The Edge of the Fight

Mike sat in his truck, engine running, hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles went white. The glow of his phone screen lit up the cab, the open app staring back at him.

It would be easy. Just a few taps.

He hadn’t been here in a long time—not like this. Not with the weight pressing in so hard, whispering just give in.

He closed his eyes, breath shaky.

What’s the point of fighting anymore?

It wasn’t just this moment—it was the exhaustion of always fighting. Always being the one trying to resist, trying to hold the line. Tonight, something in him felt like breaking.

The screen blurred as he hovered his thumb over the button.

And then—his phone rang.

Josh.

Mike just stared at the name, pulse hammering. He could ignore it. Could let it ring out.

But his hands moved before his mind caught up, swiping the call open.

“Mike?” Josh’s voice was steady, no small talk, just straight to it.

Mike swallowed, pressing his forehead against the wheel. “Yeah.”

A pause. “Where are you?”

Mike exhaled through his nose. “Parking lot.”

Josh didn’t ask which one. He just knew.

“You already in?”

Mike squeezed his eyes shut. “Not yet.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Josh spoke, voice firm. “You’re not alone.”

Mike let out a bitter breath. “Sure feels like it.”

“You think that’s an accident?” Josh shot back. “You think that voice in your head is yours? That exhaustion, that pull—it ain’t just struggle, brother. It’s war. And you’re not fighting it alone.”

Mike’s jaw clenched. His grip on the wheel tightened. He wanted to believe that. But right now, the weight felt so heavy.

Josh’s voice came softer now. “Look, man. I know you’re tired. I know this fight feels like it’ll never end. But listen to me—this is not who you are. You’re not some lost man, crawling back to the pit. You are my brother. And I will not let you sit in this alone.”

Mike’s throat tightened.

“You want to sit there in silence, fine,” Josh said. “I’ll sit with you. But you’re not walking into that place, and you’re not going under. Not tonight.”

Mike gritted his teeth. He felt the pull, still there. Still strong. But something else was there now too—a hand gripping his collar, refusing to let go.

For the first time that night, the weight shifted.

He inhaled. “Yeah. Okay.”

Josh’s voice held steady. “Let’s go. I’ll meet you at the diner in ten. Coffee’s on me.”

Mike nodded, even though Josh couldn’t see him. His hand hovered over the phone for a second—then he closed the app, threw the phone onto the passenger seat, and shifted the truck into gear.

He pulled out of the parking lot. Out of the fight—for now.

And not alone.