Page 56 of Greased

I notice the way his brow is furrowed but where it would normally, since last night, be in disinterest or in anger, it's concern. His eyes are gentle as they run over my face waiting for a reply.

I don’t know whether to be surprised that he is capable of an emotion other than broody or of the fact that he was the one to pull me out of my panicked state. I give him a curt nod but he doesn’t move away until he does one last check over my face, trying to find the lie. He stands up straight from his crouched position; almost instantly offering me a hand up. I take it without question. My limbs feel strange, like they arent my own. Nicky, Dacre, Pike and Sonny eventually walk over to where Dawson and I are staring at each other.

“Are you okaymi hermosa?” Sonny asks, his voice gentle. I don’t look over at him though as I rasp out a quiet, “Yes.”

I see him out of the corner of my vision give a questioning look towards Pike who just shakes his head. The four of them just stand there waiting for me to say something.

“I don’t know how I did that.” My voice is meek. Any strength I showed during our spar completely evaporated like it was never there in the first place.

“Muscle memory.” Is all Dawson says. I quirk a brow at him to continue. “While your brain completely forgot everything that you learned as a child, your body still remembered what to do. So when in a fight or flight situation, your body completely took over and you were able to take me down.” All concern for me completely drains fromDawson and in its place is something I struggle to decipher. Too many emotions mix into one. Maybe if he wasn’t so closed off all the time I would be able to work him out, but for once I am stumped.

Pike walks over and stands next to Dawson, “He’s right, Princess. You were a weapon when we were younger. You were never left behind from us in training. You were so determined even from a young age. I remember watching you take down one of the recruits when we were seven.” Pike’s eyes gloss over as he recounts the memory, “He was talking smack about your Dad during one of the training sessions. You saw red. Any disrespect towards Pres and it was like someone had lit a fire under your ass.” The five of them all laugh at that, “You took him down instantly. From that day on he never spoke shit again. It was impressive. You looked like this sweet little songbird, but you were really a little hellcat.”

I laugh at Pike’s description of me at that age. It does send a ping of pain through my chest. I’d do anything to have those memories back. To remember what I was like before. To who I was before. But being here is the best place I can be to reclaim some of my old life.

Even if I never get my memories back.

Iwatch Scarlett intently as the panic slowly ebbs away from her features. To say I was shocked at the way she so quickly overpowered me is an understatement. My balls still throb from her cheap shot but in all honesty, I can’t blame her. My shot at her was just as cheap.

When you see an opening, you’ve got to take it.

Didn’t make taking her down the way I did feel even more of an asshole than I already do. The amount of self-loathing I feel for myself after the way I have treated Scarlett today is deserved. She doesn’t deserve an ounce of my anger but I can’t help it.

Doesn’t she know just how fucking terrified we all were after what went down when we were kids? How the events that unfolded changed our genetic makeup?

That there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last ten years that I haven’t thought about that day. Replayed it over and over in my head. Berated myself for being a scared little boy. Regretted the factthat I didn’t grab one of the guns from the bloodied bodies that were scattered at the party and shoot one of those motherfuckers.

That day is the reason I train as hard as I do. It's the reason why I am so dedicated to our cause.

Its the exact fucking reason Scarlett needs to go home.

It would destroy us if something happened to her again. But I know that this time, we won’t get lucky. She has no idea what she is doing. At least back then she had actual training behind her. Admittedly, she was only a kid but at least she had an awareness about her. Now, she has no idea.

Scarlett takes a breath and I feel as though I take one with her. Even though the fight has been drained from her body I still see a determined look in her eye. One I know all too well.

“Ready to keep sparing then?” She tries to brush off her panic attack like it's nothing but I can tell how tired she is by the way her shoulders have completely sunken. Even though I only spent a month with this new Scarlett, I have memorised her tells almost instantly. Just an inkling to how fucking obsessed I am.

Because underneath all of the bravado, is a man that is irrevocably in love with the woman standing in front of him.

I don’t know why I am fighting it so hard. I could have my girl in my arms. Safe. Where she should be. I long for the feeling of her against me again. I fucking ache for it. Having her so close to me while we were sparring felt right.

I don’t bother with a verbal reply, instead just giving her a brisk nod. I feel a bit of satisfaction as I watch as she rolls her eyes. There’s still a hint of a spark in my girl. I don’t think anything could dull it. Except maybe me, if I keep on this track I’m heading down. But the will tocare just isn’t there. The need to keep her safe is. It fuels me. I know it's not something I can do while my soul focus needs to be on taking down the rings. It’s easier to push her away. It's better that I treat her like she never mattered. If her hating me is the only thing that will keep her safe, so be it.

Pike, Sonny, Dacre and Nicky all go back to their mats after having rushed over to Scarlett. I can’t help being pissed off. Coddling her isn’t going to make her stronger if this is where both Pres and Rhodes seem determined for her to be. She needs to be able to stand on her own two feet.

I don’t miss the way Nicky eyes me for a moment longer. I have felt his eyes on Scarlett and I the entire time we have been over here. He’s waiting for me to hurt her. While it's obvious I’m stupid enough to break her heart, I could never physically hurt her.

As we step onto the mat, Scarlett mimics my previous fighting stance. I decide against a proper sparring session. I want to push her limits but even I know when to call time. I turn my back without a word and grab a set of punch mitts and hand wraps. I throw the wraps at her which she catches.

“Wrap your hands,” I say, fitting the mitts onto my hands. I watch as she slowly starts wrapping her hands. It's obvious she has no idea of what she is doing but I commend her for the effort. I made a note to teach her how to wrap them properly. I'm not interested in dealing with broken hands.

I wait for her to finish, taking in my fill as I wait. Scarlett’s entire focus remains on her hands. Her brow is furrowed slightly in frustration and concentration. She seems smaller than she was back in Australia. It hits me then; has she not been eating properly?

I can’t stop the way my emotions riot. I feel the colour slowly drain from my face at the realisation of what we had done. What I did.

We did that to her. We hurt her so fucking deeply that she hasn’t been eating properly. That her body has suffered because we couldn't send a single fucking message letting her know that we were done.

If I could hate myself anymore in a single moment, it would be then. My eyes remained glued to her collarbone. Like I am storing the image away for when I need a reminder of why I don’t fucking deserve her but why I will always want her.

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