Four weeks. In that small chunk of time, I was cleared by the doctor to stop using my sling. I've been in rehab for three of those weeks and it's going really well. My therapist, Landon, also happens to work out at the gym where my dad set me up. While I'm not cleared to put on gloves and get in the ring yet, he's been gearing my rehab towards regaining full range of motion so that I can start sparring sooner rather than later. I need an outlet for this anger. Because four weeks is also how long it has been since my blowup with Dean.

Kelsey and Jamie are more or less not speaking to me. Can't say I blame them. I've been a raging bitch. Being self-aware enough to admit to it doesn't mean much when I'm not willing to do anything about it. They both got tired of my shit right around the time I told them to fuck off and stay out of my business. That was in response to them trying to set up an 'impromptu' run-in between me and Dean. It didn't end well. They asked me to meet them for lunch and I showed up to the diner early, catching them both talking to him. Traders. He dumped me. They're supposed to be on my side! So I proceeded to bang on the window next to their table and flip them off. Halfway down the street, they caught up with me and that's when I let them have it, not even sticking around long enough to hear them explain. Dean was nowhere to be seen.

The diner incident was five days ago. Jamie and I have exchanged exactly ten words. On my way out the door for one of my classes he asked, "Can you pick up milk on your way home?" to which I replied, "Yup." That's it. Kelsey is different. We don't speak, but she communicates an awful lot through her death glares. Needless to say, I've been walking to and from my classes. At least February in L.A. means temperatures in the mid-seventies. So that's something.

Today is my free day. No class on Fridays, so I go in for double therapy sessions. Anything to keep myself occupied. My best friend these days is my physical therapist. How messed up is that?

"Hey Jess! You ready for a workout? I'm pushing you hard today. Gotta see if we can get you cleared." Landon crosses to me with his instruments of torture in hand. Tennis balls and tension bands. His words sink in though and my demeanor changes instantly.

"You mean it? I might be able to start boxing again?" I can't keep the excitement out of my voice. It feels odd because I haven't felt anything other than anger, pain, frustration or sadness in a month. I'm ready to embrace it though.

"We'll see, we'll see." He tosses me the tennis ball to warm up with and I plan to give everything I've got over the next hour and a half. The need to prove that I'm ready outweighs everything else.

Ninety minutes later, I'm sweating and sore, but in the best ways. Not the soreness that comes from inflammation and damaged tendons. No, this is the I-just-kicked-that-workout's-ass kind of sore.

"Damn. You must really wanna get away from me, huh?" Landon asks, tossing me a towel.

I wipe my face and sling the towel around my neck, gripping both ends. "No way. You are pretty much the only person I'm on speaking terms with right now." My laugh has an edge of bitterness to it. "I just need to get in that gym and punch something. Know what I mean?"

Landon eyes me cautiously. "I do, but we need to make a deal. If I clear you, you've gotta take it slow. If you hurt, you need to stop. And I want you icing that elbow after every workout."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Yeah, I got it. I'm not dumb. I don't want to re-injure the arm. So when can I start?" I'm practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. If he tells me I can go today, that's where I'm heading as soon as I clear the doorway.

"I don't want you overdoing it. We had a double session today so no workouts until tomorrow. Cool?" He taps some notes into his laptop and hands me something from the little portable printer. It's my final session notes with the words 'Cleared for all activities' at the bottom.

"Yes! Oh my god, Landon thank you so much. You don't know how much I need this. Thank you." I throw my arms around him in gratitude before I'm able to rein it in. "Sorry," I fold the paper a few times in my hands.

Landon clears his throat and crosses his arms, leaning a hip against his body work table. "No need to thank me. You've worked harder than any other client I've had. This one is all you." His mouth curls up on the side. "But I do think it might be a good idea if I'm around for your first workout. Just to make sure you don't overwork that arm. I was planning on hitting the gym tomorrow anyway. Why don't I meet you there? I can introduce you around."

I tap the folded papers against my hand a few times, gnawing on my bottom lip a little. Landon is only a few years older than me. He's working on his doctorate in physical therapy at USC but he lives closer to the UCLA campus because of work. He's tall, much taller than me. And he almost never shaves leaving him with a scruffy beard, which I've teased him about numerous times. He's muscular in the lean, athletic sort of way. He kind of reminds me of that guy from Arrow. Yeah, it definitely hasn't been a hardship looking at him for six or seven hours a week these last three weeks. But I've always seen Landon in nothing but a professional capacity. He was my therapist, his only role in my life was getting me back in working condition. Now that we're officially terminating that relationship, I have to find a new compartment for him. His eyes sweep over my face, analyzing my hesitation.

"I mean, unless you'd rather fly solo. I totally get it." He glances down and shoves his hands in the pockets of his loose-fitting sweats.

"No, no. That'd be great," I say quickly, not wanting to offend him. "My dad knows the owner, but I'm completely in the dark there. It'd be great if you could be with me for my first time." Immediately my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue at the poor choice of words. "You know what I meant."

Landon shakes his head, holding back a laugh. "Yeah, I got it. How 'bout we meet up at ten?"

Now I hesitate for a different reason. "Um, I actually have to double check the bus schedule. My friend Kelsey and I aren't really on speaking terms and I usually borrow her wheels, so I'm a pedestrian these days."

"No way. I'll pick you up on my way. You're in Westwood Apartments right?"

I look at him suspiciously because, stalk much? "Uh, yeah…"

He's barely able to contain his laughter. "Cool it, J. It's in your chart. And right on top of that paper I just handed you."

I nonchalantly unfold the papers and look at the top where my name, address, date of birth and contact number are listed. Feeling silly, I try to completely bypass my paranoia. "Right. Yeah. Westwood, right at the corner of Veteran and Gayley. Are you sure it's not a problem? I'm fine with the bus."

Raising an eyebrow he just smirks and says, "I'll see you at ten."

I nod and thank him again, then I'm off to dunk my head under a stream of cold water to wash away my embarrassment.

After my first good night's sleep in a long time, I woke up later than I planned. I'm now rushing around, tugging on compression shorts and a tank top while frantically scouring the room for my hand wraps. It's just before ten and I know I should be downstairs waiting on Landon.

I spot the neon green wraps under a duffle bag in the corner of my closet when I hear the first round of rapping at the door. I bang my head on the closet door when I stand and race to the bed to shove the wraps into my gym bag. Three more knocks and I'm running through the door with the bag over my shoulder just as Kelsey pulls the front door open. I freeze, because I can only imagine what is about to go through her mind.

"Hey, I'm Landon. You must be Kelsey. I'm here to pick up Jessie?" I can't see him with the door in the way, but I do see Kelsey reach out to, I assume, shake his hand.

"Uh, okay. Hang on…" She turns and spots me in the hall. "For you," she says stiffly.

"He's my physical therapist. He's just giving me a ride to the gym." I don't know why I feel the need to explain myself, especially when these are the first words we've spoken to each other in a week.

She shoulders past me and I swear I hear her mutter something about what I'm planning to ride. I let it go. It's just more fuel for my workout. Grabbing my keys from the bowl on the table next to the door, I greet Landon. "Hey! You didn't have to come up. I would've met you downstairs."

"It's not a problem. I'm a little early and I wasn't sure if you'd be ready." He certainly looks ready in his baggy, black basketball shorts, loose fitting gray tank top and cross trainers.

I realize he catches me checking him out when he clears his throat. What is wrong with me? Rather than look at his face, which is surely smirking at me, I lock the door behind me and cross the hall to punch the button for the elevator.

"So do you like this place?" I ask when he takes my bag and drops it into the trunk of his Mazda.

"What, Chuck's? Yeah, it's a great gym. Chuck is a dick, but in a good way if you know what I mean. Not many girls work out there, but the ones who do are dead serious about it and if Chuck catches any guys messing with them, they're out. No questions."

Now I understand why my dad wanted me working out here. Even three thousand miles away, he wants me under some kind of protection. I'm fine with that as long as it means I can still workout and spar occasionally. I may have lost fighting for money, but it was never really about the money. That was just a means to an end. The actual fights were my way to cope.

We make small talk on the way to the gym which is only about six minutes from the apartment. I could easily jog it when I go on my own. Landon informs me that the gym specializes in boxing and MMA training. There are a few classes available, but I'm mainly interested in working solo. I'm not here to learn, just to let off steam.

When we park, I take in the outside of the building and it's pretty plain, blending in with the other storefronts along the street. The windows are tinted so you can't see much from the outside. We walk in and there are about thirty people scattered all around the large space. I hone in on the section in the back with heavy bags and speed bags hung up, knowing this will be where I spend much of my time. In the center of the room is a large black boxing ring with red ropes. There are two guys sparring in the middle and a short, gray haired man is leaning against one corner with his arms slung over the ropes, yelling tips and cursing.

Landon leads us in their direction and I'm assuming the man in the corner is who we're coming to see. "Yo Chuck, got a minute?" he shouts above the background noise of the gym.

The man looks down at us and his eyebrows shoot up when his gaze falls on me. Taking the three metal steps, he slaps Landon on the back in greeting. They chat briefly, then Landon turns to introduce me.

"Chuck, this is Jessie Maddox." His hand on the back of my shoulder urges me forward.

"Of course it is." Chuck looks me over and shakes his head a bit. "You may be a fighter like your pop, but you look just like your mama."

I smile warmly and reach out to shake his hand. "Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment."

"As you should." He returns my smile and I automatically know I'm going to like this guy. Turning his attention to Landon, he shoves him out of the way and wraps his own arm around me, surprisingly strong given his age. "I'll take it from here Lan, go hit those weights. You're lookin' a little puny, boy."

Landon flips him off with a laugh and heads to the locker room to stow his gear. I give Chuck my full attention as he walks me through each area of the gym. He stops every so often to correct form, encourage, or shout orders. "Damn it, Frank, how many times do I need to tell you not to jump around like a damn rabbit when you hit that bag?!" Leaning closer to me he says, "Kid learned everything he knows about boxing from those damn Rocky movies."

I cover my mouth and try to disguise my laugh as a cough, not wanting to make enemies with any of the other people training.

"Alright, well that's everything. Don't worry about dues, your pop has that covered. If you need anything, my office is in the back by the locker rooms. Gym's open 24/7, and I'm here just about as often. Live right upstairs. Anyone bothers you, you come get me, Hank or Jimmy. One of us are always on the floor somewhere. Jimmy's around most times on the night shift. You interested in any classes?"

I press my lips together to hide my smile. "Uh, no. I think I'm good."

Shaking his head on a raspy laugh he pats my shoulder. "Apple don't fall far from the tree there, I suppose. Well, go on then. Tuck your stuff away in the locker room. Anything without a lock is available. Holler if you need something."

I'm walking back in the direction of the lockers when his gruff voice calls out to me. "Oh and Jessie? Stay out of trouble. No cash changes hands in my gym, got it?"

Red faced, I nod in understanding, hurrying to lock up my belongings and wrap my hands. Tucking the cords of my earbuds behind my ears, I crank my music and head straight to the boxing training area. I settle in across from a girl with blonde hair piled high on her head. She looks familiar but I can't place her. Ignoring the tugging at the back of my memory, I get to work. The sooner I'm back in fighting shape, the sooner I'll be able to get in the ring to spar. I tune out everyone and everything around me and hit the rope for a good twenty minutes, then throw in a hundred sit-ups and some lunges with the dumbbells. Once I'm warmed up, I head to the heavy bags and begin my dance. Circling the bag, taking jab after jab, it all comes back so easily. The movements are ingrained in my muscle memory from years of repetition. The best part? With every strike, my adrenaline rushes, my endorphins are released, and that stress-relieving high I was searching for seeps into my veins.

The hand on my shoulder startles me and I turn to swing but my fist is caught by a much larger hand. I see Landon's lips moving but can't hear him over Jonathan Davis' voice coming through my headphones, growling about being a freak on a leash. I tap the button on my iPod and take out one earbud. "Huh?" I ask, panting from exertion.

"I said, easy killer. You haven't taken any breaks and you're gonna do some damage to that elbow if you go this hard on your first day." I nod, still catching my breath and I finally take a good look at him. He lost the shirt and has it tucked in the pocket of his shorts. His body is seriously ripped and covered in sweat. I feel super awkward staring at him even though, hello I'm only human, so I take a seat on a bench and begin unwrapping my hands and wrists to give myself something else to focus on.

"Yeah, I guess I got a little caught up. I feels good to be back at it though." He takes the seat next to me, chugging from a large bottle of water. When he finishes he holds it out to me. Because I'm dying from thirst, I take it and chug a few gulps then hand it back. "Thanks."

He nudges me with his shoulder. "You're welcome. So…," he leans forward, elbows on his knees, "what's your schedule for this place gonna be like?"

I think about my life right now and answer honestly. "If I could be here every waking moment, it probably still wouldn't be enough."

His smile is a bit sad when he glances at me from the side, then casts his eyes back on the bottle he's rolling back and forth in his hands. "Things sort of suck for you right now, huh?"

Landon and I haven't had any heart to hearts or anything like that, but throughout the course of my therapy I've let a few obscure details slip into our conversations. He knows that I'm dealing with a rough breakup, and that I got hurt during the earthquake. I skimmed over the details of the whole illegal fighting thing, though.

"You could say that. My brother and best friend decided last weekend that they were going to attempt to push me and my ex together without our permission. Or, without mine at least. They wanted me to meet them for lunch and when I showed up, they were sitting there talking to him. He made it clear before that he doesn't want anything to do with me, so I got pissed that they would put me back in a situation to be humiliated once again. And I may or may not have flipped them off and bolted."

He chuckles and shifts on the bench so that he's got one leg on either side and he's facing me. "Can I ask why you guys broke up?"

He seems genuinely curious, so I give him the short version. "I thought he went behind my back and told someone something that could've caused a lot of problems; big problems. Turns out he didn't. When I confronted him and figured out what had really happened, he more or less said that we couldn't be together because I don't trust him. Sorta killed me, and things have sucked pretty bad ever since. That's about it." My eyes are stinging a little when I finish so I raise them to the ceiling, blinking back the tears forcing their way to the surface.

Landon sighs and drops his eyes to the bench between us. He shifts back slightly and looks at me for a minute before finally speaking. "It would've been so much easier if you said he was a dick who cheated on you and you were over it. But it's obvious you're not. And it doesn't seem like he's that much of a dick." He gives me a tight smile when my eyes widen, then continues. "Seriously. It sounds like you just need to have a little more faith in people. Namely, the ex. Trust is a bitch. There's no easy way to give it, and on the other end it's hard as hell to gain it from someone who's holding on to it the way you do."

"What makes you such an expert on my trust issues?" I ask, a little annoyed that he's being so insightful into my love life.

"Do you remember the first week of your therapy? You wouldn't let anyone correct your form. You told me to piss off when I tried to help you rotate your arm properly. Everything had to be you, solo. No trust."

He's right. I can be such an asshole sometimes. "Yeah, but everything worked out there. Three weeks later, and here I am back in the gym."

"But do you remember how we got through that?" He asks pointedly.

I give him a questioning look because I'm not sure what exactly he's referring to.

"I told you that if you ever wanted to see the inside of a ring again, you had to cut the shit and let me help you. And you did. Because you wanted it so bad, you weren't going to let anything keep you from it. You trusted me to get you there, because you needed it more than anything else at the time."

I'm quiet for a long time. I figured he would get up and leave me to my thoughts by now, but he's right there next to me, waiting for it all to sink in. "So, you're saying if I need him, if I love him as much as I say I do, I have to want it bad enough to trust him."

"What I'm saying is, if you love him, you need to fight to make him see it. Make him understand that there's nothing you wouldn't do to keep him. And if you're not ready to do that, then it's not love."

Now he does get up and taps me on the shoulder with the empty water bottle before turning towards the locker rooms.

"You're totally underpaid," I say to his back.

He barks out a laugh. "You know it! But I'm not on duty, remember?"

One more thing nags at me. "Hey, wait a sec." I jog after him and catch up in the hall right in front of the doors leading to the women's and men's locker rooms. "What'd you mean when you said it would be easier if Dean was a dick?"

Hands low on his hips, he leans back against the wall, eyes on my feet. "Figured you'd pick up on that one." I mirror his stance against the opposite wall and cross my arms, waiting for an answer.

"It'd be easier because you're kind of awesome, and if he was a dick, and you were over him, then I'd be able to ask you out." My eyebrows shoot up and I swallow hard, but he cuts me off before I can say anything. "Hey, I said if!" he laughs at my reaction. "After our conversation, I get it. No need to freak out. We're cool, I promise."

He holds his hand out to me and I reach to shake it. "Fine, we're cool. No more talk about anyone asking anything. We're workout buds, that's all."

"Jessie I told you, we're good. Work on the trust!" he jokes, and I slap his chest at the dig. "Now that roommate of yours… What's her situation?"

He earns three more slaps before we part ways and hit the showers. When I'm dressed and feeling much better than when I walked in, I meet Landon out front. He slings an arm around my shoulders like Jamie normally does and we head back to his car. The whole ride home, I think about what Landon said about my situation with Dean. It sounds a lot like what my mom said as well. If I want Dean back, and I do, I need to fight for him. Now that I'm getting my shit together, I think I finally know how to do that.

A/N: Sorry guys, life is keeping me really preoccupied! I promise, this story will never be abandoned. Just bear with me on the chapters that take me a little longer than a week to post. :-) 3 you all!