Page 12 of Until You're Mine
An expert at changing the subject myself, I recognized her diversion tactic. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll accuse me of being a thug again.”
She dropped her head back and sighed. “I said I was sorry. And thanks again for helping me get into my car and for not saying anything.”
Again? I must’ve missed the first time she thanked me, but I didn’t think I’d win many points by calling her out. Since the answer was also the happiest part of my childhood, I didn’t mind revealing a bit. “Just reserve your judgment until the end of the story, okay?”
“No promises,” she said, a cute half smile on her face. She had this sexy beauty mark above her lip, which naturally led my attention right to her mouth.
No going there.“I was a typical foster kid. Shuffled around a lot, constantly in trouble, and I got into my fair share of fights.”
“What exactly is a fair share when it comes to fighting?”
“Enough that threats of juvie and boot camp were hanging over my head, and I’d already accepted my fate that I’d end up at one of them, so I figured I might as well go big and deserve it.” My lungs tightened. I hadn’t told my story to many people, but it’d never made me…whatever this mushy sensation filling my chest was called, and I wanted to plow on through as quickly as possible. “But then I moved to a new house, with a new couple. Admittedly, I was a little asshole.”
She nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, and without a hint of surprise. “Sounds like you.”
I leveled a look on her, and she laughed and then mimed zipping her lips. “But Tammy…” I shook my head. “She’s one of those ladies who just won’t give up, even when she should. I’d gotten in my third fight at school, and I was sure that would be the last straw. I’d even started packing the few items I had to my name, mostly hand-me-down clothes. But then she came in and told me she’d enrolled me at a gym, and I could punch to my heart’s content while I was there, but that the instant I stepped out of line, my lessons would be done.
“Since I was a punk, I rolled my eyes. But then I walked into that gym for the first time…” When I searched for happy memories, that one stood out as one of the brightest. “The guys there were so awesome, and I got all my aggression out on punching bags. Or in sparring matches, where afterward, I’d bump gloves with the guy and we’d share a laugh. It was the first time I’d felt a sense of belonging somewhere. It was, in short, life changing.”
It was also life changing when the only person who’d believed in me—even when I least deserved it—got sick. I’d thought the people around me, from my manager to my team and my girlfriend, were my family. But when I couldn’t get my head in the fight and those losses started stacking up, the novelty wore off and they left me behind.
I’d never forget that moment in the locker room after loss number two, when my girlfriend Jacquie squatted across from me. I thought she’d say something encouraging, tell me it’d be okay—hell, maybe even wipe away the blood dripping from the cut on my eyebrow that had popped back open. Instead, she’d said, “I’m not sure I can do this anymore. You’re heading nowhere fast, and since it doesn’t even seem like you care…” She’d hesitated. “Do you even care that you just lost that fight?”
I shrugged. “Not really.” A distant part of me did, sure, but caring required feeling and I was numb. My mom hadn’t been there in the audience, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how she might never be there again, and nothing seemed to matter after that.
“Then I’m getting off the ride before it crashes.” The sound of her heels echoed across the locker room and then she was gone. Those were her final words, and she was one of the few people who actually knew my mom had cancer.
And I didn’t know how I got down this sad path, but it was time to shove away thoughts of the past.
When I glanced at Brooklyn, her eyes were leveled on me. I thought she’d ask for more details, or say something overly sentimental or pity-filled, and just the thought of that made me want to stand up and hit the punching bag until adrenaline replaced the weaker emotions hanging out in my chest.
“That makes me feel like a selfish princess for the resentment I’ve held toward some of Dad’s fighters through the years,” she said. “They probably needed him more than I did, but they got the lion’s share of his attention and I got scraps.” She twisted the end of her ponytail around her finger. “I’ve never really said that out loud.”
“I think there’s something in the air. Truth serum or some shit.”
Her smile kicked me in the gut. Then she looked around the room again. “I was so determined to get away from this world that I cut out as much of it as I could, even things I loved, like that surge of adrenaline that accompanies a solid hit, and how each punch I land makes me feel stronger. I kind of regret that now.”
“It’s not too late. You’re strong. My hand’s still stinging from your punches.”
She narrowed her eyes, not buying my bullshit even though I sincerely meant the strong compliment. Form was half the battle, and she had that down pat. She fiddled with the neon pink laces on her colorful tennis shoes. “I also worry I might regret dipping a toe back in, though. This world tends to suck you in, chew you up, and spit you out.”
I knew that better than anyone. “Yeah, but those highs…there’s nothing like it.” Since this had steered into more serious territory than I meant it to, I was the subject changer this time. I pushed myself to my feet and extended a hand to her. “Shall we move to some light sparring? Maybe throw in a few takedowns?”
“I think we shall. But first, I need to know what this says…” She lifted up my arm and read the small line of script inked on my biceps.Pain into power.
“I didn’t choose the message,” I said. “It came with my bad boy starter kit, and I just wanted to be a memberso bad.”
She added pursed lips to her head tilt, as if she didn’t think I was funny, even though the smile that broke free proved she did—and if she was going to smile like that, I’d make a lot more jokes in the future. Then she said, “I like it,” dropped my arm, and pulled on a set of grappling gloves.
I put on a pair as well, and then returned to the center of the ring. “Just remember, on top of the three hours of training I’ve already put in, I had to do an extra hour, since evidently you were never going to leave the gym.”
She circled me. “Are you seriously already making excuses about why I’m going to kick your ass?”
“No, I was giving you tips. My reflexes won’t be as quick, and you can use my weight against me.”
“I think you’re attempting to talk me to death.”
Her feistiness was a hell of a turn-on, and a different type of adrenaline than usually accompanied my sparring matches coursed through my veins. “Bring it on, then, bruiser.”
