I get to the gym for seven, desperate to burn off some of the anger still lingering from my encounter with Danny. As soon as I walk in, Auden looks over from the leg press machine and nods. I nod back, then scan the gym for Coach. He's over by the boxing ring, giving Hayden some tips, so I grab a pair of gloves and make my way to a heavy bag.

Auden finds the bag beside me. He falls into his usual stance, arms out, ready, and hits. A glance over reveals he looks tired, his dark eyes shadowed with bruiselike circles as though he's not been getting much sleep. Coach thinks the thing that makes this place so great is that people mind their own damn business, but that's never been my strong suit.

"You look like shit," I say. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't look at me. In fact, he actively avoids me for a good few seconds as he gets another combo in. "I was up late last night," he says with a wink, "if you know what I mean."

"Ugh." I turn to my bag, intent on ignoring him, but something tells me this is one of those times when he's putting up a front.

He's quiet and then, "Look, don't make a big deal about it. I couldn't get the kids to settle. No biggie."

I lower my hands and turn back to face him, noting the easy look on his face, but it doesn't matter. Sometimes the pain in your heart is so intense that it shines through your eyes. "I can babysit," I say, "if you need me to."

"Forget it, Cassie." He turns to the bag and starts going to town, but I can't shake this feeling of hopelessness. He returns to hitting, but I can feel him beside me, radiating anger. It's coiled around him, controlling his hits until they're wild and lacking precision.

"Hey," I say between punches, "Frazier or Ali?"

He looks over, eyebrows raised. "Ali, hands down. Is that even a question?"

I shrug and land another hit. "I'm just saying maybe people don't give Frazier enough credit. Where's his mural?"

"Let me tell you something," Auden says, and he stops punching. His eyes brighten, as always, when he's given a chance to talk about boxing. "Frazier held the world heavyweight champion title once in 1970, and Ali held the title on three. Ali was named Fighter of the Year more than any other boxer in history. That's why he gets the mural." He turns to Ali with a grin on his face and kisses his glove. "All hail the king of boxing."

Things fall silent as we get back to our heavy bags, but the air feels lighter, and his hits are less chaotic as he focuses on rhythm instead of anger. I do the same, practicing the combos Nico showed me. At the same time, I remember Coach's advice about my footwork and work to keep my weight steady. It's hard at first to focus on combos while remembering what my feet are doing, but I refuse to give up.

When Coach finishes with Hayden, he sits on the bench near my heavy bag and uses a towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He looks different today, his eyes slightly sunken as he coughs into his hand. There must be something in the air. After sipping his water, he looks over. "You stay out of trouble today?"

"Yep," I say proudly. "I didn't get detention."

He smirks. "Must be a record."

"When do I get my medal?"

"I'm working on it." He gets to his feet, albeit with difficulty, and stands beside me. "Show me your footwork."

I do as I'm told and turn to my bag before returning to my stance. As I show off my footwork, I throw in the combo to work out the kinks. With Coach focusing on my footwork and Nico on my technique, I get to master both twice as fast. I shift my weight, twisting my body for the cross. Coach rests an arm on my shoulder to stop me, so I turn and face him.

"Stop with the combo bullshit and focus on jabs," he says. "This is about footwork."

"Why can't I work on both?"

"Because your footwork gets sloppy when you're distracted."

My fingers twitch with agitation. I turn to the bag and return to my stance, forgetting the combo as I focus on simple jabs. Coach spends thirty minutes with me this time, giving me pointers like balancing my weight or controlling my breathing. When I don't hit the bag the way he wants, he grabs some gloves from the equipment box and slips them on without taping his hands. After moving to a heavy bag, he demonstrates throwing a jab.

"Don't shift your weight; keep it at the center," he says. I observe him, determined to get this right, and practice on my bag. "The more you practice," Coach says, watching me, "the more your footwork becomes second nature. You won't have to think about your feet."

We go on like this for another ten minutes before I stop for a water break. Auden has moved away from the heavy bags and is back in the ring, sparring with Wiley. Even from here, it's easy to see he's exhausted.

"I wish there were something we could do to help him," I say.

Coach follows my gaze to the ring and stills. "I make house visits sometimes," he says. "Drop groceries over. He's doing as well as he can."

"Shouldn't we call social services or something? He shouldn't be playing mom and dad to his siblings."

Coach runs a hand along his jaw. "It's not that easy. For now, he's happy to be at home with his siblings. His parents stay out of the way, and he gets on with it."

"I'm worried about him."

"I know you are," Coach says. "You've got a big heart–" he looks over wryly, "–even if you try to hide it."

"It might be big, but it's Medusa-cold."

He scoffs. "If you say so." He turns to leave, then stops to look over his shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Cassie. I wish all my boxers had your determination."

My heart swells. I turn to my bag as Coach heads to the ring and carry on hitting. Sometimes that's all you need to keep going, a little encouragement, a dash of recognition. A sign that someone believes in you.

By the time the gym closes, it's dark. I leave the door unlocked for Nico and get to work, wiping down the equipment as I nod to my angry workout playlist. At one point, an old Eminem song comes on, Lose Yourself, and I can't help but rap along. There is something about cleaning to violent music that makes me surprisingly relaxed.

I turn and scream as Nico strides in, wearing a fitted black tee and gray sweatpants. My heart throbs – just for a second – long enough to call forth an army of butterflies to the pit of my stomach. I jump to my feet, hoping to disperse them, and pull out my Air pods. From the way Nico's mouth curls, he'd heard me.

"You should make a noise when you walk in," I snap.

"You're right," he says, walking over, "I'll yodel next time." He drops his gaze, and at first, I think he's looking at my cleavage, but he glances at the tape on my hands. I'd left it on so we wouldn't waste time having to re-wrap them. "Put your gloves on. We'll go over the cross combo."

"Actually, I was wondering if we could spar today." My voice is still shaky from being caught off guard –I need to burn some of the tension off. "I'm sick of the heavy bag."

He turns and looks at the ring. If this were Coach, he'd tell me to focus on mastering the heavy bag before worrying about sparring, but something tells me Nico doesn't follow the same rules. He looks back at me, eyebrow arched, and says, "You sure about this?"

"I'm sure – unless you're afraid I'm going to win." 

His eyes twinkle with a hint of a challenge. "Grab a helmet and meet me in the ring."

I smile and rummage through the equipment box for one of the helmets. The mouthguard goes next, and lastly, my gloves before I slip through the ropes and stand opposite. Coach has a rule that nobody steps in this ring without a helmet, but it's a rule Hayden forgets, and Nico ignores. He stands before me, not even a mouthguard, as he peels off his t-shirt.

My gaze drops a little, taking in the hard, taut valleys of his chest. It's the kind of body achieved through discipline, where each muscle has been worked and overworked to perfection – like art. He must catch me looking because he smirks, so I snap my focus back to my gloves, pretending to adjust the straps. I've been training here so long that I'm used to seeing half-naked guys at every turn, but seeing Nico with his shirt off makes my cheeks poker hot.

Not just hot.

On fire.

A/N

Comment a heart if you want the next chapter! ❤️