billy nodded.

“Your dad is in the office,” Carlos said.

Of course he was. The day wasn’t shitty enough already.

Walking in, he felt like a twelve-year-old kid again. “Hi, Dad.”

“I guess you know why there’s reporters outside.”

Everyone knew by now. “I was Dane’s phone call last night. Walker and I went down to the station. He’s pretty messed up, but Walker says as long as his bloodwork comes back clean, he should be . . .”

His father slammed the desk in front of him. Silencing him.

He clamped his lips together.

“I don’t care about Dane. I care about this gym, your career, your upcoming title match—the one you seem to have forgotten about.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“You also haven’t called the gymnastics trainer I told you to contact over a month ago.”

He hadn’t even remembered it until that very second. “I know. I’ve been distracted.” Understatement.

“Well, get undistracted!”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. What did I say about letting Connor back here? I said it would be a disaster and it was. I told you letting that actress play around in here was a mistake, and I don’t even need to ask where you were last night. So tell me something, Tyson—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m focused on my fight now.” He had less than a week to get it together. After all of the hard work he’d put into his career, he refused to just let it all slip away in this landslide of destruction. “And this thing with Dane . . .”

“This thing with Dane is ending now. We are going to let that annoying reporter in and we’re going to release a simple statement: Dane Hardy is no longer affiliated with our gym. We offer our deepest condolences to the Consuelos family for their loss. The end. No more. Got it?”

His mouth dropped. His father couldn’t be serious. He expected Tyson to turn his back on his fighter when he needed him most? His friend? “Dad, Dane’s kick was a legal head shot . . .”

“Save it. We are done doing things your way. Dane is out.” He stood and opened the office door.

“No, he’s isn’t,” he said firmly.

His father stopped.

“I’m not turning my back on him.”

“You’re willing to ruin this gym’s reputation for some fighter who should have known better?” he asked angrily.

“It will look even worse if we walk away from him.”

His father stared at the display case on the wall. “Everything I’ve ever done was for this family, for you. And right now, I need you to be the son I raised and do what I’m asking you to do.”

“You raised me not to quit and I don’t. I’m not quitting on Dane either.”

Without a word, his father turned and stormed out of the gym, holding the door open for the reporter, who rushed in, followed by her cameraman.

Great. It had taken a whole team of people to bury him in this mess, and now he was on his own clawing back out.

Chapter 12

He remembered one of his father’s trainers saying years ago that the worst shots are the ones you aren’t expecting. You have no time to prepare for their blow and the impact they deliver. The worst emotions are the same. They come out of nowhere knocking you to your knees . . . and you go down.

Opening the door to his apartment hours later, he finally understood what the guy had meant. A pair of his running shoes sat blocking the entrance and he almost tripped over them. Picking them up, his sighed. The laces were gone.

And so was Connor.

A discarded needle lay on the floor next to the couch and he threw his shoes across the room. He ran a hand over his head, standing there, without a clue what to do next. He’d put off confronting Connor the night before and that morning because he’d considered Parker’s words—that this was Dane’s fault for taking the fight. She was right. Dane would have found this opportunity to screw up his life even without Connor’s help, but his brother still had to learn to stay out of people’s business.

Looked like that wouldn’t be an issue anymore.

Grabbing a plastic bag, he picked up the needle from the floor, wrapped it, and tossed it into the trash. That was it. His brother was gone. He had no intention of getting his life back on track. He should have known better than to think otherwise. Maybe giving people the benefit of a doubt, being hopeful for a better outcome, trusting they would do the right thing was all bullshit.

Certainly seemed that way.

He went into his bedroom and his heart sank ever further as he noticed the closet door ajar. He hadn’t left it that way. He didn’t even need to open it to know the belt was gone. The day reached a record low and the desperation he felt was overwhelming. He had a fight in two days and he’d be walking into the cage without the belt, without his usual confidence and without hope.

Going into the bathroom, he turned the shower to hot and climbed in, rotating his aching shoulder, which wouldn’t ease up with the weight of the world resting on it. As the water poured down his back moments later, he rested his head against his arm. What the hell had he let happen to his life in a few weeks?