Right Hook (Gaslight series) COMPLETE

78| Fight night

"You're always cute," I tell her, kissing her again while ignoring Hayden's scoff. After pulling away, I give her a final goodbye, remind Hayden to look out for her, and then head back to the main gym to find my seat.

The place is buzzing with energy, every corner packed with eager spectators. Music pulsates through the space, the beat vibrating under my feet, almost like a second heartbeat. Overhead, speakers blare a mix of tracks, and I swear when I hear Tupac come on, it's like a sign he's watching over Alyssa.

I continue moving forward, surrounded by murmurs and bits of conversation. Amidst all of it, the ring stands out like a beacon of hope in the chaos. It's brightly lit, with a shiny new canvas and red and blue ropes that wrap around it like tinsel on a Christmas tree. My stomach flips, filled with a familiar urge to walk over and slip through the ropes, almost like muscle memory. Not today, O'Connor. That ring is not for you.

With a deep breath, I weave through the last of the crowd, almost at my seat, when I spot my former coach in the corner. Shit. I haven't returned any of his calls since he dropped me, and I'd rather not have to deal with that. I lower my head and hurry through bodies, tuning out the sound of him calling my name as I search for my seat.

"If it isn't the great O'Connor. Still avoiding me, I see."

Turning around, I see him staring at me, his thin lips set in a tight frown. Despite his unhappy expression, his watery gray eyes seem less severe. "Hey," I quickly say before he speaks, "I meant to get back to you, but–"

"But you were too chicken shit to talk to me after you got disqualified," he says, smiling and patting me on the back. "I get it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, son, and I see you are."

I arch an eyebrow, a little relieved he's not about to dress me down the way he's prone to do. "I am," I say, and for the first time in a long time, I actually mean it. "I'm thinking of becoming a coach, actually."

His eyebrows shoot up, not in shock but more in a 'that's exactly what you're meant for' way. "No kidding," he responds. "Well, remember, you've got my number if you need tips." He winks and pats my back before returning to his friends in the front row.

I take my seat, feeling some of my earlier anxiety fade away. Being here tonight, I thought I'd be hit with regret over what I've lost, but that's not the case. Leaving boxing feels like exactly what was meant to happen to get me here.

I'm still thinking about coaching and whether I'll be good at it when someone slides into the seat next to me. I look over to see Maddie, her dark hair braided just like Alyssa's, her eyes bright with determination.

"I just snuck out back to see Alyssa," she says, sounding like a proud mama bear. "Hard to believe that's the same girl who walked into the gym in that pink eighties yoga outfit."

"She's still that girl," I say with a grin, happy that she hasn't changed. It's a relief that, despite my initial reservations, she's still the same girl who sarcastically told me to roll out the red carpet, only she's now free from the influence of deadbeats like Justin and her dad.

"I didn't want to show it in front of her," Maddie says, settling back into her seat, "but I can't believe how nervous I am. It feels like my first time up there all over again."

"How'd you get through it?" Truth be told, I don't know much about Maddie or her journey with boxing, only that Hayden helped her train for the same fight she helped prepare Alyssa for.

"Hayden helped a lot," she admits with a wry smile, "but I think holding onto how badly I wanted it helped too. I didn't just want to win; I needed to."

I get it – it was always the same for me. A deep-rooted desire to achieve greatness and prove my father wrong drove me in every fight. I craved power and glory, and that hunger fueled my winning streak.

Alyssa is hungry, too; I occasionally see it in her eyes, a spark that fills me with pride. But her hunger is different from mine. While I wanted to prove myself to others, she understands that the only approval that matters is her own.

Still antsy, I turn to the ring, absorbing everything – the music, the crowd. It's odd to be on this side of the ring, watching as a spectator instead of fighting, but it's surprisingly more enjoyable. Leaning forward, hands on my knees, I take in every detail.

It isn't long before Alyssa's friend, Tiana, sits next to Maddie. I lean over to greet her, but it's clear she's uncomfortable, almost too scared to even shift in her seat. She fidgets with her jacket and bag repeatedly, then crosses her legs and pulls out her phone. Maddie attempts to engage in small talk, but it's like they're talking two different languages.

I'm starting to wonder if I should intervene when my phone vibrates. I pull it from my pocket to see a message from Kino, who's still moping around in bed. I've messaged Liss good luck already, and I expect a blow-by-blow account. Don't forget.

I roll my eyes and slip my phone back as the lights dim. A familiar former coach from my boxing days steps into the ring, reigniting the nerves I had managed to push aside. Worry grips me as he begins his spiel. What if she doesn't really want to do this? What if she gets hurt? Not just with a few bruises, but seriously injured, like so many other boxers I know?

I run a hand down my jaw, leaning back in my seat, fighting the urge to check on Alyssa. But it's too late for that now. The crowd erupts in cheers as Alyssa's opponent enters the ring. She's about the same height as Alyssa but looks more muscular, her arms notably larger. Her red hair is tightly braided, and her forehead shines with sweat. I sneak a quick glance at Maddie, but she barely reacts.

Suddenly, it's Alyssa moving through the ropes, and I find myself relaxing. I had half-expected to see the nerves from the locker room, but there's no sign of them. Her eyes are focused, her mouth pulled into the tiniest smile as she faces her opponent. Compared to her opponent, her frame is slim yet strong, and there's not a trace of fear on her face. Whatever the hell Hayden said, it worked.

Tonight's ref, a meatball-lookin' guy with a gruff voice, stands between them, ushering them to the center of the ring. I release the breath I wasn't aware I was holding, feeling that flicker or excitement return. I might not be the one in that ring, but watching her stand there looking so fucking determined, I might as well be.

Under the bright lights, Alyssa looks past the referee, searching for familiar faces in the crowd. With so many people, I doubt she'll see me. But she scans the front row, her eyes squinting. They move past Maddie and Tiana, her smile broadening before they finally land on me.

"I love you," she mouths.

"I love you," I mouth back.

The bell rings.

A/N

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