The night before the fight, I barely get a wink of sleep: a combination of nerves and embarrassment has me tossing and turning, which means I end up sleeping in until midafternoon. When I finally wake, it's to a text from Jeremiah. I hold my breath and open the message, not knowing what to
expect.
Jenson reserved two rooms for us at the MGM Grand.
It seems absurd to lie to my mother about going to Vegas when I've always told her the truth. But she'd never understand, and the last thing I want to do is worry her when she's doing so well.
I responded with a simple "okay." The last week hasn't felt particularly strained between us, but since we swore to each other that neither of us would cave, our sessions have been strictly platonic. Even though I have no reason to be, a large part of
