7. Asher
Asher
Ihate staying still. I hate being told I can’t do something. And I fucking hate being in pain. Of course all three are happening right now, and I fucking. Hate. It.
The doctor hasn’t come to talk to me after my MRI. I keep saying I’m fine, I probably just sprained my shoulder or something. It’s nothing I can’t work through. Shit, I’ve worked through worse before and will do it again after this.
The door opens, and I expect to see the doctor come back in with the results, but instead it’s my coach, Adam.
I slump back against the pillows and glare at him.
He’s the reason I came here in the first place to get checked out because I guess I winced when I was sparring with Drew, and of course Adam noticed.
I had some shoulder pain from my last fight, but didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary. Or I didn’t want to believe it was. In my mind, if I pretend the pain isn’t there, then it isn’t.
But Adam made me get checked out, and I was sent to the hospital for a suspected rotator cuff injury. Now here I am, just wanting to go home.
“What do you want?” I snap at the man standing just inside the threshold.
“Checking on you. That a problem?”
I grunt, “Yeah, it is.”
“You’re injured, you have to get it addressed.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have enough to worry about with your own family?”
“Everyone at my gym is my family,” he states firmly.
I scoff, even though I know he means it, I just don’t want to hear that right now.
Adam is in a relationship with Drew and their girlfriend, Max.
She’s also with another coach at Uncaged, Caine.
I looked up to him a lot when I was younger.
He’s the type of fighter I wanted to be.
I’m on the right track, which is why a fucking injury like this can’t ruin that for me.
Their relationship may seem confusing to some, but when I went to live with my half-sister, her best friend is also in a poly relationship. I don’t give a shit what other people do with their lives or in their bedrooms so I’ve never even thought twice about it.
Not sure if it would be for me, but whatever makes them happy.
The only thing I want right now is to go home, get back to training, and focus on my next fight.
“I just want to leave,” I state firmly.
“And you will, once we know what’s wrong.”
Someone else comes into the room, and this time it’s a man in a white coat who I need to start talking right away.
“Mr. Hudson?” the doctor asks.
“Yup, that’s me, tell me I can go home,” I tell him gruffly.
“You will,” the doctor starts, and I sigh in relief, but then he continues, “After your surgery.”
“Surgery?” I exclaim, barely restraining myself from launching out of the bed.
“Asher, chill out,” Adam says sternly.
“Fuck that. No, I can’t have surgery. I have fights scheduled, I can’t have surgery. I have to get back to training.” I shake my head, and I’m about to walk right out of this room.
“No, you don’t,” Adam glares.
“He’s right.” The doctor clears his throat, and I can tell how nervous he is.
He keeps looking down at the chart and I think his hand is shaking.
He better not be the doctor that would do any surgery I may or may not need.
“Physical activity will only make your injury worse. You have a complete rotator cuff tear. The only way to fix it is surgery, followed by physical therapy.”
I grit my teeth as the pain in my shoulder increases at the mention of the injury. “How long does that take? A week or two?”
The doctor looks at Adam nervously. I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for him to reply. I hope he doesn’t think Adam is my dad and start talking to him or some shit. “No, much longer.”
“I’ll get a second opinion.” I push to get up, but don’t get a chance to stop the grunt of pain at the pressure I put on my left arm. “Fuck.”
“You’re more than welcome to do that, Mr. Hudson, but the longer you wait the worse it could get.”
“Stop calling me Mr. Hudson,” I snap. I hate my name, it reminds me of my piece of shit dad who doesn’t even deserve to be considered such. I have no family, not really. The last name is a legal formality because I have to have one.
“When could he get the surgery here?” Adam asks, and I want to deck him for speaking up on my behalf.
“I’ll have to consult the surgeon, but due to the severity of the injury, I’m sure it would be sooner rather than later.”
“I still want a second opinion,” I grumble.
“Asher, don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Adam snaps.
“Fuck off, you can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m going to give you a minute.” The doctor rushes out of the room. I hardly notice because I’m glaring at Adam.
“I’m your coach, so I can tell you if you can or can’t train.”
“Whatever, Caine doesn’t give a fuck and will still train me,” I scoff.
“No, he won’t.”
“I’ll go to another gym, then.”
Adam shrugs. “Fine. No decent coach will continue to train you with an injury like that, and you’ll completely ruin your career in the process anyway.”
I grind my teeth, wanting to argue. I refuse to admit he’s right. The thought of being out of the cage for that long physically pains me.
“So what am I supposed to do? Sit around and watch everyone else train while I recover?” The thought only pisses me off even more.
“You’ll have physical therapy and when you’re ready you can slowly get back into training.”
I clench my jaw, the words flying out of my mouth because I don’t know what else to say. “Then what’s even the point of staying here?”
I came to Seaside, Oregon to train at Uncaged, the best MMA gym on the west coast. It had world renowned trainers, and was far away from Denver.
Too many terrible childhood memories plague me when it comes to that city.
I like the small town, chill vibe that Seaside has.
A little dark and gloomy, but there’s no snow, and no talk of hockey. It’s perfect.
“I guess you’re right.” Adam nods. “If you wanted to recover back at home, we would still be here when you’re ready.”
I scoff. “That’s what it really is, isn’t it? I’m useless to you now if I can’t fight so you toss me to the side.”
“That’s not at all what I said. Look at Drew, he had an injury so bad his professional career was over, and I never once kicked him out.”
“Well we all know why that is,” I snark.
“Oh yeah?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Why?”
I roll my eyes and bite my tongue because I know I’m about to go too far if I bring up his relationship with Drew, Caine, and Max. They have nothing to do with this. I’m just pissed and don’t want to be told I can’t fight.
“Maybe you should go back home for a while,” he states firmly.
“Fuck that,” I mumble.
“Might be good to see your family.”
“What fucking family?”
“The one you don’t talk about.”
“That’s because they don’t exist.” I shake my head.
He knows I have a half-sister, but that’s about it.
I don’t talk about the shit with my parents.
I really don’t talk about life with my grandma.
Then she died and I moved in with Audrey.
The only person that knows how shitty she was, is Audrey. Even then, we never talked about it.
“Think about it. Uncaged will still be here for you, but only when you’re recovered and ready.” He turns to leave, and I keep my eyes locked on my hands in front of me.
“If I even want to come back,” I murmur.
Another sharp pain shoots down my arm, and I groan, just wanting this all to go away. When I close my eyes, hoping it’ll magically make me better, I entertain the thought of Denver just for a second. The only appealing thing that comes to mind is the woman I ran into in Vegas.
Rae will be there. Maybe passing the time with her could help.
Though, the pain in my shoulder reminds me how useless I may be and I shake my head at the thought.
Like she’d want anything to do with me. A washed up, injured MMA fighter with a shitty past. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted.
Including her puppy dog Wheeler kid. The one positive thought I had about going back to Denver fades away and I’m left alone as always.