Chapter 11
Last night, I barely touched my drink before taking off from the bar and driving around for nearly two hours, wondering why my thoughts had suddenly become consumed with the woman living next door to me.
The woman who’d been hired without my permission.
The woman I now saw every day.
Not wanting to be around her conflicted with my desire to be near her in whatever capacity fate decided.
There was something about Sophie that made me think we shared a similar internal battle, a pain no one else could understand.
Intuition told me I was right even though I’d never ask her something so personal.
“That’s it,” Trevor shouted, hanging on to the ropes as he studied every move I made against Nico. “Remember to use the weight of your right arm, Jax. Not too much, though. You don’t wanna incapacitate him like you did Marcus. No broken ribs today, buddy.”
With a harsh and quick right jab to Nico’s headgear, he stumbled back a step, doing his best to guard against another hit.
But he failed. Funneling all my concentration into my next move, I raised my leg and connected my foot with his side before he saw it coming, finishing him off with a left hook followed by a jarring right uppercut.
He was on his back seconds later, shaking his head in bewilderment. Trevor praised me from the sidelines.
While I’d managed to literally knock my opponent off his feet, I’d gone easy on him the way I should while training.
Depending on my mood and how much adrenaline coursed through me, it was hard for me to ride that fine line.
During my actual bouts, however, all bets were off.
I channeled all my aggression and training and let loose on whoever I’d been matched with, giving the crowd a show as well as proving I deserved to be the champion in the big league. Fighting the world’s best.
Stretching my left arm over my head, I winced when I rotated my shoulder, the same old injury rearing its ugly head.
When I was twenty-two, two guys jumped me in an alleyway outside a club.
I’d been new to the UFC world but had started to make a name for myself, even acquiring a fan base.
The two of them taunted me at the bar, instigating, pushing, but I didn’t give in, which had been a first for me.
Lance had constantly reminded me I had more to lose now than ever before and that I could get kicked out of the league before my career even started.
It was his voice in my head when I’d clenched my fists, downed my shot, and left through the back door.
But they followed me. While they’d thrown the first punch, which was all caught on surveillance footage, I defended myself, but during the altercation, I’d dislocated my shoulder.
“Your shoulder bothering you again?” Trevor asked, incessantly looking at his phone, cursing under his breath as he typed. When I didn’t answer, he glanced at me, an expectant look on his face.
“Same issue,” I finally responded, craning my neck before clamping my sore shoulder, careful not to press into the muscle too firmly.
“You know Sophie can help you with that.” He tucked his device into his back pocket, giving me his full attention this time.
“What are you talking about?” I played dumb, hoping he’d lose interest and change the subject.
“Lance told me he hired her for you.” He waved his hand up and down my body. “To help work on you before and after training and eventually the fights.”
“I have you.”
“I’m not licensed, nor do I have all the latest training. Shit’s always evolving.”
“I don’t need her.”
“I think you do,” he argued, shoving his hands in his pockets. His stance was his way of telling me he was prepared to debate this topic.
“I don’t care what you think. Not about this.” The pain in my shoulder intensified, and it had everything to do with my stress level reaching stellar heights.
“Just something to think about.” He bounced his shoulders before flashing me a cocky grin, his cell ringing and slicing through the building tension between us. “Gotta take this.” Trevor walked off and left me to stew in my irritation, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.
My intention was to do a few rounds of push-ups before attacking one of the punching bags, but if I chose that route, my shoulder wouldn’t be right for two days and I’d have to take it easy during ring training.
So instead, I headed for the showers, peeking inside to ensure Sophie wasn’t already in there, cleaning.
After our encounter on the landing last night, I didn’t want to see her.
It was bad enough I could barely sleep when I arrived back to my place, the image of her in those skimpy pajamas making a home in my brain.
With the way I felt right now, I’d probably say something ignorant just to get her to leave me alone.
The hot spray of the water cascaded over my shoulder, working to assuage some of the soreness. I was careful not to rotate my arm too much, allowing the heat to work its magic for the duration of my shower.
My mind raced, and not with better fighting techniques.
But with a certain redhead. I still couldn’t wrap my head around why Lance offered to let her stay in the apartment next to me.
Didn’t he know I’d have an issue with it?
I answered the question as soon as it formed.
Of course he knew I’d have a problem with a stranger occupying the vacant apartment.
And seeing as how I owned this entire building, apartments included, he should’ve asked me first. But why should he start asking my permission now?
He did whatever he wanted without concern for what I’d say because he claimed every decision he made was in my best interest, but this time he was wrong.
Nothing good could come of Sophie continuing to work at the gym and live next door to me.
I could demand Lance get rid of her, but something told me he’d push back stronger than he ever had before. I could still insist, however. As I battled with what points to argue for her dismissal, a swirl of something akin to hesitation formed in my gut.
Dropping my head and pressing my hands against the cool tile wall, I released the air in my lungs. Over and over. It was best not to do anything about Sophie right now. Maybe, given enough time, she’d quit on her own, taking the decision away from me.
After drying off and changing into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, I headed out of the shower room.
I was four strides into the gym when I spotted Sophie in the corner, her body angled slightly toward the wall.
She was on the phone, and from the slump of her shoulders and the quickened way her chest rose and fell, something was wrong.
Against my better judgment, I took a few steps closer.
“No. I won’t. Not anymore. You can’t—” Her voice fluctuated as she spoke, frustration and defeat battling for the win.
I should’ve minded my own business and walked away, but I couldn’t move from my spot, my legs refusing to follow my brain’s instructions to not get involved.
She pulled the phone from her ear a moment later, her shoulders trembling.
I stared at her, berating myself for caring about what might possibly be wrong.
I had no idea who she’d been talking to, and I didn’t want to know, but that didn’t stop me from advancing toward her, stopping to stand directly behind her.
Sophie turned around before I could say anything, smashing into my chest because of my proximity.
When she retreated, she kept her head down, mumbling an apology when I should’ve been the one to apologize for startling her.
Again, I mentally berated myself for not hightailing it out of there.
But when she swiped at her eyes, the urge to find out what was going on was too strong for me to head in the opposite direction.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.
The palpable weight of her silence pricked my skin, and before I could dissect my odd reaction, she sucked in a breath and released it on a hiccup, a single tear falling down her cheek.
Again, she swiped at her face, picking her head up to look at me only when I took another step closer.
I repeated my question, peering deep into her entrancing blue eyes.
“No one,” she answered.
“No one?”
“I don’t want to get into it.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, licking her lips and fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
“Was it bad news?” Why did I find it necessary to press her for information? Especially when moments ago, I prayed not to run into her today, which would’ve been impossible, as she worked here.
Her response was to shrug and to switch between shaking her head and nodding, resulting in a very confusing silent answer.
“Is someone bothering you?”
Her eyes widened a fraction, telling me I’d asked the right question.
“Do you want me to get involved?”
“What? N-no,” she stuttered, as shocked as I was at having made the offer.
“Is it your ex-husband?”
Seconds after I asked the question, I’d suddenly become bombarded with a memory that had etched itself into my brain. One I wished I didn’t possess.
A memory of a woman who’d once feared her abusive husband.
A memory of the fateful day she was stolen from this world.
A memory of the anguish that had wrapped itself around me and still hadn’t released me even to this day.
“How do you know about him?” she asked, pulling me away from my thoughts. She was seemingly more interested in how I found out about her situation than answering me.
“Lance mentioned him.”
“Why were you talking about me? I thought you didn’t like me.” The smallest hint of a smile drifted over her mouth but was gone before fully lifting the corners of her lips.
“I don’t know you enough to form a proper opinion on how I feel about you.” That was a blatant lie. Sure, the part about me not knowing her was true, but I’d already formed my opinion on her, one that was quickly morphing into something else altogether.
Instead of delving further into our odd and distracting conversation, Sophie took a step to the side, keeping her attention on the ground.
“I should get back to work.” She took another step away from me, but I moved with her, an action I didn’t expect to make.
“If someone is bothering you or threatening you, do you at least know how to defend yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know how to throw a punch? Escape if someone has their hands wrapped around your throat. Defend. Yourself?” I emphasized the last two words.
A blend of sadness and fear resided behind her eyes as she whispered, “No.”
My inner voice screamed at me not to release the words resting on my lips, but with the overwhelming need to protect her, a feeling I didn’t fully understand, I gave them life.
“We’ll work on that.”