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L uca was from the wrong side of the tracks. He knew the score—women on the right side of the tracks didn’t want men like him. He learned at a young age that people could very easily disappoint you. It was a hard lesson to learn, but a necessary one.

Another lesson he learned was that people might disappoint him, but fighting never did. He started off as a street fighter when he was about fifteen—not because he enjoyed it, but out of necessity. The kids in his neighborhood’s favorite pastime seemed to be picking a fight with him. learned to throw a punch instead of taking one. He learned to cover up his bruises so that his foster parents didn’t give him any shit since that seemed to be their favorite thing to do.

His parents died in a robbery gone wrong when he was only six. That’s when he started floating from foster family to foster family. They usually found a good reason to kick him out. Of course, the fighting didn’t help his case, but defending himself wasn’t something he’d stop doing—not even to stay in one of the crappy foster homes. He never found the families worth staying with, so it never mattered to him that they’d pack up his shit and have him sit on the porch to wait for his social worker to show up and cart him off to a new home. None of them ever felt like home to him, and none of the families ever felt like his family.

When he was eighteen, he aged out of the system and found himself on the streets, fighting to earn enough money to eat. He’d find underground bouts and put his name in. Sometimes, he didn’t get picked, but when he did, he’d earn enough to eat for a few days, and that left him wanting more. He started to dream of finding a place to live—his own place. That was something that he never had. He really didn’t remember his mom and dad, or the house he lived in until he was six. He never had any safety or security, and that was something he started to crave.

He found bigger fights, and put his name in, hoping to make enough cash to eventually rent a place. It didn’t take long either. started to build a name for himself and within six months of nightly fights, he had enough to rent a little one-bedroom apartment, buy a new bed, and a television. It was the first time that he had either and damn if he didn’t feel proud of himself. The sense of accomplishment was worth the bruises, cuts, and even broken bones.

couldn’t stop whether he wanted to or not. He was hooked and when a boxing promoter showed up at one of his cage matches, he was offered the chance of a lifetime.

His new promoter, Jonesy, made him an offer that he couldn’t say no to, and signed on the dotted line, hopefully securing his future. He started making more money than he ever dreamed possible. His home got bigger, along with his bank account and for the first time in his life, he moved over to the right side of the tracks—and he felt no different. It was odd that thought that he’d feel different when he moved to his new home, but he did. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he’d forget his past, but it seemed to follow him wherever he lived.

joined a gym to train for his fights, which Jonesy recommended. Apparently, it was where he sent all his fighters. Sure, he felt completely out of place and out of his element, he had met some pretty great guys. They all liked to hang out together, and for the first time in his life, he had friends. Real friends.

Hitting the showers early wasn’t something that he usually did. If Jonesy found out that he was cutting out before the end of the day, he’d have his balls, but had no choice. He had gotten a call from one of his former foster “sisters” and she said that she needed his help. Sophia was the only person from his past that he’d ever consider helping. They were put in the same foster home for three months when he was seventeen. It was the last home that he had lived in before he was tossed out onto the street. She was only sixteen, but for a kid in the system, she was a good girl. He liked to tease her that she was a saint, and he was a devil, but Sophia always insisted that wasn’t the case—but he knew better. She was lucky that they had only spent a short amount of time together or he would have probably corrupted her in some way. He never really thought about Sophia as a sister, but she was his friend, and that counted for something since he really didn’t have many of them.

He and Sophia kept in touch over the last ten years but hadn’t seen each other since he aged out of the system. She kept him up to date on her life while away at college, and even though her new world felt foreign to him, he loved hearing about her adventures. never really shared much about his life back then because telling Sophia that he was living on the streets and fighting to make food money wasn’t something that he could tell her.

“You’re leaving early,” Tony said. He had walked into the locker room while was getting dressed and started to strip. Tony was one of the older guys at the gym. He was still fighting, but mostly just one or two big bouts a year. He knew that the guy didn’t need the money, but most guys stayed in the business after they had made it. Boxing was in their blood, and he couldn’t ever see himself quitting.

“You have a hot date or something?” He really didn’t date while he was training. Jonesy insisted that sex wasn’t allowed, so he didn’t bother. He wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, and with sex off the table, he didn’t see the point.

“No,” he said, giving no further explanation.

“That’s it? Just no,” Tony said.

“Who has a date?” Rocco asked, walking into the locker room. groaned, knowing that he might never get out of there now. His friend Rocco started training at the gym about the same time that he had. Jonesy was his promoter too. Hell, the guy had most of the fighters at the gym under contract.

“No one has a date,” practically shouted making both guys laugh.

“Yeah, you don’t sound like a guy who doesn’t have a date, man,” Tony insisted.

“Don’t you have a wife and kids to get back home to?” He asked pointing at Tony. Most of the guys were bachelors, but Tony had met his wife, Aurora about five years prior, and they were popping out kids faster than could keep track of.

“Aurora doesn’t keep me on a leash,” Tony said. “So, to answer your question, no, I don’t have to get home to my wife and kids. And I definitely have time to give you some shit, because you are clearly trying to dodge my questions.” Tony was like a dog with a bone. He was notorious for his determination and telling him no usually ended with him pushing harder for answers.

“I’d like to know the answers to Tony’s questions too,” Rocco said, smiling over at him.

“Fine, if you have to know, I’m going to visit a friend,” admitted, hoping that would be enough information to keep Tony happy. But from his friend’s shit-eating grin, he was wrong.

“A man friend or a woman friend?” Tony asked.

“That’s none of your business,” insisted.

“Okay, so a woman friend,” Rocco teased. “But it’s not a date?” he asked.

“Not a date,” repeated. He grabbed his gym bag from the bench and started for the door.

“Well, have a good time with your woman friend on your—what’s the opposite of a date?” Tony asked.

“Assholes,” called back over his shoulder, flipping Tony and Rocco the bird. He left the gym to a chorus of laughter, and he had a pretty good feeling that he hadn’t heard the last of the subject from his so-called friends. But he’d worry about having to deal with them later. Right now, he needed to drive across town for his meeting, and he was already late. just hoped that whatever Sophia needed, he’d be able to help her out because there was no way that he would have ever survived his last year in foster care without her.