Page 53 of I Love a Good Challenge

It would have been smarter not to show up today. I don’t trust myself not to pull her close and whisper all the things that feel as if they could climb out of my skin when I’m around her. I want to let the burn of her kiss sear me right through and push away my fear. I want to wrap her up in forgiveness and love for the rest of my life.

But that’s the problem. I’m drowning in a one-sided love that will always be more empty than full until she chooses to admit what she has felt all along. I need more than an explanation; I need action. I know she has something in her system that haunts her about our time together.

Everything I feel radiating from her might as well be worth nothing if she can’t admit it to my face. I know she won’t be making a confession of love for me today. The second I walked through the door and saw her expression, I knew I was in for it. Still, I’ll admit that the satisfying thud of her gloves as they meet the weight of the punching bag again and again while her ponytail bounces behind her is distracting and wildly attractive.

I’ve never pictured her in this environment, even with her snarky hints that she’s capable of taking someone down on the mat. I’ve heard her telling other people that she’s happier than ever now that she’s getting her aggression out. But I’ve yet to see her in action. As I watch her now, it’s clear that, despite my presence, Lily is focused on maximizing each and every punch. Her gloves land hard on the bag, rattling it in its foundation. I don’t know whether to applaud Edgar for his training or flat out level him to the ground (or try to).

I’m not a violent man by any stretch of the imagination, but I feel the instant bristle toward anything (or anyone) that has taken me away from her over the past few years.

In short, I’m in for it today.

My approach startles Lily. She knocks into the bag, and it swings back a bit, lightly hitting her in return before she’s steady again on her feet. I’d laugh, but there’s nothing funny about what’s about to go down in this space.

Edgar—who has a good bit of weight and muscle on me, might I add—walks out from the direction of the lockers just then, and Lily gives him a wave. Instantly, I want to add him to the list of men I’d level, if necessary.

“Hey, Edgar,” she calls.

He flashes her a grin, and it’s confirmed that I hate him. “Hey, Lils,” Edgar replies with an easy familiarity. He casts a cool glance my way and gives me a brief nod before returning his attention to her. My hands clench into fists. It shouldn’t surprise me, given how gloriously sharp and fiery Lily can be, that another man might be interested in her. Of course he wants to stay on her good side.

Rolling back my shoulders, I try to muster the confidence of a man who was asked to be here today. I’m not just some out-of-towner who hasn’t ever worked out. I work out every day. Surely, today’s challenge should be more than manageable—I think.

Lily pulls the Velcro tighter on her gloves. She’s gearing up to go into battle, and while the punching bag is her current target, I wonder if her aggression toward the bag is about me.

I approach gingerly, my hands working to adjust the boxing gloves I pulled out of my bag. Are they brand-new? Yes. Did I buy them specifically so that Lily couldn’t hassle me about borrowing a pair? Also, yes.

She motions to the second punching bag a few feet away and continues to hit one of them. At the moment, this may be a warm-up, but the stiffness in her limbs tells me she’s been waiting for this conversation for a long time.

“So,” I try to begin casually, “when exactly did you take up boxing?”

She huffs out a laugh and picks up the pace of her punches. If I don’t start soon, she’s going to be exhausted before I even warm up. I catch her glance over at me, her eyes doing a quick scan from my hair to the mat and then back as she continues punching like the bag personally offends her.

“I’m pretending these are filled with chocolates, and if I hit them hard enough, they’ll fly out like they’re shooting from a confetti cannon,” she replies in all seriousness. “And I started taking lessons a couple of years ago.”

Interesting. The timeline checks out for when she left my life.

“Well, I’ve heard that exercise can increase endorphins,” I say. The sound of her gloves hitting the bag is the only response. “Help the immune system.” Punch. “Lessen one’s anxiety.” Punch. Punch.

Truthfully, that’s why I started an intentional fitness plan after we broke up. But she doesn’t need to know that tidbit. “So, did you ever go exploring around the world like we . . .” I stop with an awkward pause. “Correction, you planned?”

Where did that come from? I punch the bag in front of me just to do something with my hands. The force of the bag connecting with my glove brings me a measure of relief. My last comment made me wince. Now, I think I may need to install one of these in my apartment or get a membership here if this is as therapeutic as I feel like it could be.

“No. I had other things come up. But I explore in other ways too,” Lily replies to my question forcefully, the reverberation of each punch accentuating different parts of her words.

“So do I,” I pant, trying to keep up with her. My muscles are warm, loosening with each passing minute. I feel the sweat across my forehead, my arms straining at the exertion.

Being in the same space as Lily sends my mind reeling. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to get her in the ring, but her determination to excel is my undoing. She sets her sights on something and goes for it, no questions asked. It hurts to realize that, in the end, she failed to do that for me.

“And now, you keep Rafe out of trouble.” She pauses, wiping the sides of her eyes with the back of her arm. The gloves look oversized on her, as if she got her hand stuck in something far too big but doesn’t mind that she got caught.

I reply with an easy smile and walk to where she stands. “He’s my best friend. I like protecting him.” I give the bag between us a quick jab, facing her, my own side of the gym abandoned. “Besides, he makes it easy. Especially because he is in love.”

Lily pauses a bit too long at the word. It hovers between us, and I freeze, staring into her deep eyes. She uses the break in my defenses to land a punch on the bag that knocks me back an inch. I know it’s only because I was distracted, but I let her take the win just the same.

We seem to have moved beyond the warm-up into full workout territory. She picks up the pace so much that I look over at Edgar for an indication of what to do. Is this even safe?

Her jabs at the bag end abruptly. Without a word, she hops into the ring in the center of the space—the boxing elephant in the room—and gives a jerk of her head to motion for me to follow. The slight give from the padding of the floor canvas takes some adjustment as it absorbs more than the shock of our movements. Lily taps my gloves before lifting her own up to chin height. She starts to throw punches just as my brain catches up with her intention to strike my hands through my gloves.

As the sound of her jabs reverberates throughout the space, Edgar glances up. He shrugs and goes back to typing on his computer. The fact that he knows her enough to know this isn’t abnormal makes me swing back in time to receive a punch from Lily so hard that I almost stumble backward from the force. Meanwhile, Lily’s arms are moving like tiny machines.

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