Chapter 34 Shadowboxing （Nate）
SHADOWBOXING (NATE)
Yorkville parking is a joke. I finally muscle the SUV into a space barely wider than a goal post, cut the engine, and sit there a second, hands loose on the wheel.
She hasn’t called back.
All day, I kept reaching for her. After lifting, between film, even ducking out of a sponsor thing. Call. Text. Most of the time, nothing. Once she shot back a quick line:
Eden
Can’t talk now.
That’s it. No call, no follow-up, no spark of her usual self.
I keep trying to tell myself she’s slammed with opening-day chaos—new clients, onboarding the massage hire. But Eden’s the kind of woman who can mobilize a cranky hip, map a rehab progression, and still fire off a line that makes me laugh.
One-word texts? Silence?
That’s not her.
And pretending it doesn’t get under my skin? That’s the lie.
This morning, Alex ran my PT session instead of her. He’s a great guy—professional, thorough—but all it did was remind me what I’m missing. Her hands steady on me. Her eyes reading more than muscle. Her voice, telling me where to move, when to hold, when to breathe.
Not having her today cut deeper than it should have.
Now I’m parked outside her clinic, staring at the lights off in the front windows. All I can think is one thing: Call me back, Trouble.
I lean back against the headrest, letting the weight of her silence settle in my chest. My phone lights up on the console, and my pulse jumps. Finally.
But when I grab it and realize it’s not her, I drag a hand down my face and answer anyway. “Jessica.”
“You’ve seen the posts?”
“Everywhere,” I bite out, eyes on the clinic windows.
“It’s not hitting you yet—no sponsors, no team chatter—but social media’s a beast. I’d rather see it die fast before it mutates.”
My teeth grind.
She softens. “It’s Eden I’m worried about. Optics like this stick. Do you want me to step in? Some good ol’ crisis management?”
I don’t answer right away. Eden’s silence, Jessica’s warning, it all presses in at once.
“Thanks, Jess,” I groan finally. “I’ll call you. Let me check in with her first.”
“Sooner’s better than later,” she reminds me.
The clinic door clicks shut behind me. The calming smell seeps in. Eucalyptus, lemon oil, clean lines. But the vibe’s wrong. It’s too still.
She’s at the front desk, shoulders slumped, staring at the open laptop. The screen shows her half empty calendar. Dark circles shadow her eyes, and her hands tremble slightly on the keyboard.
Her gaze lifts when I step closer. Red-rimmed. Hollow. Not the woman who teases me through treatments and fights me on everything from rep counts to playlists.
“Trouble—” I start.
She shakes her head. “Not tonight, Nate.”
Three words, flat and sharp, but her tone splinters at the edges.
I cross the room anyway, every instinct screaming to haul her out of that chair and into my chest, to tell her she doesn’t have to hold the wreckage by herself.
But she’s sitting so stiff it’s like she’s daring me to touch her and see how fast she shatters.
“We’ll sort this out,” I say softly. “I promise it will all be good.”
Her fingers snap the laptop shut, not even entertaining a response.
We linger in the silence, frozen for a beat, until the door opens.
There’s a shift of air, followed by the heavy thud of boots on polished floor.
Leo steps inside, face shadowed, rage simmering beneath the bruises still blooming from last week’s fight.
Broad shoulders fill the doorway, his expression granite.
He moves straight to Eden. “You okay, kid?” His tone drops low, gentler than I’ve heard in years.
He crouches beside her chair, his massive hand covering her wrist, thumb brushing once-over her knuckles.
“It’s a bump in the road, E. Nothing more.
Business is volatile. You took a hit, you’ll get back up. ”
She leans into it, shoulders sagging, head bowing under his touch. She lets him ground her.
And I stand there, mouth tight, watching my girl let someone else hold her together.
Then Leo looks up. Sees me. And the softness vanishes. “This is on you,” he snarls, rising to his full height. “I told you to stay the hell away from her. But you couldn’t do it, could you? You needed to scratch the itch. And now she’s the one paying for it.”
My fists clench, but I don’t back down. “You think this is about me getting off? You don’t understand a goddamn thing, Leo. I care about Eden.”
His stare flares, feral. “If you cared, you would’ve stayed away. I asked you one thing. To keep your hands off my sister. And now she’s the one picking up the fucking tab.”
Eden flinches, eyes darting between us.
Leo barrels on, his voice sharp as glass.
“You could have any woman you want—models, actresses, half the damn arena throwing themselves at you. But no, you had to zero in on her. The one person I swore to protect. And look what it got her. Canceled clients, a reputation in shreds, dragged through the mud because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. ”
Heat sears my chest. I bite back the word love—it’s hers to hear first, not his. I step closer, chest nearly brushing his. “You think this is about sex? You think I’d risk all this for a casual fuck? She’s not some hookup, Leo. She’s—” My throat locks. “She’s my Eden.”
Leo barks a laugh, low and humorless. “Your Eden? You’re a selfish bastard, Russo. The star goalie who takes whatever he wants. And this time, you wanted her. So you took her. And now she’s bleeding for it.”
“Hey,” Eden cuts in, words sharp. “You cavemen realize I’m standing right here?”
Leo’s head snaps toward her, but the fury doesn’t let up.
He turns back to me, rage breaking loose.
“Don’t think I didn’t see it. You drooling over her since she was barely a teenager.
Every summer, your eyes tracking her like she already belonged to you.
You thought you were slick, but you weren’t.
My best friend looking at my kid sister like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.
Everyone saw it.” His tone spikes, harsh enough to scrape the walls.
“At Christmas, nobody was even surprised. They clapped, laughed, acted like it was sweet—while I wanted to put my fist through the wall. Because all I saw was her life being reduced to your shadow. And now here we are.”
Eden gasps, color draining from her face. My chest clamps tight, shame and rage colliding.
Leo jabs a finger into my chest. “You had no right. She was a kid, Nate. And you—” Rage has transformed him into a snarling animal. “For years, you were scheming how to make her yours.”
I snap. “Listen to yourself, Leo. The selfish bastard here is you. You stole the note she wrote me that last year before I left for training camp. You stole her choice. My choice. You cost us a decade. You had no right.”
His jaw ticks. “Damn right I did. And I’d do it again.”
Eden’s chair screeches back. “Jesus, Leo. You don’t even think that was wrong? What’s your problem?”
Leo finally looks at her. His expression flickers with guilt, then turns to steel. “I won’t apologize for protecting you. Because he would’ve ruined you. Just like he did today.”
Her chest heaves. “You don’t get to make choices for me.”
Leo’s words turn hard. “I saved you. You think he would’ve waited? You think he wouldn’t have burned you up and walked away like that bastard who broke you down did?”
“That’s it.” I step forward, chest colliding with his. “Don’t you dare. You took from both of us. And we’re not kids anymore, Leo. Eden’s not your property. You don’t get to decide for her. And it sure as hell isn’t your business who she’s with now.”
His fist knots in my shirt, yanking me close, breath hot with wrath. “Not my business? She’s my sister. And thanks to you, her reputation is on fire, her opening’s collapsing, and every asshole online is calling her unprofessional. That’s on you.”
“On me?” I shove him back a half step, fire burning through my veins. “You think I leaked the damn thing? You think I wanted this circus? All I’ve ever done is protect her.”
Leo snarls, snapping back. “Protect her? She’s already had to survive one bastard who took what wasn’t his to take. You think I’m going to sit by and watch her go through that again?”
The room goes still. Eden stiffens like she’s been struck, her face going white as bone.
My world tilts. What the fuck did he just say? This isn’t about Josh. This is something else. Something she never told me. Something that makes my stomach drop to the floor and my blood turn to ice.
“Leo.” Her whisper carries a steel edge.
My head jerks toward her. My pulse spikes. “What is he talking about?”
She doesn’t answer. Just shakes her head once, hard, her stare burning.
Leo doesn’t back down. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation, Russo. But don’t you stand here pretending you’re some goddamn hero. She’s the one who’s left with the mess.”
Leo’s punch comes out of nowhere. Fast, clean, the kind of shot I’ve seen him throw in the ring. My jaw explodes with white light, my head snapping sideways. Pain blooms sharp and hot, knees threatening to give. I stagger back, spit copper.
Rage drags me upright.
I drive forward, burying my fist in his ribs. The sound is ugly, a meaty thud, and he grunts, air rushing out. But his stance resets, eyes blazing hotter. The bastard’s built for pain.
We slam chest to chest, fists twisted in shirts, snarling. He snaps another shot at my head; I bull him sideways, shoulder to shoulder, the two of us crashing into a chair that splinters under our weight.
The room is chaos. Eden’s voice somewhere behind me, shouting—but all I see is Leo.
I lunge, land a wild hook on his shoulder. Pain jolts up my own arm. He answers with a body shot that doubles me half a step, ribs screaming. I grit my teeth, stagger back upright.
For a second, I see it in his eyes—the pro. The man trained to break other men apart. My best friend, fists like weapons, holding back. But barely.
“Enough!” Eden’s scream rips through the air.
Too late.
Leo drives forward, I surge back, and suddenly she’s between us.
My shoulder clips her, hard. She cries out, stumbling into the desk. Papers scatter, glass topples and shatters.
The sound tears me apart.
My fists drop, stomach hollowing, rage dissolving into horror. Leo freezes too, chest heaving, blood on his mouth, fists still curled but useless.
All I see is Eden, gasping, her hand pressed to her shoulder where I rammed into her.
“Eden—” I start, surging toward her, but she throws up a trembling hand, palm out.
“Don’t you dare,” she chokes. Her eyes blaze, bright with pain and betrayal. “Neither of you comes near me.”
The sight guts me. Drains the heat from my blood. Even Leo looks like someone pulled the floor out from under him.
“You both claim you’re protecting me,” she spits, voice shaking but sharp enough to cut. “Protecting me? You nearly knocked me flat because you’re too busy swinging egos to listen.” Her tears spill over, but her voice only hardens. “Instead of helping me fix this mess, you’d rather measure dicks.”
Silence drops, heavy and merciless. My fists unclench. Shame scorches hotter than any bruise.
Eden straightens, trembling but fierce, every inch of her radiating fury.
“I’m done. You want to kill each other? Do it outside.
Away from me. Both of you. Now.” Her voice is broken glass.
“Or I swear I’ll call the police. I don’t care that you’re my brother, Leo.
I don’t care that you’re my…” Her throat tightens, then steadies. “Out.”
Her words don’t waver.
And this time, neither of us argues. Looking at the woman we both love, tears running hot down her face, we obey without another word.