“Whoa!” Brian said as he pushed off the wall. “What the fuck is your problem, Andrews?”
The right thing to do was apologize and walk it off. Too bad his Right Thing-ometer was irreparably damaged. “Maybe it’s you, Harty,” he said as he got in the man’s face.
“Or maybe you’re pissed off ‘cause you’re too much of a * to go after the girl you keep talking about till you’re blue in the balls.”
Reid’s brain went on instant standby mode as his body took over. The last thing he remembered was seeing red and shooting in at his friend’s hips, taking him down to the mats with a mighty roar to match the sound of the blood pumping in his ears. The next thing he knew there were arms everywhere peeling him off Brian and men shouting different things all at once so he couldn’t decipher anything.
“That’s enough! Break it up and hit the showers before I add a few more hours of cardio to drain the piss and vinegar outta ya’s.”
Butch. Finally a voice of reason. Reid shook off the last few hands holding him and went to gather his things.
“Andrews! In my office, now.”
Reid spun on his heel and glared at his coach. “I don’t need a lecture. Cool my heels. Got it, message received. I’m going home.”
“Hey! I don’t give a good goddamn what message you received. Get your ass in my office.”
Clenching his hands and grinding his teeth, Reid stalked into the coach’s office and dropped into one of the guest chairs. Butch followed him in, closed the door and sat in the chair next to him, leaning forward with forearms on his knees.
“What’s eatin’ you, son?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reid said as he crossed his arms. When all the old man did was stare at him, he threw an arm out in the direction of the gym. “I’m trying to focus on my fight and they wanna bust my balls about shit. They know better than that, Coach.”
“I saw what happened. You nearly took Harty’s head off with a medicine ball.”
Reid turned his head away, unable to look into the sky-blue eyes of the older man. He knew he’d acted like an ass—and he’d apologize to Brian later—but he didn’t know what to say.
“Reid.” The tone Butch used told him he’d wait there all day until Reid gave him what he wanted. With a resigned exhale he turned his attention back to his coach. “When you came back from Reno I was impressed with your physical condition. I was worried that without your normal routine you’d let yourself get soft around the middle, but ya did good and came back to us healthy as a horse and strong as an ox.
“But mentally—” Butch shook his head and tsked a few times. “Mentally you came back with a few screws loose, and I have a strong suspicion it has to do with that lady PT you were with. Am I right?”
Reid didn’t know how to respond or where to start. So he didn’t.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you what I think,” Butch said, leaning back with arms folded over his chest. “You fell in love with the Miller girl, but decided you weren’t good enough for her, so instead of telling her how you felt you probably said or did something to screw it up just before coming back here. How close am I?”
Pushing to his feet, Reid dragged his still-taped hands over his face then hooked them behind his neck. “Dead on.”
“I thought as much,” Butch said, rising from his chair. “So what’s your plan?”
Reid dropped his arms and narrowed an eye at his coach. “What makes you think I have a plan?”
“You never go up against a fight or a problem without a plan.” Butch eased a hip onto his desk and popped one of the peppermint candies he’d replaced cigarettes with into his mouth. “But if the way you’ve been acting is any indication, your plan sucks.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Just what I said. When you have faith in your plans you’re no different than you are any other day. Our plan for the fight is solid. But you’re still messed up. Ergo—”
Reid lifted an eyebrow. “Did you really just say ‘ergo’?”
“Yeah, I did, smartass—ergo, your plan sucks.”
Reid couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. He was right. When Reid had a good plan, nothing fazed him. Not the head games his opponent flung at him through the media, not an injury he knew could be dealt with after the fight, nothing.
“My plan sucks because I don’t have one. No matter how I try I can’t find a solution that makes us happy together.”
Butch rubbed his jaw as he thought about…well, whatever it was he was thinking about. “Hmm. Yeah, I can see how that would trouble you.”