Page 89 of The Knockout Rule

“Not your treatment.” He waved off her worry. “Your mood. You’ve been, I don’t know, a bit flat.”

Flat made sense, if flat meant sad and weary and heartbroken. Even now, she wanted to flop on the floor and cry like a frustrated child. Moan about how unfair it was to meet the best man, only to break up with him because he worked the worst job. Details Álvaro didn’t need to know, but she had to say something. He often opened up to her about his personal life. Being honest was the best way to explain her recent lackluster personality.

“I broke up with someone a couple months ago,” she admitted. I stabbed myself in the heart with a rusty knife. “It seems to be hitting me harder as time goes on, but it’ll pass.”

Álvaro nodded, then waggled his eyebrows. “You should date me. We’ll go to a bar. Have some drinks. I’ll help you forget your someone.”

His cockiness reminded her of Preston, which reminded her of Vegas, which reminded her of Eric talking to her through his manager, saying the perfect words because he was the perfect man for her, and it felt like an anvil pressed on her chest. Two months. Two months and this pain had gotten worse, not better.

“I’m sure you’re a blast,” she told Álvaro, forcing lightness into her voice. “But you’re a client, and I doubt your ego would fit into a bar.” That was better. Their usual snarky banter.

He grinned and smacked the counter. “There’s my girl.”

She laughed, appreciative of their growing friendship. “I’m sorry about my mood. I promise to keep my personal life out of our sessions from now on.”

“Don’t apologize. I prefer getting to know my team, and I know what it’s like being on the bad end of a breakup. Your work doesn’t suffer, and I get to tease you more this way.”

They scheduled his next appointments and he left with a smile, but Isla planted her forehead on her desk. Pathetic. She’d become a pathetic mess.

Leaving Eric had been her only choice. Since Vegas, she’d been to all her father’s doctor’s appointments. They’d found a new medication to help with his dizziness. He was doing well, but he’d shared more details about his health with her: his slight difficulty swallowing, which he’d been hiding, along with the extent of his fatigue. As promised, he no longer pushed her away. Between clients and paperwork and growing her business, she spent more time with him than she had in ages. He hadn’t been willing to go public with his illness yet, or open up to Eric or the press, but their relationship was the best it had ever been.

The only downfall of their closeness was seeing more clearly how hard his illness was on him, physically and mentally. She couldn’t date a boxer with firsthand knowledge of that challenging road. Not even a man she still loved desperately.

“Princess? You okay?”

She lifted her head, blinked at her father. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He stared at her, his usual sneer locked in place. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“the greatest lie

i ever told is

i’m fine”

Ramona Estle sure hit the nail on the head with that blatant poem. Isla twitched her nose, making sure it hadn’t grown.

Her father’s jaw flexed as he watched her, a hard stare that went on so long she stood from her desk and rounded the counter. “Is everything okay?”

He frowned, then patted his pants pockets. “Came by to say hi, but I think I forgot my credit card at the grocery store. I’ll see you later.”

He left as quickly as he’d appeared. She stared after him, too emotionally drained to say goodbye.

* * *

Eric whipped the skipping rope over his head. Faster loops, faster jumps, double-unders to work his endurance. Air hissed through his nose. The balls of his feet touched the floor briefly, tasted air for a second, before connecting again. He was nothing but his body in these moments. Muscle moving. Blood flowing. Heart pumping. The second he finished his set, he was back to being a shell of a man who didn’t know love could hurt this much.

Hardcore music pumped from the gym’s speakers. Two guys grunted in the ring. Another handful worked out around it, their fists smacking the heavy bags and speed balls. Eric tossed the rope on the floor, grabbed his towel, and dragged it down his face. This had been his life the past two months. Workouts to train his body, unending cardio to bleach his mind of memories. Sore muscles afterward, including an aching heart.

He’d known he loved Isla. She’d snuck into the small circle of people who inhabited his life. He’d welcomed her intrusion like a starving man, took what he’d wanted, even with the barriers in their way. Now he suffered.

He hadn’t known a person could leave a shadow behind. A forever memory that followed everywhere, reminding you food tasted better and poetry was lovelier and smiles were easier when she’d been around. At times, he wished they’d never met.

Graham stalked into the gym, so fast and angry, Eric stepped back.

“You.” Graham jutted his chin toward Eric. “In the office. Now.”