Worth The Fight (Hard To Love Book 1) Read Online Free

take it from there.” If I didn’t respect him as much I wouldn’t listen to him, I would take all my fury out on the quivering figure in front of me but I can’t. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting Coach move me further away from Ethan. I'm just about to turn away from him, get my shit together and leave when the stupid idiot has to make a comment. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut for a few more minutes.
    “There’s always next year, I'm sure you’ll win the …” He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence when I turn and attack him. I grab the front of his shirt and push him back against the lockers behind him. I manage to connect a few good punches to his face, despite the pain shooting through my hand and up my wrist, before I'm dragged away from him. I watch with satisfaction as he crumbles to the ground with blood pouring from his face. I try to break free from the hands that are keeping me away, I want to keep going until he isn’t breathing.
    “Come on, son. That’s not gonna help your hand.” I don’t even care how much damage it does, I just need him to suffer the way I am. I want to see him in pain. I watch as two other fighters pull Ethan from the floor, helping him from the room and out of my sight. It’s safer for him that I can’t see him anymore.
    “He’s fired, Coach.” I hear Coach’s deep laugh in my ear before he replies.
    “Yeah, son. I worked that one out.”
     
     
     
     

Chapter Two
 
Zeke
     
    I clench my hand and feel the tightness in the muscles start to relax a little. My cast was taken off nineteen days ago, and after six fucking long weeks I was ecstatic. I’ve been working flat out to improve the mobility since it was removed, and the hand may be getting better but my anger towards the injury hasn’t. When I went to the hospital after the disastrous fight, the x-ray showed that I’d fractured three bones, which had proved my claim that my tapes were nowhere near tight enough. I pick up the tension ball again and squeeze it with all the power I can manage, imagining that it’s Ethan’s head in between my fingers. It worried me initially how weak my hand was, I couldn’t believe I’d gone from being able to punch a bag for hours at a time to barely being able to last five minutes with this silly little ball. I'm starting to feel more confident now that I can actually feel my strength coming back and I’ve even managed to take a few punches at the bag, not that I've told Coach that. Even with the progress I'm making, I still need to make sure that with every day that passes I don’t give in to the sense of dread that festers in my stomach. I shake my head at my own dramatics, I swear if the guys around could hear my inner thoughts, they would tie me to the punch bag and use me for boxing practice.
    “Zeke, my man. How’s it hanging?” I turn towards the voice and smile at Jason, watching him as he enters the ring I'm sitting next to. I feel a pinch of jealousy as I watch him tape up his hands, ready to spar with his trainer, Angus. I haven’t been in the ring since I was injured, and I miss it so fucking badly. He hits the pads Angus’s holding up a few times before walking towards me and leans on the ropes next to me.
    “I'm good.” I look down to my hand that’s still clutching onto the strength-training ball and laugh. “Okay, maybe not good but I suppose it could be worse.” He gives me a sympathetic look before pushing himself off the ropes and standing up straight.
    “Yeah, I suppose. It’s not like you lost the biggest fight of your life and broke your hand or anything.” Jason smirks, walking over to Angus and starts punching the pads again. I drop the ball to the bench I'm sitting on and stand, stretching out my back.
    “Hey, Jason. You know what I can still do?” I wait until he stops sparring and looks at me. When he does I raise the middle finger of my damaged hand before turning around and walking away. His