“Um…more like boxing, I guess.” she stated. “I thought there would be a referee or something, but there didn’t seem to be any rules.”
“Not many,” I agreed. “That’s why I like it.”
“He grabbed you by the hair,” she said. “Is that allowed?”
I shrugged.
“Incentive for me to get a haircut.” I was still grinning, but as I watched her eyes, the smile left my face, and it was replaced with a lump in my throat and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“It’s brutal,” she said as she eyed the cage.
I knew by the look in her eyes what she really meant. She didn’t know what the fighting was going to be like before she saw it. She didn’t know there would be bloodshed and mayhem. In her mind, this wasn’t the same as watching me protect her from a group of thugs or from her asshole ex-boyfriend. This was different.
She didn’t like it.
Sitting against the back of the chair, I brought my drink up to my lips and drained it. Each and every tiny option I had let creep into my mind since the conversation with Yolanda earlier in the day quickly expelled itself from any realm of possibility.
I was a fighter. It wasn’t just a matter of making a living—it was a way of life for me. I loved it. I loved it, and I would never, ever consider doing anything else, and Tria would never want anything to do with it.
Her next words pretty much sealed my thoughts in granite.
“How can two people just do that to each other?” Tria asked softly. Her eyes stayed on the cage. “You don’t know each other. You’ve never wronged each other. Why? Why would you do that for…for…for what?”
She turned to me, and we stared at one another, our gaze locked.
“Is it just for the money?” she asked.
“No.” I shook my head.
“You really do like being in there, don’t you?”
I could only nod.
“Doesn’t it…hurt?” Her eyes became intense and filled with unshed tears, and I could sense her need to understand.
“It makes me feel,” I said quietly. I nodded my head toward the chain links. “Inside there, I’m alive.”
“And the rest of the time?” she whispered.
“I’m just…existing.”
Everything I had told Yolanda ran through my mind again. There was no way I was a good match for Tria even if I was inclined to consider taking a chance on another actual relationship. She would never be all right with what I did for a living, and it was the only thing that had kept me sane for nearly a decade.
I had to forget the very notion.
I was never one to try to attain the unattainable, but I still found it hard to let go.
Chapter 13—Set the Rhythm
Walking home was a lot quieter than our walks had been in the past. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and Tria just seemed to be in some kind of deep thought or something. Unlike some of the times we had spent a block or two in silence as we went from home to work or work to home, this one felt very uncomfortable to me.
Tria had definitely not liked the fight. No doubt about that at all. I was pretty sure that’s what she was thinking about, and I was also pretty sure I didn’t want to know the details.
Back at the apartment, I opened the door and held it for Tria. She smiled up at me as she walked in, but there was no sparkle in her eyes like there usually was when she smiled at me.
Tria collected her sweats and T-shirt and headed into the bathroom to shower and change. It was freaking cold in the place, and I decided to break down and turn the heat up. In the hallway, the little thermostat read sixty-two, which I bumped up to sixty-eight and listened to the fan kick on.
Maybe it would keep me from trying to spoon my roommate after I fell asleep.