Path To Resolution (Fighter's Den, #5)

Chapter 21 - Wolfe

This is not how I expected my first professional match to go. Physically I'm more than ready but mentally I'm not even here. Not even close. I'm too distracted by everything that's going on.

The South Bloods are giving me more jobs to do now that they realize how good I am with tracking and it's pissing me off because I haven't gotten anywhere myself. I'd thought it would take me a couple of months tops so I could get in and get out but it's been three months and still nothing. It's affecting everything in my life — my career, my relationship with Melanie, and it'll probably fuck up everything with Coach and the guys if they found out. Hell, Coach used to run the South Bloods back in his days and I know he keeps up with what they do now which is why I specifically asked Dante to keep my involvement a secret.

But that day I went to headquarters I could've sworn I saw Mitch — Coach's ex-partner when they were in South Bloods — and I'm positive he saw me. That's why I'm so on edge these days and being in the middle of this match isn't helping.

I swing my gaze toward the crowd, intimidated as fuck by the amount of people here. This may be my first professional fight but Fighter's Den has been on the map for years now so thousands of fans have shown up. A lot of the signs have names of the rest of the guys, fewer with mine, but I don't give a shit about that. I've never done well with crowds and it's taking everything out of me to not have a fucking panic attack. The constant flashes, the cameras in my face, it's all reminding me of my parents' death and I'm pretty sure I'm going to throw up.

"Emerson," I instantly recognize Coach's voice and look up as he steps inside the ring. I straighten up with my shoulders pushed back. I may be taller than Coach and admittedly have more muscle on him but that doesn't mean I don't respect the fuck out of him. When Coach commands your attention, you give it. "What the hell crawled up your ass?"

It's a valid question. I'm not exactly the most approachable person on my best day and today I'm even worse. Between my urge to just get the fuck out of here and wondering if he's figured out my secret yet I'm the last person that should be fighting today. I shrug now, not sure how to respond.

"This about your parents?" He asks in a low voice when he reaches me.

Did he have to mention them? I'd managed to put them at the back of my mind for the time being but now they're back. All day I've been thinking about the few memories I have of them. I'm not even sure if all of them are real or made up. What do I have left of them anymore?

"Your grandfather told me you don't do well with cameras," Coach sighs, running a hand through his hair. "If this was an exhibition match I could pull some strings but this is a worldwide viewing. I'm sorry, son. Nothing I can do except coach you through it. Just tune them out and focus on fighting. I'll get you out of interviewing so don't worry about speaking to reporters or any of that crap."

Fuck, I don't know why the thought of giving interviews never crossed my mind either. This is all part of the gig. There's too much going on and it's more than I can admittedly handle. This shit with the South Bloods, fighting with Melanie yesterday, especially fighting with Melanie. I don't know what the hell to do about us anymore. I can't deny how fucking hurt I felt when I realized she was hiding things from me, especially something like her uncle trying to contact her. I would kill that motherfucker in a heartbeat for her and she didn't even want to mention it? I know in the back of my mind this is how hurt she probably feels that I'm keeping secrets and it only makes me feel like a bigger asshole.

"Why are you making that face?" Coach looks pointedly at me and I try to school my expression but it's too late. He sighs now, hands going to his hips. "I know that look. Every single one of you assholes had your turn with that mopey, kicked-in-the-balls look. It's woman trouble, isn't it?"