“Fuck you,” I said, shaking his hand. I’d fought him before, when I was fighting regularly, and won.
The bell rang.
I came out swinging, all rage and no control. Jameson slipped my first punch easily then countered with a jab that snapped my head back. The crowd cheered.
Everything blurred together after that, pain and blood and the sick satisfaction of my fist connecting with flesh. He was better than me now—faster, more technical, definitely not drunk off his ass.
He dropped me twice. I got back up both times, vision swimming, ears ringing.
Somewhere in the chaos, I heard Declan yelling. The ref asked if I wanted to stop.
Fuck no.
Jameson caught me with a hook that sent me sprawling. This time, I didn’t get up fast enough. The ref called it.
I lay on the canvas, blood in my mouth, and felt nothing—no relief, no catharsis, just the same hollowness in my chest since I made Eva cry earlier tonight.
Hands hauled me up. Someone pressed a towel to myface and helped me out of the ring. The next fighters were already climbing in.
I stumbled to the locker room—or tried to. I made it halfway before my legs gave out.
“Jesus Christ, Carter.” Declan caught me, his expression grim. “Sit. Don’t move.”
“Carter’s my dad,” I muttered, sinking down to the floor where he left me.
Declan disappeared. I sat on the floor with blood drying on my face, my hands shaking and Eva’s tears playing on repeat in my head.
“Who do you need me to call, kiddo?” I didn’t know if Tristan had dropped her off yet, if he was back at the house.
Didn’t fucking matter.
I couldn’t keep doing this.
“Give me my phone,” I rasped. A moment later, Declan crouched in front of me, flashing a light into my eyes, then handed me my phone.
I swallowed hard before gathering my courage.
He answered on the second ring. “Cole?”
“I fucked up,” I said, my voice breaking. “I drank. At the gala. I was sober and then I—I saw her with Tristan, and I couldn’t?—”
“Where are you?” Alek’s voice was a lifeline—calm, controlled, not taking any shit.
“Declan Flannigan’s fight club,” I said.
“Why are you calling me?” he asked.
“Because—” Fuck, this was hard. “Because you’re the only person who knows everything.” About what we’d done to Eva. About my addiction. “I?—”
He waited on the other end of the line.
“I need help,” I finally admitted.
“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Alek said. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”
He hung up. I dropped my head between my knees and stared at the floor, dreading the confrontation about to come but knowing it was about fucking time.
Wait.