“Ice water, if you have it,” I said to the bartender.

“Would you like it in a glass with lemon?” she asked.

This place.

“I’ll just take the bottle.”

“Water?” Fairchild scowled. “Live a little, man.”

I accepted the ice-cold blue glass bottle of water the bartender offered me. “I’m responsible for getting Parker home safely. And I don’t drink and drive.”

Wrong thing to say. His scowl turned on Parker as if it were her fault I wasn’t chugging down a beer with him, and she visibly stiffened.

“Plus,” I added, “I’m teaching a class early tomorrow and I like to stay in top form.” Absolute bullshit. Not the class, but a beer wouldn’t hurt. Fairchild didn’t need to know that, though.

He perked up. “You’re teaching classes? Boxing?”

“Tomorrow is kickboxing, but, yeah, we do boxing classes as well.” I took a sip of the water. Jesus. It actually tasted better than usual water. “My gym, Lights Out, offers all sorts of classes. You should stop by. I could hook you up with a private instructor.”

And then you can show your appreciation by becoming our sponsor.

He hummed. “Maybe I will. But you shouldn’t be teaching classes. You should be in the ring. Would you consider fighting again?”

My gut turned to lead and my throat closed. I wasn’t on some fancy yacht anymore. I was sitting on the hard-plastic chair that cut into my thighs and put a kink in my back. The same chair I sat in for three days straight, waiting in vain for Jake to wake up. Sitting there as the doctor told us Jake was brain-dead. Sitting there, watching as Marcy decided to pull the plug, that Jake wouldn’t want to be left in a bed like that.

It was the day I found out my dad had lost almost all my savings on a bet that had Jake winning with a KO in the eighth round. He’d been knocked out in the seventh. Never to rise again.

Bile burned up my throat, and I swallowed convulsively. I was going to be sick. All over Fairchild’s purple and gold slippers.

A smooth, slim hand slipped into my loose grasp and squeezed.

Parker.

I blinked down at her, confused, and she smiled up at me, all bright and sunny.

“Rhys once told me it was best to tap out on top,” she told Fairchild.

Lies. But also true.

I licked my dry lips. “True. My time in the ring is over.”

Fairchild frowned but nodded with clear reluctance. An awkward tension had settled over us and I couldn’t find a way to cut it. Parker, on the other hand, glanced around the boat and then turned back to Fairchild. “This is a beautiful craft, Mr. Fairchild. Am I mistaken or are those solar panels you have there?”