Chapter 6 A Tight Fit

"How was your first day?"

The question hit Ajax the second he stepped through the squeaky front door of their cramped, third-floor two-bedroom apartment. The scent of garlic and cheap marinara sauce hung heavy in the warm, stagnant air.

His mother, Cassandra, was standing near the stove in the kitchen, her eyes immediately scanning his face for any signs of trouble, exhaustion, or worse, injuries. Ajax was willing to bet she’d been staring at the clock for the last four hours, agonizing over his return, wondering if he had walked out of the building and never looked back.

He forced a tight, reassuring smile, trying to smooth over the rough edges of his day. "It was fine, Mom. Just boring."

He hung his heavy backpack and his gym bag in the tiny entryway closet, making sure to tuck his MMA hand wraps deep inside so she wouldn't see them, before stepping into the small living room.

On the floor, surrounded by an absolute mountain of unfolded laundry, sat his eight-year-old sister, Althea. She was holding one of his oversized black sweatshirts, completely ignoring her chores as her green eyes remained glued to a cartoon about flying fairies on the television screen.

Ajax dropped onto the worn carpet beside her, pulling the sweatshirt out of her hands and planting a loud, obnoxious kiss on the crown of her dark head.

"Pest," he murmured, his voice softening instantly.

"Nose booger," Althea shot back without a second's hesitation, her eyes never leaving the colorful screen.

Ajax looked at the small, chaotic pile of "folded" clothes beside her and sighed. Normally, their mother would have lost her mind over a half-assed job like this. The fact that Althea was getting away with it meant Cassandra was completely preoccupied with his return to school.

Which meant a heavy interrogation was heading his way.

"If you're sitting here watching TV, I'm guessing your homework is done?" Ajax asked, quietly taking over the laundry pile and folding a shirt with practiced ease.

"Uh-huh. Had dinner, too," Althea said, finally turning her little green-eyed, pink-lipped face toward him. She leveled a stern, mimicking glare at him. "Where were you? School ended hours ago."

"Work," Ajax lied smoothly, placing a folded sweatshirt aside. He couldn't tell her about the gym; Althea was too young to keep a secret from their mother.

Althea’s expression softened. She accepted the answer without question, turning her attention back to the glowing screen.

He smiled, the sound of her quiet giggles acting like a healing balm on his bruised soul. Because of his grueling schedule, they didn't get much time together anymore. He tried to make every second count, even if he had to compete with animated fairies.

"Leave your sister alone and come talk to me, Ajax," his mother’s voice called out from the dining corner.

The smile died instantly on Ajax's lips.

He suppressed a heavy sigh, stood up, and walked over to the small wooden table by the window. The apartment was a literal matchbox, but it was the best they could do on short notice. Ajax slept on the creaking, worn-out pullout couch in the living room so his mother and sister could have their own private spaces. He didn't mind the discomfort; he minded the loss of privacy, but his sister's comfort came first.

He looked at his mother. Her olive skin—a testament to her Greek and Italian heritage—was still pale, a lingering, terrifying shadow of the severe illness that had nearly taken her life a year ago. During those awful weeks in the hospital, Ajax had watched her fade into a ghost. Her glossy black hair had gone dull, and her vibrant green eyes had lost their light.

That hospital stay had cost them everything. While she lay unconscious, the bank had foreclosed on their suburban home, and Ajax had been forced to drop out of school, secure this apartment, and move their entire lives with Pablo's financial backing.

It had been the longest, most brutal year of his life.

"Thanks, Mom," Ajax murmured, sitting down across from her and pulling a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes toward himself. His stomach let out an angry growl; he’d been so wound up all day he’d forgotten to eat.

"So," Cassandra pressed, leaning over the table, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes wide with a desperate kind of hope. "How were your classes? Did you talk to the teachers? Are you keeping up with the reading?"

Ajax swallowed a mouthful of potatoes and forced a casual shrug. "Classes are fine. The teachers are the same. It's not hard, Mom. Don't worry about it."

He hadn't paid a single second of attention to the lectures, of course. He’d spent the entire day counting backward from ten to keep from putting his fist through a desk.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

There was one detail he had noticed.

The quiet, dark-skinned girl with the fierce, guarded eyes—Maya.

They shared every single class. She kept her head down, spoke only when spoken to, and always sat in the back row, clutching her books like a shield. He’d noticed the careful, deliberate way she waited for the classrooms to completely empty before she ventured out into the crowded hallways, as if she were trying to avoid being seen by anyone.

She was a ghost hiding in plain sight, a beautiful, fragile thing in a school full of wolves. And for some reason he couldn't explain, Ajax couldn't get her out of his head.

"Come on," his mother coaxed, reaching out to pat his hand. "Give me something. You must have made some friends. Or at least saw some of your old football buddies?"

Ajax’s expression darkened slightly, and he gently pulled his hand back to pick up his fork. "Old friends have their own lives, Mom. We've got nothing in common anymore. I'm just there to get the paper and get out."

Cassandra deflated slightly, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face, but she forced a smile anyway. "Well, just promise me you'll give it a chance. It's only four months, Ajax. For your future."

"I promise, Mom," Ajax lied, keeping his eyes on his plate. "Like riding a bike. I've got it all under control."