Chapter 14 - Jake Finally Fought Again
Jake's first fight back happened in a small arena in New Jersey.
No Reed corner credential.
Priya coached him.
I drove down.
Not because he asked.
Because I wanted to.
Jake saw me during warm-ups.
“You stalking me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked nervous.
I had rarely seen that.
“What's wrong?”
“Atlantic City.”
I understood.
His old signature win had happened nearby.
“You think people care?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
He looked at me.
“More.”
He had spent months watching clips of himself.
Not to erase wins.
To remember what was actually his.
That sounded exhausting.
“Jake.”
“What?”
“You fought Omar.”
“Yes.”
“You got a decision.”
“Yes.”
“His coach being cold didn't move your hands.”
“No.”
“But it might've changed his night.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Jake stared.
“That's all?”
“What do you want?”
“I don't know.”
“Good luck finding somebody who does.”
He laughed.
Then went out.
He lost.
Unanimous decision.
No scandal.
No question.
No hidden favor.
In the locker room afterward, Jake sat with an ice pack against his shoulder.
“Fantastic.”
I smiled.
“Congratulations.”
“I hate you.”
“You wanted something unquestionably yours.”
“Did not ask for a loss.”
“Details.”
He laughed, then winced.
Priya left to talk to medical staff.
Jake looked at me.
“You know what's weird?”
“What?”
“I’m less upset than I thought.”
“Because it was clean?”
“Maybe.”
He looked toward the floor.
“Or because losing doesn't threaten my entire identity anymore.”
I made a face.
“What?”
“That sounded like therapy.”
“I regret it.”
“Good.”
He threw a towel at me.
Later, Mason texted Jake.
Good fight. Second round was yours.
Jake showed me.
“What are you going to say?”
He typed:
Thanks.
Nothing else.
No argument.
No request for approval.
I liked that.
On the drive back, Jake asked:
“You taking Dana's contract?”
I glanced over.
“What contract?”
He smiled.
“Everyone knows.”
“Apparently privacy died.”
Dana had offered me a twelve-month coaching-and-management arrangement through her gym.
Clear terms.
No exclusive hold on outside seminars.
Separate event registration.
Everything Mason had blurred now had boxes.
I had not signed.
Jake asked:
“What's stopping you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
I looked at the highway.
“I don't want my next decision to be a reaction to Mason.”
Jake nodded.
“And staying at Reed could also be a reaction.”
“Yes.”
“So you're trapped.”
“Helpful.”
He smiled.
Then:
“You know Mason is considering giving up his controlling share.”
I turned.
“What?”
“Priya told me.”
“To who?”
“Staff group.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because the sponsor won't return while he controls registration.”
That made business sense.
Jake continued:
“Priya thinks fighters should have representation.”
“On ownership?”
“Advisory stake.”
I laughed.
“This gym is becoming a homeowners association.”
“Basically.”
Then he said:
“She wants you involved.”
I stared through the windshield.
“Of course she does.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
That was the problem.
For six years, Mason had built my path by making choices before I reached them.
May you like
Now everybody kept handing choices back.
It was much less comfortable.
