Page 11 of The Penalty

“Yeah.”

“Has it helped?”

“I guess.”

“Xavier.” His tone softened to a nurturing, parental octave. “Forgiveness is some—”

“There is no chance in hell I’m forgiving him.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. Consider forgiving yourself for whatever happened between you and him and your then-girlfriend. Try giving yourself some grace.”

No matter how loud I turned the music up in the car on my drive to the gym, all I heard was the thump-thump-thump of my heart. I like this therapist but fuck all, he knows how to get under my skin. And if we’re being honest here, it angered me even more.

I didn’t need to forgive myself or give myself grace or whatever bullshit touchy-feely nonsense he spouted at me. I needed to protect the woman I love at all cost. And that meant doing whatever it takes to keep Jordan away from her.

Bennet was already inside the workout area when I arrived. I didn’t say anything to him at first. I prowled around the room, stewing in my annoyance.

“I’m going to kill him.”

The words came out of my mouth with such ease it shocked me.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Bennet didn’t even bother to glance in my direction. He was too busy stacking weights on the barbell for another powerlifting round. “Go do what Frances suggested and hit the fucking bag.”

“Not quite what I want to hit.”

Bennet sighed, rubbing his temples. “We’re not having this discussion again.”

I secured the wraps around my hands. “This isn’t about me or the shit that went down with—” I caught myself before continuing. “This is about Victoria. He’s not getting away with it.”

“And what do you plan to do?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Avenge your girlfriend and her dead twin with an impulsive decision that will ruin your relationship and not only get you kicked off the team but thrown out of the league? Not to mention you’ll lose your business, get arrested, and possibly hospitalized with a broken face.”

“He called her,” I yelled. “He found her and called her and…and I don’t know what else he’s going to do. I have to protect her.”

Bennet’s mouth flattened in a hard line. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not really your fucking problem.” Exasperated, I walked away. Anger and fear rolled through me. The anger was obvious. Fear? I’ll never admit to it.

But my past is threatening to seep through cracks I thought I’d sealed. The fallout would be manageable, I suppose. Unless said fallout included losing Victoria.

The fucking thing in my chest went haywire at the mere thought of not having her in my life. She’s my light. Without her, I’d be lost.

I can’t lose her.

I won’t lose her.

This unwanted concoction of emotions threatened to dismantle the control I needed to have over the situation. Otherwise, I’d lose my shit and take it out on the next person who looked at me sideways.

Instead, I took it out on the punching bag in front of me.

Over and over and over.

I hit it until my muscles burned, my hands ached, and sweat dripped down my brow into my eyes. This definitely wasn’t part of my normal routine of strength training, running sprints, and working on my agility and quickness. Punching the ever-living shit out of an inanimate object didn’t quite qualify as preparation for my next match.

But I figured I’d do what the good doctor said.

You don’t want to be suspended again, do you?

I toweled the perspiration from my face and grabbed some water.

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