Going the Distance (No Excuses Book 1)

by Mila Rossi

  “I gave you a glimpse into the life you missed out on, Trent, but I don’t know why I bothered. I was right the first time we met. You really are an asshole.”

  He thought he’d been stunned before, but now he really didn’t know what to say. She stared up at him with hardened eyes and he wondered how he could have been such an ass.

  “With each day and night we spent together, I got to know and like you more. You restored my faith in humanity again, but what the fuck do I know?” she said so quietly, he had to strain to hear. He lowered his arms, not sure what to do.

  She pressed her lips together, nodded as if coming to some sort of decision, and turned to go.

  “Sam, wait!” He ran after her.

  She didn’t and only stopped when he grabbed her arm to spin her around.

  “What?” she snapped at him.

  He frowned and let out a loud sigh. “Look, I don’t know how to do this. I’m no good for you. You deserve someone who can take care of you.”

  She gave a mirthless laugh. “Take care of me? I grew up in a house run by junkies, Trent. From the time I learned how to read, my parents were getting high. We had dealers coming in and out of the house, harassing me and making me hide in whatever corners I could hide in. I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself.”

  He stared at her in shock.

  “Go back to your fan club, Punisher. That’s where you’re really needed.”

  She snatched her arm out of his grip, unlocked her car and got in. He stood on the sidewalk and watched her speed off without another glance at him.

  Chapter 11

  A week had gone by since Sam had walked out on Trent, and during that time, she’d written her article, minus the few missing questions, and become somewhat of an overnight sensation for getting Trent “The Punisher” Page to talk. Her boss was over the moon with her work, and as a result of the article and the publicity it received, the newspaper was doing better than ever. Sam’s job was secure and so was the paper’s future. At least for the time being.

  Despite the argument they’d had the last time Sam had spoken to Trent, she hadn’t let her personal feelings cloud her writing. She owed it to her readers and his fans to present an unbiased yet truthful article about the champion who’d fallen from the top.

  The feedback she’d received from everyone had been positive and she was pleased with the results herself. Her intention hadn’t been to make him seem like a jerk, but like the brutally honest yet dedicated athlete that he was. Now the world knew a little bit more about him, whether he liked it or not.

  To celebrate her success, Clare and Danielle had taken her out, and Hank and Adele had invited her over for dinner. Everyone had been more than nice to her, and yet she felt like she didn’t want all the attention and simply needed to get away from everything to be able to breathe.

  Now she knew how Trent must have felt the night of his loss, except that he’d had a real reason to want to escape. She couldn’t imagine dealing with such a personal situation so publicly. He had treated her like a jerk, but she still respected his ability to live his life with the rest of the world watching him.

  Once her night out with the girls and dinner with her neighbors was taken care of, she decided to make herself unavailable for anything else. The last few weeks had drained her and she needed a break. And yet, there was something she still had to deal with.

  She hadn’t heard from her parents and was sick and tired of waiting for the shoe to drop. Uncle Roy had said they were clean, were doing good and simply wanted to talk to Sam, but she hadn’t dared hope that it was true. Too many times the opposite had been the case, and she was now scared and cynical to even hope.

  Because of that, she hadn’t called them. She was afraid that it was once again a false alarm, that they’d be sober for a few days, maybe weeks or even months, and then spiral out of control again. And where would she be then? Devastated once again that nothing was as she wished it to be.

  Having dealt with Trent was exhausting enough. Could she deal with her parents now too? Her relationship with them had been nothing but an emotional rollercoaster for as long as she could remember, and she didn’t have it in her anymore to be let down again. That’s why her business with Trent had been so disappointing.

  She’d meant what she’d said about having him restore her faith in people, as corny as that had sounded. She’d met him when he’d been full of himself and disrespectful to everyone around him. And slowly, she’d seen him change. She hadn’t expected it to happen, but it had been nice and welcoming. It had given her hope again. Hope that people could change even when she least expected them to.

  And then, out of nowhere, he’d reverted back to his old ways and she’d felt like all those times she’d been let down by her parents, only this time, it had been by the only guy she’d ever cared for. She wasn’t a lovesick little girl, thank God, she was too cynical for that, but she did like Trent, which is why her disappointment felt like a massive weight in her stomach, dragging her down. She wondered if the change she’d seen in him had just been a figment of her imagination, wishful thinking on her part. Maybe he’d been the same Trent she’d met at the club and she’d let her infatuation cloud her mind.

  Now she would find out if her emotions once again got the best of her or if her parents really were turning into the people she hoped they would become.

  She picked up the phone with a heavy heart and scrolled through her contact list until their number popped up. Her heart beat quickly and the room seemed suddenly very warm.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then stared down at the phone screen again. She pressed the button and the phone started to ring. Her pulse was competing with the volume of the phone.

  “Hello?” her mother said on the other end of the line.

  Sam swallowed, nervous to be hearing the familiar voice again. “Hi Mom, it’s me.”

  There was a brief silence on the phone before she heard her mother’s voice crack, followed by a few loud sobs. Sam felt her own eyes become teary and she admonished herself for not being able to keep it together. If this turned out to be a terrible mistake, she’d be bawling even more.

  “My neighbors told me you stopped by,” she said, hoping her voice sounded sturdy.

  Her mother yelled at her father for some tissues, then blew her nose loudly into the phone. “I did, honey. I did. I’m sorry that I showed up unannounced, but I was afraid that if you knew I was coming, you’d refuse to see me. Guess the joke was on me since you weren’t home.”

  Sam nodded as if her mother could see her.

  “Why’d you come?” she blurted out, needing to come straight to the point and not beat around the bush. She realized she sounded rude, but she might as well get it out in the open.

  “We’ve missed you, Sam. We want to see you.”

  “So did Dad come with you?”

  “No, honey, it was just me.”

  The statement stung, despite Sam’s intention to stay detached.

  “It was hard for your dad to stay home, but harder for him to come.”

  Sam bit her tongue, not wanting to blurt out that her entire life had been hard because of them. Now was not the time to say so, and definitely not over the phone.

  “Uncle Roy said he gave you my number,” she said instead, trying to stay on neutral ground.

  “He did, but only after much pleading from us.”

  Well, that was something at least.

  “I hope you don’t mind that he did, Sam, but we’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long, we just wanted to wait for a good time.”

  “And now’s a good time?” Sam asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. It might be a good time for them, but what about her? Did they ever consider whether it was a good time for her? Did they ask her uncle if she was in a good place and whether she was ready to see them again? Or did they just decide that now was a good time for them and her feelings be damned?

  She
took a steadying breath and released it quietly. If she didn’t soften her grip on the phone, it would break apart in her hand.

  “I’m hoping that now’s a good time, yes,” her mother replied. “Hold on, Sam, your dad wants to talk to you.”

  Before Sam could get a word in, the phone was handed over and her father’s voice greeted her.

  “How you doing, Sam?”

  He sounded older and something else. Calmer maybe? Not as paranoid or excited as he’d been when he was high.

  “I’m fine, Dad. How are you?”

  “Good, real good, Sam.”

  A long pause followed, during which Sam tried to think of something to say. Anything to fill the quiet, but all the thoughts that were racing through her head would somehow not verbalize and leave her lips.

  “We miss you, Sam,” her father finally broke the silence.

  She didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Your mother and I wanna come see you real soon, whenever you got time,” he continued.

  “Okay,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll let you know what day works for me.”

  “We’ll work around your schedule,” her mother called out in the background.

  “I gotta go, Dad. Say bye to Mom,” Sam said, not wanting to prolong the call. This was as much as she could take right now.

  “Bye Sam,” her parents said in unison before she hung up the phone.

  Hearing their voices after such a long time had brought back all sorts of memories that she wasn’t prepared for. She felt light-headed and plopped down on the couch.

  Dealing with Trent had been one disaster, but speaking to her parents again made her knees buckle. Suddenly she felt like her ten-year-old self again, scared shitless and unsure. Gone was the Sam she’d grown into, the one with a spine of steel and the guts to slap The Punisher in the face.

  Now she simply felt like she’d break into a million pieces if someone were to touch her.

  ***

  Trent had just finished his first session with the sports psychologist, and he had to admit that it hadn’t been the end of the world. The exercises the guy had him do weren’t a big deal and Trent just had to keep practicing to train his mind to perform at optimum level.

  He wasn’t suddenly a new fighter after a one hour session with the guy, but he did feel energized and motivated. Now what he needed to do was decompress in the hot tub and let everything sink in.

  “See you next time,” Bill Potter said, shaking Trent’s hand.

  “Later, man,” Trent replied, then made his way to the locker room. Ramirez was close at his heels.

  “So, what’d you think?”

  “It was alright,” Trent said, pulling his shirt over his head.

  “Just alright?”

  “Yeah, just fucking alright. What do you want me to say? That the guy performed a miracle and I can punch the shit out of anyone who comes near me?”

  Ramirez leaned his forearm against a locker. “Looked to me like it went pretty fucking great.”

  Trent didn’t reply and got busy changing instead.

  “How about you give this guy a chance?”

  “What the hell am I doing? I’m meeting with him already. What more do you want me to do? Suck his dick?”

  “Just make sure your head’s in it. No more dicking around. That reporter’s gone and you should be focusing on your training again.”

  “Got it, boss,” Trent said, giving him a mock salute. “Now are you gonna stand around and soap my back too, or what?”

  Ramirez huffed and made his way out of the locker room. Trent took off the last of his sweaty clothes, grabbed a towel, turned on the music, and jumped in the shower. The water was steaming and Led Zeppelin blasted out of the speakers.

  He stuck his face under the shower head and tried to let his mind clear. Working with Bill had gone pretty good, but maybe Ramirez had seen it another way. Maybe Trent wasn’t seeing things like an outsider.

  The reporter’s gone. Ramirez’s words echoed in Trent’s mind. She sure was. He hadn’t heard from her after she’d basically told him to go to hell that last time and he hadn’t called her. Why should he? What did he have to say to her now? That he was sorry for acting like an ass?

  She’d been messing with his mind the entire time they’d been together, yet he was the one always feeling like he fucked up. He’d never been made to feel more like an idiot than when he’d dealt with her.

  And then she’d written that damned article and it had been everything he hadn’t expected. He’d been sure that she’d drag his name through the mud and make him sound like the biggest asshole in the world, but she hadn’t done that. Maybe because she was a professional, just like she’d told him, or maybe because…well, who the fuck knew why.

  Either way, she’d made him seem like a normal human being, working hard at being the best, but not immune to his own weaknesses. Overall, he’d been pleased with the outcome as had Emmanuel. To say that the old man had been surprised to hear that Trent had agreed to do an interview was an understatement. But then, he’d said he knew all along that Trent would come around and give in, especially to a woman who obviously made such an impression on him.

  Not the words Trent had wanted to hear, but whatever.

  The water splashed over him and he ran his hands over his face.

  So the fucking interview was done, the whole world knew he’d given in, and he’d been pestered with requests for more ever since. Just what he’d wanted to avoid. Pandora’s box had been opened and there was no going back.

  And in the midst of all this, Ramirez expected Trent to keep a cool head and focus. Right. Easier said than done. Hopefully the shrink would help.

  After soaping and rinsing, he turned off the water and dried himself, then went to get dressed. It was late and the day’s training was wearing him down. He’d grab some food on the way home and go enjoy that soak in his hot tub.

  By the time he was leaving the gym, most of the guys were already gone and only a couple of stragglers remained behind. Ramirez was still there, watching over their sparring.

  “Later, Ramirez,” Trent called out across the gym.

  Ramirez held up a hand in answer and continued supervising the fighters.

  Trent knew that no matter how much Ramirez pestered him, the guy did talk sense most of the time and knew the sport in and out. Trent just had to get past the animosity he was feeling toward everyone and everything, and clear the road for another win. Now that the reporter was gone….

  The words had haunted him before they’d ever been uttered. He’d been disappointed that she hadn’t called him again, but it was all for the best. She had no business butting into his life and he had other priorities to take care of. Like he’d told her, he couldn’t take care of her, or anyone else for that matter. Hell, right now, he had trouble taking care of himself.

  He remembered the angry look in her eyes as she’d told him that she didn’t need to be cared for. He’d been taken off guard by everything she’d told him, and he’d realized just how little he knew about her. The entire time they’d hung out, he’d been too busy thinking about himself and his issues, when he could have at least made an effort to get to know her more. Now it was too late and he was left with many unanswered questions. The irony didn’t escape him. Just as their relationship had come to an end, he felt the sudden urge to interview her and find out why in the hell she drove like the devil himself was chasing her.

  He let out a frustrated breath and drove to a sandwich shop close to his house, where he picked up food at the drive-through. Twenty minutes later, he pulled into his driveway, hungry, tired, and mentally exhausted. He blamed the shrink, but that was a big, fat lie. There was only one reason for it and her name was Sam.

  Chapter 12

  Two months went by, during which Sam was busy writing more articles and interviewing more people than she’d ever thought possible. Her boss insisted on putting her on any important assignment coming
their way, saying that she knew how to get it done and didn’t take No for an answer from anyone. Sam groaned each time he gave her a thumbs up.

  Staying busy at work helped keep her sane at home, which she needed. She’d taken the plunge a few more times and called her parents, each time talking to them for several minutes before needing some distance again. They were taking excruciatingly slow baby steps, which was perfectly fine with her. It did put her on edge though each time she decided to pick up the phone and dial their number. That feeling she had in the pit of her stomach never seemed to go away. Each time, she was nervous about hearing their voices again and noticing if they sounded like normal people or like their former, old selves. So far, so good.

  Other than focusing on work and rebuilding her relationship with her parents, she didn’t allow herself to give other matters much thought, namely the matter of a certain athlete. She hadn’t spoken to Trent in months and was disappointed about the way everything had turned out.

  Despite that, she couldn’t help but order his Pay-Per-View fight on TV that Saturday night and settle deep into her couch cushions with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn. Her nerves were on edge as though she was the one about to step into the ring, not Trent.

  When the announcement had been made that he’d be fighting that night, she’d been floored. It had only been a couple of months since his loss, yet he was back in the ring again. Was he ready?

  That was a stupid question. Obviously he thought he was. But could he actually pull it off? Could he win again or would he suffer another loss? What if he got knocked out this time?

  Her stomach was in knots and she poured herself a second glass of wine before the fighters even stepped into the ring.

  Her doorbell rang and she got up to answer it.