Page 213 of The Monster and the Masochist

“Yeah. Maybe… It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“I have that big fight tonight. The payout is enormous, and it’s been so hyped up… I’ll feel like a jackass if I back out now. Plus, I don’t want the Russian to think it’s because I’m afraid of fighting her… I don’t know. It’s stupid. Like a pride thing or something.” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, and Cal nodded, looking pensive.

“So, what if we make this your last big fight? You can kick some serious Russian butt, get your final yaya’s out, then focus on figuring out what you want to do with the rest of your life. That way, you can get closure, end your career on a high note, and start the next chapter of your life.”

He made it all sound so simple…

The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me.

“You know… you’re smarter than anyone gives you credit for, rock star.” I smirked at my brother-in-law, and he gasped in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know that Cass might have the looks, but I’m definitely the brains in this operation.”

“Tell that to her Harvard degree.” I laughed, shaking my head, and Cal’s eyes twinkled in amusement.

“So, are you heading to training or what? Need a sparring partner?”

I brightened at this.

Cal was an absolute weapon. Sparing with him was easily the best way I could train to fight someone as lethal as the Russian.

“Yeah, I’m headed there now. If you want to come, be my guest.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Muscles.” He grinned, shoving me playfully in the shoulder.

“Should we take the hearse?” he asked, and I chuckled and nodded.

“Sure, I know how much you love the hearse.”

He rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“Fuckin’ right. To the spooky mobile we go!” he chirped, and I laughed again, following him to the garage, feeling lighter than I had in years.

Cal was enthusiastically reviewing Coach’s fight plan for me while we watched some last-minute tapes of drills I’d been working on in anticipation of this fight.

I was both anxious and excited for the main event.

On the one hand, I was genuinely excited to go up against the Russian. She truly would be a real challenge for me, and I’d been busting my ass for this for years.

But on the other hand… part of me wanted to just… not even bother. I’d brushed off Cassandra’s concerns about the state of my feet when she’d asked me about it that morning… but the closer we got to the fight, the more I hated the idea of going into this with any sort of handicap.

I knew how ruthless Svetlana was. She could smell weakness a mile away, and unlike me, she didn’t have any reservations about killing her opponents.

This was the most high-stakes fight of my life, and I knew if I fucked up, it might really be over for me.

And… I realized that morning that… I didn’t want to die.

Not anymore.

I wanted to go home to my hot wife and make vegan food and play Smash Bros and then fuck her till she cried.

I wanted to maybe find a way to use what skills I had to help other people who had been through something similar to me.

Maybe I could teach people how to defend themselves from people like Samwell… Maybe I could make a real difference in this world, instead of just letting myself fade away into nothing.

I just… wanted.