The Hardest Hit (3 page)

Trevor had enjoyed the early morning ride down to Radiology. He sat still, holding his breath through all of his scans. The radiologist told him that it was common to get the easier cases out of the way in the morning, and that filled him with hope that Dr. Fox was eager to let him go. By ten a.m. he received word that the good doctor wanted to see him before giving him the all-clear.

His insides stirred. He wouldn't miss much about his hospital stay. The food turned his stomach. The frequent beeps and squawks of the different machines kept him up at night. And he surely wouldn't miss being woken up by nurses wanting to take his vitals. Trevor would, however, miss one thing about Sunrise Medical Hospital.

Dr. Fox.

Meeting her had been the best thing about his stay. She'd cared about her job, about him. He hadn't felt that in a long, long time. He probably came on too strong. If he did, he could blame it on the hits to the head. Punch drunk, he'd say. He allowed his mouth to get away from him. Truth was Dr. Fox was looking out for him the way no one else had. He appreciated that.

Maybe he could've toned down the flirting, but he'd love nothing more than a shot with the tall, sexy woman. Too bad it wasn't in the cards.

While he was down in Radiology with his head stuck in a machine, Daniella had left clothes for him. He dressed and waited for the all-clear, planning to call his trainer to catch a ride home. He didn't need to glance around the room to know how alone he was. How alone he'd always been. Waiting alone to be released from the hospital made his situation blatantly clear. He needed someone to share his life with—someone like Dr. Fox.

His heart lifted when she appeared in his doorway.

“Looks like you're good to go. For now.” She flashed him a stern glance. “I want to see you again.”

“I knew you'd come around,” he teased.

She chuckled under her breath. “For a follow-up visit. One week from today in my office. I have my own practice.” She handed him a card. She had her own practice. Of course she did. He glanced down at the paper rectangle he held. The Fox Medical building. He should've known by her last name. With his head hurting like a bitch he hadn't put two and two together. “You're one of those Foxes.”

She nodded. “I am. Makes me less appealing, doesn't it.”

“Not at all. Beautiful. Sexy and rich. What's not to like?”

Anyone who didn't grow up in Vegas wouldn't have known just how deep ties to the Fox family ran in the city. As a family of doctors, they sponsored golf tournaments, fun runs, and charity events, all of which were way outside his league. She probably slept on a mattress made of hundred-dollar bills.

“Your dad is the famous surgeon?”

She nodded again. “Yes, and my mom is the head of Cardiology here at Sunrise. My brother is a psychiatrist. My sister has her own obstetrics practice.” She motioned to the card. Medicine was a family affair. “But they are not what's important,” she continued, “you are.”

He felt his eyebrows rise. “Lucky me.”

She took a few steps closer to him, probably too close to be considered professional, but then again, she was his doctor. And, well, he wouldn't hesitate to get naked on her orders.

“Listen to me.” Her eyes locked on his. “No training. No running. No hits. I want to take things slow.”

“I can go as slow as you want me to.” Sexual undertones lined his voice.

She grinned. “I meant with your recovery.”

He lifted his hand and scrubbed it along his jawline. “Somehow I don't think you're talking about my care.”

She batted her blue eyes. “I'll take a look at your scans once I receive them, and I'll be in touch.”

“Now that's pretty cool. You'll be looking at my mind, knowing you're on it.” Okay. Even he had to admit that was cheesy. At least she laughed.

“I'm going to miss you. You definitely add a spark to my day, Mr. Redding.”

“You know where to find me when you start missing me too much.”

She handed him his discharge paperwork. “Yes, I do.”

He looked at the papers, then back at her, knowing this was the end of whatever was going on between them. Shameless flirting. A means to pass the time. Or, was it something else? Did she feel the kind of chemistry he did? Did he send her skin on fire with every touch, like she did his? There was only one way to find out.

“Thanks for everything,” he said and brushed his lips against hers, unable to hold back. Quick. Dangerous. Sexy. She tasted good and sweet, like strawberries. Temptation was too strong to resist.

Pulling away, her eyes widened. He knew he was in trouble. But God, didn't that kiss tell her something? Didn't she feel the electricity flowing between them? She belonged with him; she just didn't know it yet. Unable to speak, she placed her hand over her mouth.

“One week, Doc,” he said unapologetically. “See you then.”

He left her standing in his room, speechless, his taste still fresh on her lips. Maybe the little kiss would hold him over until his next appointment. Maybe once she regained her wits she'd bitch at him for acting on impulse. Or maybe, if he was lucky, she'd want another taste. In a week, he was sure to find out.

A day passed before Trevor walked into Stamina gym. He'd wanted to go see the guys when his trainer picked him up, but she shot down his idea as quickly as he'd mentioned how he missed stepping into the ring. He made a deal with her. If she'd let him come to Stamina, watch, supervise some of the newer fighters she was thinking about taking on, he'd obey his doctor's orders. He promised to wait against the ropes and stay out of harm's way.

They shook on their agreement.

He spent most of his time watching the sparring. Anxiety welled inside him. He wanted in the ring, just like any other fighter would. He felt like a jet on the runway waiting for takeoff. Just looking at the guys throwing the left hook and right cross gnawed at him. God, he wanted to battle it out himself.

On his first day back, he stayed late to watch Jack Brady spar Mike Perez. Those two boxers worked each other hard, sweat poured and they banged each other, glove on glove. Of all the guys in the gym they had a relationship based on a friendship, a brotherhood and mutual respect. Watching them box was artistic. Beautiful, like a strange dance. Brady and Perez took the sport to a new level.

An ache moved through his chest. While Trevor was one of Stamina's guys, he didn't have the close connections to Jack and Mike like the rest of the team.

No matter how much they included him he felt like an outsider. Always labelled the oddball, the jokester, the kid; and maybe he was. He reasoned that he didn't fit in as well as the other guys because he spent half his time at the club. Chantel and the girls had replaced the family he didn't have. But his hospital stay had taught him something: He was just as much as an outsider at the club, too.

He'd taken hits for them. He'd done his job and found himself lying in a hospital bed, and where were they?

Busy.

Tammy had called. Brooke left on vacation. Rocki and Charley took a weekend gig at a strip club in Reno and didn't come back. Chantel came to visit him. Once. He'd thought that after all these years the girls would be there for him. Like sisters. He thought wrong.

His feelings toward them had been one-sided. He saw that now.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, then delivered a few hard pats to his back. He turned. Beside him stood Abraham Shakes, assistant trainer and best cut man in Las Vegas. Trevor smiled at the old guy. Everyone loved him, Trevor included.

“Good to have you back, kid.” Shakes smiled proudly at Trevor. “You gave us quite a fright.”

“Good to be back, Shakes. What's been going on around here?” He glanced around the gym.

“Same old thing.” Shakes passed his hand through the air, waving off Trevor's words. “Boxing doesn't change. Only the fighters do.” He chuckled. “We've seen some new talent pass through the doors, but nothing compared to you, kid.”

Trevor smiled. He knew he had both talent and heart.

“Just get better so we can get you back in that ring,” Shakes said. “We've got big news. Daniella's got a card scheduled for you.”

Trevor's mouth dropped open as Shakes continued, “Well, don't just stand there waiting on a fly to buzz in, say something.”

His mouth pulled up at the corners. Sliding a hand in the pocket of his jeans, he said, “When did this happen? Why didn't she tell me?”

A rush of air left Shakes's nostrils. “Kids today. They expect to know everything the minute it happens.” He gave a shake of his head. “She didn't want to pressure you during your recovery. Plus, Nash's people heard about your accident. Daniella put them on hold to wait for news of your progress. Since your release, she was able to nail down the details. All we need is the clearance from your doctor to start training.”

His heart thrummed in his chest. “Nash. Wait, do you mean Dion Nash, the Olympic gold medalist?”

Shakes stuck out his hand. “Yep. He's decided to turn pro, and wants you as his first professional contender.”

Nearly speechless, Trevor grabbed Shakes's hand and pulled him into a hug. “Oh my God. This is . . .”

Shakes smiled. “An opportunity of a lifetime, I know, I know. With Nash's name recognition and following, fighting him will bring you a lot of fans. It's your big break, kid. Congratulations.”

Drawing in a breath, his lungs filled to full capacity. So this was what it felt like. Finally, he'd gotten something he'd trained for, prayed for. All his hard work had paid off.

“I want to start you off slow by rebuilding the stamina and endurance you've lost while you've been out of commission.” Shakes's brow furrowed. “When do you see that doctor of yours?”

“Next week.” Trevor's gaze traveled over to the heavy bag. God, he couldn't wait to get back to his training. He missed the feel of the gloves on his hands, the dampness of sweat on his skin. Just standing in the gym, taking in the smell of hard work and being unable to join in was killing him.

Shakes's hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Sounds good. I'm looking forward to you getting back in the ring.”

Trevor nodded. “Me too, Shakes. Me too.”

***

After the gym closed for the evening Trevor walked to his apartment. Usually he drove, but the crisp evening air lured him down the street. Still reeling from the big news, walking helped to release his nervous energy. The idea of going up against a guy like Dion Nash fueled his desire to start training again, with or without his doctor's approval.

But, he'd made a deal with Daniella, and if she'd gone to bat for him and landed a contender like Nash, he didn't want to fuck things up by training when he shouldn't. His hand closed in a fist. Excitement poured through him. He could hardly contain himself.

Reaching his home, he knew the first thing he should do: Study Nash. He let himself in and made his way across the small living space to his television. His apartment might not be much, but what little money he had, he'd invested in a sweet home theater setup. DVR. Surround sound. The works.

Dropping down on the sofa, he kicked back and sunk into his comfortable spot. Remote in hand, he searched for a replay of Nash's Olympic fight. He saved most matches on his DVR because, in boxing, he'd seen old tapes come in handy for fighters time and time again. After a bit of scrolling, there he was. Dion Nash. One hundred and eighty pounds of muscle appeared on the screen. With a seventy-two-inch reach, the dark-headed Georgia boy threw a mean uppercut. He liked to dig in close to his opponent. Fighting close in early rounds meant Nash reserved his energy to use toward the end of the match. It was a tactic younger boxers used to make sure they didn't run out of steam.

Trevor had surpassed all that. He'd hate to be the one to make a name for knocking the hell out of an Olympic favorite, but if that's what it took to launch his professional boxing career into the stratosphere, he wouldn't hesitate.

His eyes followed Nash onscreen. His brain recorded every move, every punch. He sat through four rounds, watching Nash not only take abuse, but also deliver one hell of a beating. Then, at the start of the fifth round, the scorecard flashed across the screen.

Trevor cocked his head to the side. Something didn't add up. Sure, Nash gave a gold-medal performance, but even under the traditional scoring system, his score shouldn't have been that high, should it? He didn't remember Nash throwing so many head shots, the kinds that earned real points on the card. Didn't he stick his punches close to the body?

Trevor lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes. He stretched his mind back to round one. Damn. He couldn't remember who'd won that round. Was it Nash or the guy from . . . Wait. He lifted his eyes to the screen. He didn't remember what country Nash's opponent was from, much less the guy's name.

Trevor shook his head. Didn't he just watch this freaking fight? What was going on? He let out a sigh. Spending a whole day at the gym must've taken more out of him than he thought. Tiredness clouded his mind. Fogginess engulfed his brain. His lapse in memory was nothing a good eight-hour snooze couldn't solve. He'd probably overdone it. Started doing too much too fast. That was all.

No biggie.

Trevor pointed the remote toward the television and darkened the screen. He'd rewatch the fight in the morning with fresh eyes and a pen and paper. He'd take notes. That'd help him remember things until he felt back to normal.

His stomach growled. On the ride home from the hospital he remembered there was zero food, not even a frozen pizza, in his kitchen. Now, as he contemplated Chinese takeout or burgers, he searched around his apartment for his keys. He just had them. He'd used the key to let himself in. He looked in the kitchen, under a pile of unopened mail. Then, he strolled back to the bedroom. Wait. Why would he go there? He hadn't been to his bedroom since he'd gotten home. Pounding throbbed through his skull. Then, as he walked back toward the sofa, he spied his keys on the table by the sofa. He left them in the same spot he always did.

Trevor gave a shake of his head. Something wasn't right. At times he felt like he was going crazy. He popped the top on a bottle of pain reliever and downed a few tablets. Some ibuprofen, dinner, and a good night's sleep, that's what he needed. The rest would take care of itself.