Page 4 of Mending Scars

Grunting through it, I did a couple more reps before pushing the bar up and racking it. Sweat coated my skin as I sat up and reached for my water. I chugged back what was left in the bottle as I got up and headed for the water fountain.

After refilling my bottle, I headed back to my bench and grabbed the dumbbells next to my gym bag. I should’ve picked a lighter weight for my right arm, but that stubborn side of me couldn’t swallow his pride. Fifties weren’t that heavy anyway.

Settling back on the bench, I planted my feet, then extended my arms out in front of me. Keeping them straight, I brought them out to the sides before bringing them back to their starting position.

I completed a few reps before I cramped up. I dropped both weights, sending them clanging to the floor before sitting up and reaching for my chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Hissing in pain, I stretched out my right arm and rubbed the muscle above my scar with my other hand. I clenched and unclenched my fist as I waited for the pain to subside.

Once it finally did, I rotated my shoulder several times to try and alleviate the lingering ache and tightness. Grabbing my towel, I wiped the sweat from my face and angrily stood. Frustration flooded me as I snatched my bag off the ground and headed for the kickboxing room.

You’re stronger than this. What the fuck is your problem?

I dropped my shit on the floor once I entered the studio. I didn’t even bother getting gloves; I still had wraps around my hands from that lame excuse for a workout.

I chose one of the heavier bags and started doing combinations, ignoring the tension in the right side of my chest and shoulder. I put most of my power into my punches with my left arm and my kicks.

I didn’t stop until my lungs screamed for air. Both my arms burned as I walked to grab the water bottle I’d dropped next to my bag. I chugged the liquid back, drinking until nothing was left.

Most of my anger had been taken out on the bag, but there was still some lingering frustration as I caught my breath. I needed to compose myself before my next training session, which was in fifteen minutes.

My phone sounded with a text. I swiped my password and the message from Kaiya automatically popped up. My lips curved into a smile as I read her text:

Warrior: Miss you <3

As I typed back my response, I felt the majority of my anger lifting from just thinking about Kaiya.

Me: Miss you too baby

After sending the text, I went back to my office to ice down my injury—or handicap—as I thought of it. The physical therapists said those muscles might never be the same again, but I was determined to prove them wrong.

I was still a little irritated for the rest of the day until Kaiya walked into the kickboxing studio for class. The remaining frustration weighing me down evaporated when I saw her beautiful face and bright, blue eyes.

My Warrior.

She was the first one there, as usual. It had become a routine for Kaiya to get there early so we could talk about our day and have some time to ourselves before class started. When we reached each other, I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her feet off the ground as I kissed her.

“How was your day?” I asked when I set her back down.

“Swamped—we have three new projects that we just started working on this week. How about you?”

I shrugged. “It was okay.”

She gave me a knowing look, quirking up one eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. “Okay?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Nope, now tell me,” she demanded, trying to keep a stern, straight face as a smile fought its way through.

“Nothing big—I just cramped up during my workout. Bothered me for most of the day.”

Her eyes went to my chest where my scar was, and her forehead creased in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go back to the physical therapist.”

I definitely did not want to go back to therapy.They’d limit my workouts, and I was already going easy to begin with. Well, for me, at least.“I’m fine. It was more annoying than anything.”

That was a lie—my chest and shoulder hurt from earlier; they always did. The bullet had ripped through muscles around my shoulder blade in the back, as well as nerves in my chest that connected up to the top of my shoulder. There was always a dull, constant pain that never went away.

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