Page 41 of The Fight

SHAY

Ipull up to the gym, the engine of my Jeep humming under me, but I barely hear it over the thoughts rushing in my mind. It’s still caught in the mess back home—Blair, our parents, all the bullshit that just transpired. I can’t remember the last time I felt this frustrated. This angry. I’m pissed, but there’s also this gnawing sense of confusion lacing it all too.

Turning my keys, I pull them out of the ignition and step out of my car. I slam the door with more force than I should, then march to the doors. The only thing I can think to do right now is fight. Either a person, a punching bag, or even a fucking wall. I don’t care. I just need to get these emotions in check.

It was easier when Blair was there. She has this weird way of making me feel calm without even trying, but as soon as I left her, every ounce of frustration came back. I can’t be reckless, though. I need to stay in check. Especially if I want to figure out how the fuck we’re going to fix this and move forward.

Making it to the doors, I reach for the handles and pull. Only, they don’t open like normal. I try again. And again. And again. Each time, my anger rises even more because the door doesn’t budge.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

I kick the base of the door and step back. Glancing around, I notice the parking lot is damn near empty other than a few cars way in the back. Of course nothing would go the way I need it to right now.

Turning back around, I head toward my Jeep, ready to drive off somewhere else to work off my anger. The sound of footsteps falls in line behind me, though, and makes me stop in my tracks. Turning back around, I see Blake.

“Gym closed for the night?” he asks.

It feels weird that he’s here, but I don’t question it too much. “Looks like it. I just needed to work off some more steam. It’s been a rough day, you know? Lots of shit hit the fan all at once.”

Blake gives me a quick nod like he gets it. “Yeah. Sometimes you need to get away from everything and just do something.”

I glance over at the locked doors again, still not sure where to go from here. I could drive around, hit the beach, but I don’t want to. I want the gym. I want the sweat, the focus, the clarity.

Blake seems to sense my hesitation and steps forward. “My place is nearby. Small gym setup, nothing fancy, but it’ll work. You wanna come by?”

The offer catches me off guard for a second. I look at him, weighing the options. I don’t really trust the guy fully yet, but right now, I’m not in the mood to turn down the chance to get the anger out of me. Ineedit.

“Alright, fine. Lead the way, and I’ll follow.”

He nods again. “Great.”

He heads for his car, and I head for mine.

The drive to Blake’s place is quieter than I expected. I follow his car through narrow streets, the neighborhood growing more and more secluded the further we go. The houses start to thin out, and the road gets less paved, winding through trees and untrimmed bushes. It’s the kind of area that feels a little off-grid.The kind of place if you didn’t know where you were going, you’d never find it.

Blake’s car slows and pulls into a small clearing, and I follow, parking behind him on the grass. I kill the engine and stare out at the place in front of me. It’s a decent-sized property. The house is a modest one—nothing extravagant or over-the-top like mine, but it’s nice. White-paneled sides, gray shutters, and a porch to match, complete with white wooden chairs. The lights from the inside spill out onto the front porch. No signs of excess here. Just a house that looks lived-in, a home.

Blake steps out of his car and motions for me to follow. I do the same and head behind him toward the garage off to the side. As my shoes crunch along the grass, I take in the rest of the area. I notice a shed further down the property near the water. It’s small, old, and seems a little out of place compared to the main house, but its flickering light above the door catches my attention.

I stare at it for a moment, curiosity tugging at the back of my mind. What the hell does he keep out there? But Blake doesn’t seem to notice my distraction. He keeps walking, leading the way to the garage.

The overhead door is open, revealing a simple but functional workout setup. There are a few free weights, a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling, a pull-up bar, and a couple of mats scattered on the floor. It’s everything I need.

“Like I said,” he starts, gesturing around the room. “It’s nothing fancy, but it gets the job done.”

“I don’t mind it. Works for me.”

He nods, then steps toward the door and pulls it closed. It seals with a soft thud, and immediately, the space feels smaller. The hum of the lights above fills the silence for a second, and something about that alone makes me feel a little more at ease—a little less angry. The simplicity of it all feels like a relief. A placewhere I don’t have to think about anything except what’s in front of me.

Blake walks over to the heavy bag, adjusting the straps, then gives me a sideways glance. “Well, get your blood flowing.”

I scoff and step up to it, clenching my fists a few times before I start throwing light jabs.

“Really? You had such a shit day, and that’s all you got?” he mocks, stepping up to hold the bag in place.

I shake my head, reaching behind me and pulling the collar of my shirt, bringing it over my head, then throwing it to the ground. “Hold it steady.”

Throwing my fist out, I connect with it again. The impact is solid, but the bag shifts with the force, making me adjust my stance. I take another shot, more focused this time, and the bag sways slightly, but Blake doesn’t budge.

---