From the Backseat | ON INDEFINITE HOLD

xxxii | Holland

H O L L A N D

"I've never seen him fight like this before," Andrea says to me.

We're in the gym, not that that's a surprise to anyone here. It's been either here, my house, or the hospital for the last week and a half. My mother still remains asleep, forced into a medical coma by her doctor. It's hard for me to even step through her door.

It's a twisting in my stomach, like someone wringing out my intestines--tugging and digging their nails through the exterior--until they've punctured through it entirely and there's nothing but a blinding pain. That's what this feels like, the helplessness of seeing your mother, of being so close and being able to hold her hand, but not being able to help her.

She doesn't look like she's dying. There's color in her cheeks and a steady heartbeat. She looks as if she's just taking a nap. As if she would wake up any minute. Except her eyes won't open and no matter how much I talk to her, she doesn't respond. She doesn't open her eyes or give me a chance to apologize to her.

Andrea and I are sitting on the floor, our backs against the wall. Her phone is plugged into the outlet between us, her anchor to the ground.

There's only three days until the match. Three days until Miles and Rhys stand opposite each other and try their hardest to come out on top. Three days until there's a winner.

I couldn't be more nervous for him.

For the last week and a half, Rhys has thrown himself into working out and training with Jax. So much so, that they've started doing three work-outs every day for the last week. Jax is pushing him hard, monitoring what he eats and drinks. Jax even has Rhys carrying around a gallon of water with him everywhere he goes.

"What do you mean?"

She gives me a look, a simple roll of the eyes to tell me that I shouldn't be so stupid, so oblivious. She sets her phone down on the ground and angles her body towards mine.

"He's fighting for you," she says. "He wants to win for you."

"He wants to win for himself." I tell her, trying to hold down the blush that is threatening to rise on my cheeks. Just the way she said it has butterflies in my stomach and my eyes flickering over to where he stands in front of a punching bag.

It's the speed bag. It's a smaller black bag and higher up so it's closer to his face. His hands are flying in circles, the bag moving even faster. There's a concentrated look on his face as he keeps his eyes on the bag in front of him. Jax is standing beside him. He's saying something, but we can't hear what he's saying. Jax's eyes flicker from Rhys' form to the stopwatch in his hand and back.

"Maybe that's how this started, but now... Now, he wants to win this for you."

"And if he loses?"

Andrea's hand flies out to smack my upper arm before she rolls her eyes. There's a slight sting in my upper arm.

"Then you have to be there to pick up the pieces. He'll be upset, he'll shut you out, but you have to push through. He'll try to keep you away, but you have to stay with him," she says as if from experience.

I can't imagine him losing. He's been putting so much work into this. He's been training for months now, even before I met him. But so has Miles. Miles has been thinking about this moment for years. And maybe that need to win that's inside him, will work for him in the end.

I look at Rhys. His hair is plastered to his face and there's a scowl on his lips. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at nothing but the small bag in front of his face.