Path To Restoration (Fighter's Den, #3)

Chapter 18 - Nate

"Ten minutes." Asher pats my leg in what has to be sympathy before getting to his feet. "Let me go grab the doc to check you out."

He leaves the break room and my ears briefly catch the announcers recapping the match highlights during the few seconds the door is open. I'm grateful when it closes behind him, knowing what they're saying about me can't be good. All I heard was "too busy stripping" and tuned the fuckers out. What the hell would they know about my life? Asswipes.

The door opens again and I wince when Coach steps inside. To say he looks grim is an understatement. I know I'm about to get a verbal ass-kicking as much as I know that I deserve it. The way I fought today was, simply put, inexcusable. I sit up and swing my legs off the couch to make room for him to sit. He sits on the other end, slinging an arm over the back of the couch and eyeing me for a few silent beats. I'm growing more and more nervous the longer he stays quiet.

"I fucked up." I blurt because I can't take this damn staring contest. I'd rather get this lecture over with than having him drag it out. "I can tell you everything I should have done differently if you asked. I know I fucked up."

Still nothing. I shift uneasily.

"Say something, Coach." I'm not above begging.

He takes in an audible breath before blowing it out and his razor sharp gaze looks straight through me. "Be honest with me, Hunter."

I nod. I'll tell him whatever the hell he wants me to tell him. I fucking hate disappointing Coach.

"Is this a good time in your life to go pro? I know there's a lot going on with you, kid. So tell me honestly when I'm asking if we should do this or if we should take a step back."

God fucking damn. My stomach twists. He really is losing faith in me. Even my training has been child's play this whole month and I don't blame him for not wanting to waste his time. He could easily coach Asher or Wolfe in the meantime but he's still sticking with me and now...he doesn't want to.

I swallow harshly against the panic clawing up my throat. "I want to do this, Coach."

"I didn't ask you what you want—I'm asking what you can do."

I run a frustrated hand through my hair but stop when the sweat slides against my fingers, reminding me of the knockout that shouldn't have happened. I snatch my hand away like I've been burned.

"I can do this." I insist. "I need this, Coach. If I put a pause on going pro I'll lose my fucking mind. From now on I'll get my shit together and do it right. Gimme a second chance. Please."

"Jesus, relax." He waves a hand in my general direction. "This is what I mean. You're so fucking wound up and on edge. Maybe you need less on your plate than more."

Even though I don't want to admit it, he has a point. But... "Not this, Coach. Not boxing. I'll find some other way to lessen my load but I'm not dropping this, with all due respect."

He watches me for a few, strained moments that I sit through with a passive expression. I don't want him to see how desperate I am.

"Fine." He relents and I release the breath I was holding. "But we're going to train harder than ever because you have another match in one months time and I'm going to be honest—you're not ready. At all."

I nod, knowing I deserve to hear his honesty. "I'm going to give it 110%, Coach."

"Good man." He leans forward to pat my leg once then leans back. "Today was inexcusable. You fought like a fucking toddler, Hunter. Your focus was off, your technique was sloppy, and you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole damn arena. You're building a name for yourself here—one that's already compromised because no one is willing to look past your involvement in the stripping industry, and after today you just proved that you should be taken as a joke."