Max ♕
_______________
Torn rotator cuff. That's what the Doc diagnosed me with this morning when we discussed the results of last week's MRI. I had some pain, and when it looked like it wasn't getting better with time, I caved and returned to the hospital.
Now I wish I hadn't. Until now, I had convinced myself that getting back to boxing was possible, but hearing terms like surgery and physiotherapy makes it seem less and less likely. If I do end up needing surgery, that's six months of recovery and another twelve months of rehabilitation before I can even think about stepping in the ring. Any naive notions I'd had of restarting my career are over.
I lift my bag onto my shoulder and stare at the cracked double doors of the gym. At the Doctor's orders, I'd taken a week off training and work to care for Kino. But avoiding the gym wasn't something I could do forever. For someone like me, going without training is like going without air – pretty damn impossible.
With a deep breath, I climb the steps, drop my gym bag in the locker room, and make my way to the weights. It's one of the only nights Alyssa doesn't come to train, which is why I picked it. She'd asked for space, so I've been trying to give her as much space as possible, even if it kills me. If she ever forgives me, and that's a big if, it will be on her terms, not mine. I just have to be patient.
I walk over to the weights section and pick up a pair of dumbbells. As I lift, I feel the strain in my muscles, my biceps tightening with each curl. It hurts like hell, a fiery sensation wrapping around my tendons and tearing into my muscles, the skin ablaze with heat. I figured I'd start small with some lightweight dumbells, but even that's proving a challenge, which means it's official.
I'm screwed.
"The sight of you trying to lift those is pitiful," Hayden says from somewhere behind me. He's right, but separating an O'Connor from his pride isn't easy – just ask my dad. "Put them down, O'Connor. The last thing I need is for you to get an injury on the premise."
"Hayden Walker, ladies and gentlemen. The empath." I turn to face him, noting the hint of amusement in his expression. He's the only one I'd told about the torn rotator cuff, and even though he's being laid-back, his expression holds that protective brotherly concern.
"Hey," he says, leaning against the wall. "I'm empathetic when the situation calls for it. I just can't handle stupidity." He tilts his head, giving me this look I've come to resent. "In case you can't read between the lines: you training with a fucked up arm is stupid."
Jaw clenched, I put down the weights and stretch my arms, feeling the strain. It's not like I have a death wish, but sitting around resting isn't exactly my style. The longer I stay out of that ring, the more it feels like I'll never go back in. Which is funny 'cause it wasn't long ago that I'd contemplated quitting boxing. Now I can't think of anything worse.
"It's temporary, O'Connor," Hayden says, stepping into my eye line. "Boxers tear their cuffs all the time. Another year, maybe less, and you'll be right as rain."
"I don't have a year." I'm looking at my hands as I say it, examining old scars. This gym is like my lifeline, the one thing that's kept me going these past few weeks. Without it, without her, I have nothing. "The fight was already my last chance at salvaging a career. Another year out of the game, and it's over for me, Walker. Then what?"
"Then we adapt," Hayden says. "Like always."
I glance up to see he's serious, those green eyes blazing protectively. Whatever happens next, whether it's surgery or boxing or something else entirely, he'll be standing there right alongside me. "And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime," he says, "make yourself useful and see if anyone needs help."
The corner of my mouth twitches. I ignore his tone and spend the next few hours making rounds across the gym, supporting those who need it with their form. And even though it's not the same as training, I can see why Hayden likes coaching. Seeing that moment on some kid's face when you've helped them to master their jab or footwork is priceless.
I go on like this for a little while longer, mostly supporting the younger ones while Hayden takes the older kids. The sound of the speed bag fills the air as another boxer practices his quick combos. I watch for a moment and then step in to demonstrate a technique he could incorporate. He seems eager to learn, and we work together, exchanging tips and techniques. For a while, I forget how royally screwed I am.
At some point, Maddie walks in and heads toward Hayden, kissing him on the cheek. She's pretty much my only source of information when it comes to Alyssa, and even then, it's like getting blood from a stone. The last I heard, Alyssa's dad left, and she moved out of Maddie's dorm to live with her mom, but that's as much as she'll tell me. When I'd messaged Alyssa to see how she was, I never got a reply.
"I want to see that heavy bag gleaming, O'Connor."
I stop cleaning the heavy bag and turn around to see Maddie standing in front of me. She's got her arms crossed, giving off sergeant in the military as she smiles up at me. "Don't push it, Goodwright. You heard from her?"
"Please," she says, "for the love of god, just message her already. I don't want to be the middleman anymore."
"I'm giving her space."
"It's been a week. I'd say that's more than enough space."
I shrug and return to wiping down a heavy bag. "Her fight is this weekend. I don't want to mess with her head beforehand."
She sighs and steps in front of the bag until I'm forced to look at her. "Are you going?"
"Wouldn't miss it," I say, "although I might have to hide at the back."
She smiles. "For what it's worth, I think she'd want you there, even if she won't ask you."
"Let's hope," I say, "or else she's getting one hell of a shock." I shift my attention to the next heavy bag, getting ready to ask for the second time how Alyssa is, but she quickly hurries across the gym to rejoin Hayden.
For the rest of the evening, I slip into a comfortable rhythm of cleaning and assisting. By the time closing comes around, the place is sparkling, and I don't feel as hopeless as I had this morning, which is something, at least.
I grab my bag from the locker room, about to head out when Hayden invites me to a birthday party in Pasadena. I'm not exactly in the mood for socializing, but going home means laying around and thinking about Alyssa, and I've been doing that all week. Instead, I follow him out, where we stow our gym bags in the trunk of his car and arrange for an Uber to take us to Pasadena.
"An hour tops," Hayden promises. "I just wanna say happy birthday to Stanny."
"Maddie didn't want to go?"
He smirks. "Unfortunately, no. She made me promise to keep you in check if I invited you, though."
Grinning, I say, "You sure it wasn't the other way around?"
"Nah," he says, turning to the window. "I'm the good one."
By the time we arrive, the place is already teeming with bodies. We dip into the house, greeting several guys I went to school with, and though it's the sort of party I'd caution Kino to steer clear of, I've never been good at following my own advice.
While Hayden makes his rounds, I grab a beer and sink onto the sofa, catching up with an old school friend, Ty. He's doing well for himself, despite being voted most likely to end up in prison, and I'm glad to hear he's figured things out – it's more than I can say for myself.
"You know, I heard about the fight the other week," he says, side-eying me with a grin. "Everyone was talkin' about it. Not like you, bro. Not the new you, anyway."
I shrug and chug my beer. "Slipped up."
"Hey, it happens. You alright, though?"
It's the kind of question no one ever answers, honestly, but right now, I don't care. "Not really."
He leans back against the sofa, staring down at the beer bottle in his hands, a wistful look on his face. "Yeah, me either."
I raise my beer bottle, clinking it with his, and we both take a swig. The last time I came to a party like this was with Alyssa. I figured she'd say hell no when I invited her, but she didn't. She spent the night dancing with me in a cramped, smoky living room, like she could care less where we were as long as we were together. And the part that scared me? I felt the same way too.
"Look what the cat dragged in." I look up to find Ax grinning down at me, a joint in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. "We were starting to think you were too good to hang with us."
"Never that." I get to my feet, giving him a quick hug before sitting back down again. We get talking for a little while, but the second he asks where my girl is tonight, it feels like a blow to the chest.
I shrug, grateful when Hayden passes me a drink. At the same time, a girl I vaguely remember slinks over, positioning herself in the tight space between me and the edge of the sofa.
"I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth," she says, practically hitting me in the face with her lashes. "Are you back now?"
The smell of her perfume fills the air, strong and overbearing. I chug my beer while staring at Hayden, who's wearing a shit-eating grin at my discomfort. "Not exactly."
"Just for tonight?" She slips her arms around my shoulders, forcing me to tilt away from her vodka-smelling breath. I remove her arms from my neck and stand up, telling Hayden that I'm going outside to get some fresh air.
"You want me to come?" he asks.
"I'm good. I'll be back in a minute," I say, even though there's less than a forty percent chance of me returning.
Outside, the fresh air feels like a slap in my face. As I walk, the sound of laughter and music from the house gradually fades, replaced by the quiet night. I don't know what the hell Hayden thought inviting me out tonight would achieve, but I can safely say not a damn thing has changed. I take out my phone, scrolling through past messages from Alyssa, desperately trying to find any excuse not to message her.
I'm still waging some internal debate when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, expecting to find a message from Hayden, but it's Alyssa.
Hey.
I stop dead on the sidewalk, heart racing like a damn kid. That's it, just hey, as if we haven't spent the last week in silence.
Hey, I type back. Everything okay?
No. Another message follows straight after. Yeah, I'm just being stupid.
I frown. Tell me.
It takes a few minutes for the message to come through, as if she's thought long and hard about sending it. I need to ask you a favor, but I'll understand if you say no.
I type back immediately. Anything.
Can you stay over tonight? I'm at my mom's.
My heart pounds. Something is wrong, I can tell by the way she's messaging, but I don't question it. The only thing I think about is how long it will take me to get to her. I'm in Pasadena. I'll be forty minutes.
Thank you.
I'm already arranging an Uber when her message comes through. There's a driver seven minutes away, so I slip my phone into my pocket and lean against a street lamp, surprised by how nervous I am to see her. Hell, I'm more than nervous.
I'm downright desperate.
A/N
Comment a heart if you're ready for the next chapter! ❤️