A loud gasp gets caught in my throat as I try to pull in air, willing myself to breathe. The fist that's firmly planted in my gut isn't exactly allowing me to do that. The pain is so intense, so blinding, that for a moment I black out. For a moment, darkness washes over my vision and I stumble before falling to the hard floor of the ring on my hands and knees. I cough out against the strain that's blocking my airway and finally, finally, am able to take a deep breath that expands my lungs. Except even pulling in oxygen at this point is so painful that my breathing sounds more like wheezing.

In case you didn't pick up on it, I'm getting my ass kicked. Bad.

I should've gotten my shit together four rounds ago but instead, my technique is getting sloppier and my focus is diminishing. I've never fought so bad in my life and I can't seem to snap out of it. But if I'm being honest with myself I was distracted before I even got in the ring.

I've been distracted for a whole month.

Ever since that day in Coach's office when he made Jaxon head of the youth division and took ten years off my life with the news that Delilah got in a car accident, I've been nothing but a fucking wreck. It felt like the whole ordeal was moving in slow motion—the ride to the hospital, seeing Del bruised and battered and hooked up to all sorts of machines, waiting those antagonizing three days when she was unconscious, the doctor warning us the baby had a ninety-nine percent chance of being premature, and the absolute toll the trauma of it all took on Del. It changed her in so many ways, it's become hard to recognize her.

I never thought I'd be glad about the fact that we didn't get into a relationship.

Just thinking about what it could have done to us sinks my stomach. What if we'd been dating after the endless amount of times Del told me she wanted to focus on Zack only for all of this to happen when she was too preoccupied with me? It would make sense that she might've blamed me or at the very least associated me with the fact that everything is going wrong because her attention was elsewhere and not where it should have been. Then she would never want anything to do with me or even consider giving me a chance. Then again, I'm not exactly on her list of priorities lately but part of me is glad because I'm not sure I want anything to happen between us right now. Getting into a relationship with someone broken doesn't fix them and Del has never been more broken in her life. I want to be there for her but...I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with the fact that she's changed so much. I could have fought harder but truthfully I let her push me away. I'm a fucking pussy.

"Watch out!" I hear right before pain bursts out on my temple and travels all the way down my spine. I land on my stomach, my hands and knees giving out beneath me, and my head bounces against the floorboard as I feel my mind swaying. Fuuuuuck. I know what's happening before it actually does. I know what's happening when darkness surrounds me until I'm drowning in it and everything fades away.

I've just been knocked out.

***

"How you feeling, brother?"

It takes a second to process the question that just came out of Asher's mouth as he eyes me warily, concern evident in the tightness of his features.

Why is he asking me that? Did something happen to me? I wrack through my brain for answers.

And fall back on the couch with a groan when I remember.

My second pro match against William Hodge, some preppy British dude. He's definitely a good fighter but I know my skills and capabilities and I know that it should have been me that won that match—easily.

"Fuck!" I punch one of the cushions angrily and run a hand through my still-damp hair. That means I haven't been unconscious for too long. I reluctantly ask, "How long was I out?"

"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."

I wince. There's that ass-kicking I wanted in full force. But everything he's saying he's true and I deserve to be put in my place. That's what makes him such a good fucking coach.

"I hear you." I meet his disappointed gaze even though it shrivels up my balls. I have to be a man about this. "You're right."

"I know I'm right. I also know what I taught you and that shit you pulled in the ring was not it. You represent me, you do it well and you do it right. Got me?"

I nod. There's no point in denying what he's saying.

"You're not going home for a while, Hunter." He stands up and flicks his wrist, gesturing for me to do the same. I get to my feet and ignore the throbbing in my head. Now is not the time to be complaining about the injuries I only brought on myself. "We're gonna get you checked by the doctor and then it's back to my office to deconstruct this entire match. Start to finish, we'll be analyzing everything you did wrong. No complaints."

"No complaints." I agree. I would rather sit through all of that then alone at my place knowing that the girl-next-door is just next to me yet we've never felt further apart.

***

I'm just inserting the keys to my apartment when the sound of the elevator dinging grabs my attention. I glance in the general direction absent-mindedly but do a double take when a familiar pair of grey eyes meet mine. Something painful forms in my gut when Delilah gives me a small but tired smile. There's dark circles underneath her eyes that indicate she hasn't been getting much sleep, probably because of the nightmares. Though I know they're less frequent now, I still hear occasional screams that startle me awake.

My eyes flick downwards to the grocery bags in her hands as she walks—or more like waddles—her way down the hall. I curse under my breath. I'm not that much of an asshole that I'm going to let a pregnant woman carry all her shit by herself.

"Here, let me." I close the distance between us in a couple of quick strides and take the bags from her. She doesn't even protest, that's how I know how tired she is.

"Still not getting much sleep?" I don't know why I'm whispering. Maybe because it's late and most of our neighbours are asleep. Maybe because it feels weird to be having a conversation with her.

"No." She shakes her head, also whispering. I wonder if she's thinking the same things I am. "I've gotten better but I still have a long way to go."

"You drive by yourself?" I watch as she unlocks her door and follow her inside. I set the bags on the kitchen table and watch her with worry as she takes a seat, kicking off her flats and dragging a hand down her face.

"First time since the accident." She confirms and rubs her stomach which looks so much bigger than the last time I saw it. I realize that she's only a couple weeks away from eight months and it explains her stress much better. She's probably hoping the little guy stays inside for her early due date and not a moment sooner.

"How was it?" I take the seat across from her. I know I kind of just invited myself and we haven't been on speaking terms but she looks like she needs a friend right now.

"Awful, Nate." She laughs but it's humourless. "My psychiatrist said I was ready but it didn't feel like it. Halfway to the grocery store I pulled over and had a breakdown. It took me twenty minutes to start my car again and drive the remaining half. The way back wasn't much better either but I made sure I cried myself out in the parking lot before I started driving."

"Shit." My hand curls into a fist as rage makes my spine rigid. "You sure this psychiatrist is any good?"

"Yeah." She sighs and stretches out her legs. She rubs her eyes and it's only then do I notice that they're still sort of red-rimmed. "I mean it was a disaster but now that I've done it and got through it I feel...I don't know. Not better by any means but at least just a little less awful. I definitely won't be good driving company anytime soon."

"But you did it." I point out softly.

She gives me that tired smile again. "I did it."

We sit in silence for a few minutes and it feels pretty great just being in her company. I know most of my anger had to do with the fact that she was pushing me away but I didn't exactly make an effort to fight it either. I gave up after the first couple tries because I was a fucking pussy about being hurt by her when all this time, she's been hurting worse than I could even fathom. Like I said—I've been an asshole.

I want to apologize and make things right but something stops me. It just doesn't feel like the right time right now. Besides, this is the first proper conversation we've had in weeks and I'm surprised at how pleasant it is. I don't know want to push it anymore and test my luck so I choose to stay quiet and hope another opportunity will present itself. Right now Del needs to focus on the baby and I need to focus on my career. It's just not a good time. Nevertheless, I do want to make one thing clear.

"I know we're in a weird place right now," I start and she looks up at me. Her gaze is part wary, part curious. "But I just want you to know that I'm still around if you need me. This past month has been life-changing for you in the worst way possible and I get that. I also get that you need your space and I haven't exactly put up a fight giving it to you. That's on me. I just want you to know I'm still somebody you can call for help."

"Thanks." She whispers, ducking her head. She fiddles with the hem of her shirt and keeps her focus on it as she speaks. "I know I haven't been easy to be around. I've been a piece of work lately and I'm really trying my best to make it out of this dark place. Nobody owes me their patience. I know that. But...well, I just want you to know that whether or not you choose to stick around, you're really important to me."

Her words flood my veins with regret until I feel dizzy on it. I really made her think I gave up, didn't I? That too after she's already been abandoned twice and now thinks I'm next on that list. Somebody needs to kick my ass.

"I'm not going anywhere." I promise. Her head snaps up in surprise. "I mean technically I got to get going now because it's really late but I'm still a part of your life, Del. If that's okay with you."

One corner of her lips tips up. "I'd like that."

"I'm glad." I take a moment to find something else to talk about. I'm not ready to leave just yet. "Greta isn't staying with you anymore?"

"No. We decided earlier this week that I'd be okay for the most part since the nightmares are less frequent. She's going to stay with me during weekends until the baby gets here, maybe even afterwards."

"That's not too far away, huh?" I point a finger at her belly.

"Obviously." She blushes slightly. "I look like a whale."

"Whales are cute."

"That's really not helping."

"They're so majestic."

"Nate. Stop."

"Sorry." I chuckle. "I never asked how Mark reacted. He does know, right?"

"Found out right before the accident." Her entire demeanour dims a bit with the reminder and I curse myself for asking the question. "He was on vacation a month before that."

"Maldives, right?"

"Yeah and I wasn't really showing at five months. He came back when I was starting my seventh month and looked like he was going to pass out. He legitimately thought he hallucinated the past month and was actually gone for a year."

"Poor guy." We share a laugh. "I'm surprised he hasn't texted me about it."

"I specifically told him not to." She cuts me a look. "I don't want you boys gossiping over me."

"You mean us men." I correct.

"I don't meant that, no."

"Damn." I press a hand to my chest and wince like I've been shot. It's impossible to keep my smile to myself when that gets a soft laugh out of her.

"Anyways," She starts after a few beats of comfortable silence. "It's been a long day and I need to try and get some sleep. I'm sorry in advance if I wake you up tonight. I never know when the nightmares will hit."

"Don't apologize." I stand up and shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from hugging her or brushing her hair back from her face or something. I wonder if she's ever realized how often I do that around her. "Just let me know it's only your nightmare and not an intruder otherwise I'll bust your door down, baseball bat in hand and all."

"Uh-huh. Business man, stripper, boxer, and now my own personal security guard, huh?"

"I know. I'm impressive."

She bites the inside of her cheek as she stands up and leads me to the front door.

"I'll see you around?" I ask hopefully just as I step outside into the hallway.

"You will." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Goodnight, Nate."

"Goodnight, Delilah." I hold her gaze as I walk backwards. I know she's still watching me as I put my key into my apartment's lock for the second time and I close the door behind me, stopping myself from giving her a final glance and appearing too desperate. Immediately I pull out my phone and open up the text chain between Aria and I.

I blow out an unsteady breath and head towards my room, stripping my shirt off as I go. My skin is slightly damp and I use my shirt to pat myself down. I was shutting bricks the whole time Del and I were talking. I thought for sure that she might kick me out or something after the way I've been avoiding her. What the hell have I been thinking these past few weeks?

I flop down on my bed just as my phone rings and I answer it immediately. "Hello?"

"Are you okay?" Aria's voice is frantic. I wince.

"I'm fine. Sorry if the text sounded ominous."

"I thought something happened, you dickwad! Scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry, sis. I just really need your advice."

"Fine, but you owe me a foot rub on my next visit."

"Gross." I mutter. "Whatever. I'll do it."

"Wow. You must be really desperate."

"I just got back from Del's apartment." I rush out in a single breath.

There's an audible pause. "Did you guys..."

"Jesus, Ria! She's almost due, you sicko."

"Right. Sorry. Had to ask. What is it then?"

"Nothing. We just...talked." I run a hand through my hair and get comfortable as I lay back against the mass of pillowed by my headboard. I look up at the wall above my bed and wonder what Del is up to now. It's become a nighttime ritual for me. "I haven't spoken to her in weeks and we finally had a conversation today. It was good."

"That's great Nate but why haven't you talked to her in that long? You were going out of your mind when she got in the accident."

I flinch at the reminder. The first thing I did when I found out was call Ria on the drive there, sounding desperate and miserable. I couldn't stop talking about my fear that I would lose her for good or that I'd be a wreck without her and it took Ria the entire drive to calm me down. Barely. So I can't blame her for being confused. "She pushed me away."

"So?"

"I don't know what to say, Ria. She became so distant after the accident. She didn't want anyone around her."

"No shit, Sherlock. Her entire life changed in the blink of an eye. She almost lost her own life and her baby's life. When you go through something as traumatic as that, you're bound to isolate yourself out of fear. That's exactly what I did after what happened with Robbie. My own grief convinced me I deserved to be alone but you didn't let that happen, Nate. You pushed. So why didn't you push with her?"

Guilt floods every inch of me until I'm drowning it. I know she's right and there's not a damn thing I can say. "I fucked up."