Page 42 of The Fight

“Focus on your core,” he comments.

I shake my head. “Now’s not the time to play coach.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask, right?”

Ignoring him, I throw a few more punches, each one harder than the last. Maybe it was a mistake coming here if he can’t shut the fuck up.

He chuckles, letting his grip on the bag loosen slightly. “Clearly, whatever pissed you off didn’t matter too much. You’re hitting like shit.”

“Don’t go there, dude. I just want to fucking sweat,” I reply.

I didn’t come here to talk or get to know one another. Maybe he missed that memo, though.

“Every moment in the ring or against a bag is a moment for learning. So what made you tick? Maybe if you can harness that shit, you wouldn’t be so distracted by pussy.”

I throw my fist out again, not even trying to stop it because I know exactly where it’s going. Only Blake sidesteps, letting the bag sway in front of his face to take the impact.

He nods slowly. “I knew it had to be that girl.”

I shake my head, my chest heaving. “Man, fuck you. You don’t know shit about me.”

Turning around, I swipe my shirt from the ground, then step toward the door and pull it open. As I march back to my Jeep, I can hear Blake call behind me, but I don’t stop.

“This is why you need some training, Shay! You can’t get pissed off every time someone brings up your sister!”

Throwing my door open, I slide inside. “Stepsister, jackass!” I yell, then slam the door.

Fuck Blake. Fuck our parents. And fuck this. I need a drink.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

BLAIR

The air feels thicker than normal, heavy with anticipation, as my mom and I stand outside the large doors of the church. I can hear the hum of soft music and the whispers of guests murmuring excitedly. Everything feels surreal.

Mom adjusts the lace of her dress one last time, and her hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm exterior she’s been trying to project. She stands a little taller, taking a deep breath as she straightens her veil one last time. I can tell she’s nervous—more than she’s let on the past few days—and it makes me wonder if she feels the same unease I do. Like this moment, this whole wedding, is a turning point.

I swallow hard and try to ignore the tightness in my chest as the doors finally open, and we start to walk. The truth is, as happy as I am for her, something about today feels off. Watching her walk down the aisle to Henry feels like I’m watching her slip further away. Not just from me but everything that’s felt familiar. There’s no way around it, though. Things are changing, and I’m not sure how to handle it.

And then there’s Shay.

I haven’t seen him since the fight with our parents. The last couple of days have been filled with short messages but no real conversation. He hasn’t come by, and he isn’t at his dad’s side like he’s supposed to be. Like he promised.

Hell, even the mysterious texts from the unknown number have stopped momentarily.

As we take our positions across from Henry, the music fades, and so does all the chatter. The minister’s voice booms through the room, and even though I held out hope, Shay still isn’t here. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I feel my chest tighten again.

Then, just as the vows are about to start, I hear the creak of the door in the back and footsteps following. I turn my head slightly, and my heart jumps into my throat.

Shay.

He stays toward the back of the room, standing there looking like he belongs but somehow doesn’t at the same time. He’s late—too late to stand by his dad—but he’s here.

I feel a rush of emotions as the vows start. Everything feels like it’s moving at warp speed, and the only thing that makes sense is to look at Shay. I try to focus on my mom and Henry, on the vows they’re exchanging, but my eyes keep drifting back to him.

The vows continue, but I barely catch the words. Henry’s voice shakes as he promises to love and cherish my mom, and I hear her voice crack as she repeats the same. It’s beautiful and everything I’ve wanted for her, but all I can think about is what this means for me and Shay.

He’s watching me, eyes locked in all the way across the room. The connection between us feels like it’s pulling me closer, daring me to throw caution to the wind. But I can’t reach him, not in this room. Not yet. I try and look away, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

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