Unbroken (Fighter Erotic Romance #4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to high heaven. Have you got clean clothes on that bike of yours?” he asked.
    I stood from the couch and lifted the neck of my tee shirt to my nose, “Sure don’t boss. I have a bag strapped to it, but everything’s dirty.”
    “Well, I have sweats and a tee shirt might fit you. Shirt will be a little tight, but it’s clean. Let me get ‘em,” he said as he turned toward the hallway.
    He had not yet asked about the fight. Although I imagine it was on the top of the list of things he wished to discuss, he didn’t bring it up. Standing in the house with him now, I felt as if I let him down. Kelsey’s life had been devoted to training boxers. The dream of every trainer is no different than the dream of every boxer – to make it to some form of championship fight. To make it to the Heavyweight Championship of the World is the equivalent of winning the World Series or the Super Bowl. To have something so deeply desired within his reach, and take it from his grasp was inconsiderate of me as well.
    I suppose we never truly know how we’ll react to a given situation until it presents itself. In this particular circumstance, I sure seemed to make an absolute ass of myself. From an outsider’s view looking in, I would be perceived as an insensitive, self-centered, selfish, inconsiderate asshole. In recalling where I’d been for the last six weeks and what I’d gone through – without any form of contact with my friends and family – I’d have to say I agree. To describe myself as selfish would be an understatement.
    Kelsey walked out into the living room with his arms full of bedding and clothes.
    “Making a place to stay in here will be much easier than cleaning out one of the rooms. You can sleep on the couch,” he said as he dumped the contents onto the cushion beside me.
    “Here’s pillows, sheets, sweats, a tee shirt, and a pair of boxers. Don’t bitch,” he paused.
    “The skivvies are new, not used,” he chuckled as he dropped them beside me.
    “Thanks boss,” I said as I looked down at the pile he had dropped.
    “And there’s a clean razor in the bathroom on the sink. Shaving cream is under the sink. You need to shave, kid. You look like hell,” he grinned as he rubbed his face with his fingertips.
    I tilted my head his direction and attempted to smile. Feeling rather embarrassed regarding everything, I grabbed the sweats and boxer shorts and slowly walked toward the bathroom. A shower should relax me and allow me to think for the rest of the night with a clear mind. The eight hour ride from Anthony to Austin was far from relaxing, and I needed to wash the road tar, bugs, and six weeks of sorrow from my skin.
    After shaving and taking a long hot shower, I felt revived and full of guilt. As if the soap and water washed the feelings of sorrow and misery away, I was left standing cleansed and filled with shame. In walking into the living room, I noticed Kelsey had taken the time to convert the couch into his best representation of a bed.
    Tired and regretful for everything I had done, I lowered myself to the couch, pressed my head into the pillow, and immediately fell asleep.
    The referee held our hands at our sides as the sound from the overhead speaker wailed noise I wasn’t able to comprehend.
    I could feel the crowd chanting, but wasn’t able to understand the meaning behind their repeated screams.
    The echo from the overhead speaker caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise.
    The crowd went silent.
    And the winner…by knockout…and still the Heavyweight Champion of the World - Tyson Tick-Tock Brock. Sharply, I felt the referee tug the hand of the man standing beside me into the air. Embarrassed, I turned to face the crowd. One side of the arena was filled with unfamiliar faces – the friends and family of my opponent. I turned to the other side of the arena and blinked my eyes.
    Empty.
    Completely empty.
    I sat up on the couch and wiped the sweat from my face. The dream seemed very