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I’m such a fucking mess,I think as I land a blow that puts the young kid on his arse just a minute into the fight. He’s panting, looking up at me with fear in his eyes, but I just ignore him.
“Who's next?” I growl, motioning for him to get out of the ring, so someone else can take his place.
Before anyone can step forward, the door to the gym slams open, the sound reverberating around the room as it crashes against the wall. I turn towards the loud noise, taking up my fighting stance as I fix my gaze on the figure stalking towards me.
Jacob is taking long, purposeful steps as he walks towards me with a fierce scowl on his face. His chocolate eyes are fixed on me, and I’m not even sure he’s aware that there’s a room full of people watching him as he storms towards me, looking pissed.
“Why are you ignoring my calls and messages, arsehole?” he shouts, not caring that the trainees in the room are all gawping at him.
“I’m busy,” I reply lazily, gesturing to the people who are all circled around the ring, watching the drama unfold.
Jacob casts his gaze around the room, finally noticing the people. Some are openly staring, wondering what is going on, while others have the good sense to look away and pretend they can’t see anything. They’re the people that will go far in this business.
“Get out.” Although Jacob doesn’t direct his introduction to anyone in particular, the volume with which he shouts it makes it clear he’s talking to everyone—except me.
A few don’t even blink before they’re scurrying off toward the changing room, whereas some remain frozen with their gaze fixed on me, waiting for my instructions.
“Get the fuck out!” Jacob yells, his face turning red as his anger seeps into his voice.
With a small head nod, I give them the permission they’re looking for to leave the room. I also make a mental note of all the people who left, knowing I’m going to have to punish them for it.
Jacob may be one of the rules of Blackthorn, but they work for me, which means my word is the only one they should follow. If anything were to happen to me after they left the room, it would be their fault for not doing their job.
No matter how intimidating someone is, they only answer to me. Their job comes before anything else, and I need to make sure they don’t forget that.
I watch as the last of the trainees exit the room; the door slamming behind them, and when I turn back around, I see Jake has climbed into the ring, and is advancing on me. He stops within arm’s reach and I freeze.
At first, his angry eyes are fixed on my face, almost like a challenge, but then he slowly drags his gaze lower. My body heats wherever he looks, almost like I can feel the hot trail that his gaze leaves over my body.
As he takes in my naked, sweaty chest, his breath hitches and his eyes darken. I drag in a ragged breath, my heart racing under the intensity of his gaze.
What was full of anger just moments before has turned into something dangerous. The lust in his eyes has the power to hurt me so much more than his anger ever could.
Seeing him this close, looking at me in this way, seems to make all the anger and tension seep out of me. My shoulders sag and I can’t help how deflated I sound as I ask, “What do you want?”
Jacob’s eyes snap up to meet mine, and I hate the care I see reflected. “What’s going on with you?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I mumble, shaking my head slowly. “I’ve been busy.”
Jacob scoffs loudly, pulling my attention back to him. “You missed our sponsor counselling session today. You never miss them.”
Although there’s no anger in his voice now, only concern, I can’t stop the shameful feeling that hits me, making my stomach roll.
When I agreed to be Jacob’s rehab sponsor, it was both the hardest and easiest decision I’ve ever made, making it by far the most confusing. He needed a sponsor who wouldn’t take any shit from him, who wouldn’t give in when he pushed them, and he knew that was me.
I said yes straight away, because I wanted to help him. I may never be able to be with Jacob, and we might have agreed not to be friends anymore, but the last few years, watching him lose himself more to drink and drugs was like a form of torture. I watched the guy I knew fizzle away, and I hated it. So when he agreed to get help, I said I’d support him.
What made it the worst decision is that I could no longer pretend he didn’t exist. I could no longer watch him from afar, pretending I don’t care about him.
I was forced to spend time with him, to be there for him whenever he needed someone, to listen to him as he worked through his demons. And as I suspected, once the old Jake came back, so did my feelings. Though it’s easier to ignore them when I remember the pain they caused.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, dropping my eyes to the floor, so he can’t see how awful I feel.
“Not good enough. Why didn’t you show up?” Jake asks, his voice more firm than chastising now.
I let out a huff, but otherwise, stay silent. Jacob takes a small step closer, and his intoxicating scent hits me, forcing me to stumble backwards. He matches my movement with one of his own, remaining close to me, and when my back hits the rope and I have nowhere to go, that’s when he stops right in front of me.
I can’t bring myself to look up, to see his expression. I know I’ve let him down, and the shame I feel will only worsen if I catch a glimpse of him. He lets out a sigh that breaks my heart.