The Ghost In The Ring

Chapter 14: 

Jack's muscles tensed as he stood outside the old gym where Ethan had trained. The faded sign above the door was still there, though the letters had begun to peel, a testament to how long it had been since he had last walked through these doors. The air smelled faintly of sweat and dust, as if the memories themselves had become part of the place.

He hadn't come here in years. After Ethan's death, the gym had become a reminder of everything he had lost—everything they had lost. But now, standing there, Jack wasn't sure why he had decided to return. Maybe it was the mounting pressure, the whispers about Rico, or the fact that everywhere he went, people were talking about Ethan again. Or maybe it was because he knew there was unfinished business here, something he had avoided for too long.

Taking a deep breath, Jack pushed open the door and stepped inside. The sound of fists hitting heavy bags filled the air, and the familiar metallic clang of weights being racked brought back a flood of memories. He could almost see Ethan in the corner, practicing his footwork, his face set in determination.

But it wasn't Ethan who greeted him today. Instead, it was Coach Greg, standing by the far wall, his posture stiff and his face etched with lines of regret and exhaustion. He hadn't changed much since the last time Jack had seen him—same buzz cut, same tired eyes—but there was something in his expression that spoke of a weight he had been carrying for far too long.

Jack hesitated for a moment, but then Greg spotted him, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Jack." The word hung in the air like a lead weight.

Jack nodded stiffly. "Coach."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as they stood there, neither of them moving. Jack could feel the tension building, the memories of that fateful night at the forefront of both their minds. He hadn't come here looking for a fight, but the anger was already rising in his chest, the old resentment bubbling up.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Greg finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's been… a long time."

"Yeah, it has," Jack replied, his tone cold. He glanced around the gym, the familiar setting bringing back a mix of nostalgia and bitterness. "I didn't think I'd ever come back."

Greg sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I can understand why."

The conversation stalled again, and Jack felt his jaw tighten. He hadn't prepared for this. He hadn't come here to talk about Ethan, but now that he was face-to-face with Greg, the words were slipping out before he could stop them.

"You were supposed to protect him," Jack said, his voice low but sharp. "You were his coach. How could you let it happen?"

Greg's face fell, and for a moment, he looked as though he had been punched in the gut. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, struggling to find the right words. Jack's anger surged.

"He was your fighter," Jack continued, his voice rising. "You knew what Rico was capable of. You should have stopped the fight when it got out of hand. You should've done something!"

"I know," Greg said quietly, his voice cracking. "I know, Jack. And I've thought about that every single day since it happened."

Jack took a step forward, his fists clenched. He had imagined this confrontation a thousand times—thought about everything he wanted to say, everything he needed to hear. But standing here now, looking at Greg's worn-out expression, the anger was colliding with something else. Sadness. Pain. And, perhaps worst of all, guilt.

"I failed him," Greg continued, his eyes filled with a sorrow Jack hadn't expected to see. "I've replayed that fight over and over in my mind, wondering what I could've done differently. I should have thrown in the towel. I should have called it. But I didn't, and Ethan paid the price."

Jack felt the sting of tears welling up in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let himself break down. He had been holding onto his anger for so long, using it as a shield against the grief, against the loss. But now, standing here with Greg, the shield was starting to crack.

"Why didn't you stop it?" Jack demanded, his voice raw. "Why didn't you protect him?"

Greg exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the question had been crushing him for years. "Because I believed in him. Ethan was determined to win that fight. He was so damn stubborn, Jack. He wouldn't let me call it off. He wanted to prove that he could beat Rico, that he was stronger than anyone gave him credit for. And I—" Greg choked on his words, swallowing hard before continuing. "I thought I was doing the right thing by letting him fight. I thought he could handle it."

Jack shook his head, the words not enough to soothe the ache in his chest. "He couldn't. And now he's gone."

"I know." Greg's voice broke, and for the first time, Jack saw tears in his eyes. "I know, and I'll never forgive myself for it."

The room was suffocating now, the weight of their shared grief hanging in the air like a thick fog. Jack's heart pounded in his chest, the walls closing in as he tried to breathe through the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He had come here looking for someone to blame, someone to carry the burden of his pain. But standing here, face-to-face with Greg, he realized that the guilt wasn't just his or Greg's. It was shared by everyone who had been there that night.

"I loved Ethan like a son," Greg said softly, his voice trembling. "I would have given anything to protect him. But I couldn't. And now… now I live with that every day."

Jack felt a lump rise in his throat, the bitterness fading, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. He had spent so long blaming Greg, blaming Rico, even blaming himself. But none of it had changed the fact that Ethan was gone. Nothing would.

"You think facing Rico is going to make this right?" Greg asked, his eyes searching Jack's. "You think getting in the ring with him will bring you peace?"

Jack didn't answer. He had been asking himself that question for weeks, and he still didn't know the answer. The idea of confronting Rico was intoxicating, the thought of making him answer for what he had done. But deep down, Jack knew that beating Rico wouldn't bring Ethan back. It wouldn't erase the pain.

Greg stepped forward, his voice soft but steady. "Jack, I know you're angry. I'm angry too. But revenge isn't going to heal you. It's just going to keep you trapped in the past. And I don't want that for you."

Jack closed his eyes, the weight of Greg's words sinking in. He had been fighting so hard, trying to find something—anything—that would give him the closure he needed. But maybe Lena was right. Maybe fighting Rico wouldn't bring him peace. Maybe peace had to come from within, from accepting that some things could never be changed.

"I don't know what to do," Jack whispered, his voice barely audible.

Greg placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "You move forward. You find a way to live for yourself, not just for Ethan."

Jack swallowed hard, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel the full weight of his grief, without the anger, without the guilt. Just the pain of losing his brother.

It wasn't a resolution. It wasn't the closure he had been searching for. But it was a step.

And for now, that was enough.