Chapter 36 Victor
VICTOR
Three nights. Seventy-two hours of sleeplessness, of staring at my ceiling like it holds the answers I can’t find inside myself. My bed feels too empty, too cold. I keep reaching for him in the darkness.
At the gym, I’m a ghost. I move through training sessions, business meetings, fighter consultations—all on autopilot while my mind circles the same questions.
Who am I if not the man I’ve built myself to be? What remains of Victor Kaine if I tear down these walls?
The third night, I sit on my balcony until dawn, nursing a whiskey I barely taste.
The city lights blur before me as memories of Theo flash through my mind—his smile when I finally admitted I liked his music, the way he curls against me in sleep, how he sees straight through my bullshit with those perceptive eyes.
By morning, I know what I have to do.
The fourth night, I drive to his building. Park across the street where I can see his windows—lights on, meaning he’s home. My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.
Everything I’ve built feels suddenly precarious. My reputation. My business. The respect I’ve earned. Seven years of building Kaine’s Fight Club from nothing, creating something that’s mine, something that can’t be taken from me the way fighting was when my knee gave out.
Or so I thought.
One hour passes as I sit in my car. One hour of rehearsing words that feel inadequate, of imagining scenarios where I walk away, where I drive home and pretend these past months never happened.
But they did happen. He happened. And sitting here now, heart pounding like I’m about to step into the ring for the fight of my life, I realize the truth I’ve been running from:
I’ve never been more myself than when I’m with Theo.
Micah’s words keep echoing in my head. “Half the guys here aren’t straight.” Half. And they’ve all been hiding, watching their words, careful not to let anything slip because they thought I wouldn’t approve. Because of the environment I created.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, shame burning through me like acid. All this time, I’ve been terrified of losing everything—my gym, my fighters’ respect—based on a lie I’ve been telling myself. I created a prison of silence and trapped everyone in it, not just me.
I close my eyes, seeing Jonah, Remy, Cruz... guys who trust me with their careers, their dreams, their physical well-being. Guys who couldn’t trust me with their truth because I couldn’t face my own.
And Theo... God, Theo’s face when he asked if I was ashamed of him.
Those eyes that usually dance with mischief are still and serious.
The slight tremble in his voice that he tried to hide.
“Are you ashamed of me, Victor?” The question hung between us like a noose around my neck.
All this time, he’s been chipping away at it, brick by brick- alone and fighting to reach me.
I couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t find the words to explain that it wasn’t shame—it was fear. Fear that’s been ruling me since I was a kid trying to prove I was tough enough, man enough.
I remember the way he held me that night, when everything broke open inside me. My body shaking with sobs I couldn’t control, tears I’d been holding back my whole life. Decades of pretending to be invulnerable, unbreakable—all of it crumbling in his arms.
And he just held me. Didn’t look away. Didn’t make me feel weak. Just watched me with those dark eyes that see straight through me.
For the first time in my life, someone saw all of me—not just the fighter, the businessman, the tough guy—and didn’t turn away. He saw my fear, my confusion, my weakness, and he stayed. He wanted me anyway.
What kind of man throws that away?
Finally, I step out of the car. The walk to his building feels like crossing a minefield, each step a decision I can’t take back.
My hand trembles slightly as I press the button for his apartment. No answer. Maybe he saw me through the window, sitting in my car like some stalker for the past hour. Maybe he’s done waiting.
I try again, holding it longer this time.
The intercom crackles. “Yes?” His voice—cool, detached.
“It’s me.” The words barely escape my dry throat. “Can I come up?”
A long pause follows, long enough that I think he’s going to refuse. Then the door buzzes open.
The elevator ride feels endless. I’ve rehearsed this moment for days—what I’ll say, how I’ll explain that I’ve been living in fear, that I’ve created the very prison I was afraid of, that I’m ready to tear down these walls because what’s on the other side is worth it.
When the elevator doors open, he’s already standing in his doorway, barefoot in black joggers and a thin white t-shirt. His hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it. Dark circles shadow his eyes.
We just look at each other.
All my carefully prepared words evaporate like morning dew under a harsh sun. My mind goes blank, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth.
“Come to the gym tomorrow,” I blurt out. “I want you to meet my fighters. As my... as the person I’m seeing.”
Theo’s expression doesn’t change. His eyes, usually so expressive, reveal nothing. He stands statue still, arms crossed over his chest.
“Why now?” he asks, his voice quiet but steady.
“Because I’m miserable without you. Because I’m tired of being afraid. Because you deserve better than secret parking garage fucks and hidden coffee dates.”
The words tumble out unfiltered. My pulse spikes like I’m back in the ring, exposed and vulnerable. I take a step closer to him, close enough to catch his scent—the sandalwood scent that’s been haunting me for weeks.
“Because I’m choosing you. I’m choosing us. And I’m done hiding.”
Theo’s eyes search my face, looking for any sign of hesitation or bullshit. I’ve never felt more exposed, standing here in his hallway with everything laid bare. No deflection. No excuses. Just the truth I’ve been running from since the moment I first saw him.
His gaze is steady, unflinching. I recognize that look—he’s weighing my words, testing them for weakness the way I test a new fighter’s defense. But there’s something else there too, a cautious flicker that I’ve grown far too accepting of.
“Just your core team?” he asks finally, his voice softer than before.
I swallow hard. “For now. Baby steps.”
It’s not everything he deserves. Not yet. But it’s a start—the first real step toward dismantling the walls I’ve built.
Theo nods slowly. “Okay. Baby steps.”