Chapter 3 Nico
THREE
NICO
The smell of sweat and Icy Hot is a comforting one. So is the sound of leather hitting leather, followed by the occasional gasp or cheer. It’s a setting that’s felt like home for as long as I can remember.
I pull on my boxing gloves and take my place at one of the heavy bags. And then I pummel the shit out of it.
Punch after punch, I lay into the bag, blowing right past the bell signaling the end of the round. It isn’t until I’ve blown past the second bell without stopping that I even start to breathe heavy.
I slow only when I hear a whistle from behind me, followed by a murmured, “Damn, Nico.”
Chest heaving, I stop throwing and turn around.
My two brothers, Lucas and Alexander, are standing at the wall. Lucas is in his perfectly tailored suit, so I know he came straight from court. Alexander is, surprisingly, wearing street clothes, so I know Lucas somehow convinced him to take a night off.
But none of that explains why they’re both here, interrupting my workout.
“It appears I’ve called this intervention too late,” I hear Lucas mutter as he pushes off the wall. “You look like you’re attempting to punch your way through that bag.”
Panting, I brace my gloved hands on my knees and give my brother a confused glare. “What intervention?”
“The one where we take you out to blow off some steam because you’re wound way too tight,” he says dryly.
My brow furrows. “I have a fight coming up.”
“That doesn’t explain why you haven’t had a rest day in nine days.”
Scowling, I look around to see who ratted me out. When my coach doesn’t meet my eyes, I sigh.
I know I’ve been pushing myself too hard. But it’s hard not to. My off days are when the restlessness hits the hardest, and when I would normally retreat to dating apps or the bar, I can’t do that anymore.
So when the need to get out of my head gets to be too much, I find myself back here. Hitting the bag.
“Now go take a shower so we can get out of here. You’re one round away from us dragging you out the door.”
I let out a tired breath of defeat. “Alright, alright,” I concede, ripping the Velcro off my gloves. “Just…gimme a minute.”
“You have ten,” Lucas says in a no-nonsense voice. “And then you’re leaving with us, with or without clothes. You need a night off, little bro.”
“Yeah, because that wouldn’t start a riot in the gym,” I grumble as I stride out of the bag room.
Eight minutes later—Lucas does not pull punches—I’m showered and dressed in clean clothes, following my two brothers out into the night air.
It’s a Tuesday night in Philadelphia. The MMA gym was filled with fighters, but the bars and restaurants are packed. It takes a five-minute walk for us to find the one Lucas is looking for.
I quirk an eyebrow as I look around. “A taco bar? Really? I thought that would be below Your Highness’s standards.”
Lucas just rolls his eyes at me. “Just because I work with millionaires doesn’t mean I’m not the same kid who shoved your face into Mom’s bowl of guacamole on taco night. Now, come on. I had Lila save us a seat in the back so Your Highness doesn’t get easily recognized.”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. But I follow him anyway, because he’s right.
I went pro in the MMA circuit about three years ago. And while I’m not anywhere near the top 10 in my weight class, I’ve made enough of a ripple that the city often recognizes me.
Doesn’t matter. That was never why I fought, anyway. The fame, the money, none of that has anything to do with my love of fighting. It’s the sport I love. The physicality of it, the competition—the beauty of it.
Sure enough, there’s a table waiting for us in the back. Lucas gives the waitress a smile dripping in charm before taking a seat and immediately opening the giant menu. I sit beside him, and Alexander takes the seat that puts his back to the wall.
“So, what can I get you boys?” Lila asks sweetly, her eyes bouncing around the table. With our group being made up of a professional athlete, a dressed-to-the-nines lawyer, and a giant, bearded guy who’s clearly ex-military, it seems like she’s trying to decide who she wants to flirt with.
In the end, Lucas is the obvious choice.
Especially when he turns to her with another devastating smile and says, “Can I get two shots of tequila to start us off? Normally, it would be three, but this guy”—he jerks his thumb at me—“has to treat his body like a temple, or something.” He grins when Lila giggles.
“And I’ll take a Corona as well, sweetheart. ”
“Corona for me, too,” Alexander says gruffly. That’s three more words than I expected him to say.
I sigh and lower the menu. “Just a water for me, please.”
The waitress beams at us as she nods. “Of course. I’ll grab those right now, and then be right back to take your food orders or answer any questions.”
When she’s out of earshot, I drop the menu onto the table harder than I mean to.
“Alright, so what is this? What are we really doing here?”
Lucas gives me a pitying look as Alexander studies the cut-up wooden table we’re sitting at. Clearly, this is going to be a fight with my louder brother.
“Exactly what I said at the gym,” Lucas says simply, dropping his own menu. “You’re wound up lately. I mean, insanely wound up. You’re killing yourself at the gym, even with a fight coming up. You’re going to burn out if you haven’t already. So, what gives?”
I fidget with the saltshaker on the table, spinning it between my hands. “Nothing,” I grumble. “I’m fine.”
“Is it a fighting thing?” Alexander asks.
I look up at my oldest brother in surprise. It’s rare for him to chime in on family discussions, or even to voice his opinion. The fact that he did has me studying him a little more closely.
He looks worried. I mean, he always looks worried, but that’s a result of his days as a Marine. He’s gotten better since he came home, relaxing more, jumping a lot less, but there’s always a part of him that seems stressed. Tonight, though, that’s amplified.
My shoulders immediately droop. I never want to stress my family out, Alexander especially.
I suck in a big breath. “It’s just… I don’t know.
I feel restless. You’d think two-a-days would burn me out, but I don’t think it’s a physical thing.
I feel aimless.” I straighten, my words coming quicker as my desperate need to explain rises.
“Fighting is great, and this isn’t me saying I’m not grateful for this fight and how far I’ve gotten, but…
I’m thirty years old. Shouldn’t there be more to life than just my work? ”
My brothers exchange a look. “More as in,” Lucas starts slowly, “a wife and family? Is this you wanting to settle down?”
I let out a gust of an exhale and lean back in my chair. “No. I don’t know. It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that. I don’t necessarily want…that, I just want…more. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“You could date more,” Alexander says with a slight shrug.
Lucas snorts. “I don’t think that’s possible. The man has more matches on dating apps than I would if I was on them.”
“That’s very helpful, thank you,” I say, sending him a glare. Then I sigh and add, “And anyway, I’m in fight camp. Dating is off the table, regardless. If that’s even the problem, which I’m not sure it is.”
“And it’s not a career thing?” Alexander asks. “Like a feeling fulfilled thing?”
“I doubt it,” I mumble. “Fighting is incredibly fulfilling. It’s not like I’m looking for a new hobby.”
“We could try a pottery class, just to be sure,” Lucas says helpfully.
My glare only narrows. He must sense I’m two seconds away from standing up and leaving because he lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry, just trying to throw some ideas out there.”
I slump back into my seat. “I think I just need a change. Something new. Someone new. I don’t know, it sounds stupid and vague.”
My brothers share another curious look.
“We could plan a trip,” Lucas suggests, turning back to me. “Get away for a little bit. Go to a random small town in Europe with no tourists.”
A tired sigh escapes me. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Think about it,” Lucas says. “Even if we only go for a few days. You give me the green light, and I’ll set it up, yeah?”
I nod, but my chest still feels tight. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it. Thanks.”
He claps his hands together. “Fantastic. Now that we’ve covered that topic, we can focus on getting drunk and sharing more of our feelings.” He points a finger at Alexander. “Starting with how you’re doing, Marine.”
At that, Alexander’s eyes turn to slits. “Don’t make me hang you on the coat hook behind you,” he growls. He looks to me for backup, but I just shrug.
“Hey, you sprang this intervention on me. This is all you two.”
With perfect timing, the waitress returns with our drinks. She sets everything down on the table, then straightens with a smile.
“Alright, have we decided on any food? Can I get you a starter? Maybe some chips and guacamole?”
“No!” we all shout in unison.
It startles Lila back a step, so Lucas quickly reassures her.
“Sorry, darling. Guacamole brings back bad memories. No, we’ll just take some nachos for now.”
“Actually, I’ll take an order of the carne asada tacos,” I interject, feeling my stomach rumble after a too-long workout.
“Make that three,” Alexander tacks on in a gruff voice.
Lucas’s brow furrows. “Since when do you order for me?”
Alexander only blinks at him. “Who said it was for you?”
I hide my chuckle in a sip of water.
Lucas sighs and hands Lila his menu. “Fine. Make it four orders of the carne asada tacos for these animals.” Once she’s gone, he takes the shot of tequila in hand and lifts it into the air.
“A toast. To…figuring out the point.” He looks around our table with a thoughtful glance as we lift our own glasses. “For all of us,” he adds quietly.