Page 35 of The Chosen Two

To say “he kicks my ass” would be a gross understatement. When we’re done, I’m curled in a ball on the floor, gasping for air.

“Get up.” His voice is devoid of all the joy and warmth we’ve shared until now.

I have tears running down my face from the pain I’m in. He lowers his hand to help me up, but I hesitate to accept the offer.

“Miranda, I’m not going to hit you again. I promise.” Once I am standing, he looks at me, and his face softens a bit. “I needed to see what you were capable of without training. I told you I can’t take it easy on you.”

I don’t have enough air in my lungs for a retort. Although I’m barely on my feet, I’m holding my stomach and curling in.

“You’re not going to get any air in that way. Stand straight. I know it’s hard right now, but you’ll feel better. Trust me.” He moves my shoulders back, “I’m going to teach you how to breathe when you don’t think you can.” He tightens his abs and moves his arms in a sweeping motion that appears to physically open his lungs.

“Do this three times, when I say, Nogare… Nogare… Nogare…”

I do as he says, and by the third time, I can actually breathe again. So I smack him in the arm. “What the actual fuck, George?”

Now he can’t help but laugh as he shies away from my weak assault. “What? I told you I can’t take it easy on you.”

“There’s a difference between ‘not taking it easy’ and ‘almost killing me.’”

“I needed to see what you could do instinctively, without training. Now we know, it isn’t much…”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms, reminding myself of Jessie. “I could have told you that. You didn’t need to beat the shit out of me to find out.”

He’s laughing and smiling and truly enjoying this exchange. I’m seeing red, but his boyish giggling turns my red more to pink. Damn him.

He moves back to the middle of the room. “Show me your break fall again.”

I roll my eyes but do it, and it’s perfect. I climb back up to my feet, not super gracefully, but functionally, and faster than I could yesterday.

He lays an arm across his stomach and cups his chin with his other hand. “This is fascinating. You do that so much better than you did yesterday. Have you practiced?”

I grimace. “Not exactly.”

He circles me while he talks, as if inspecting a race horse he’s considering to purchase. “I didn’t think so. I don’t mean any offense! I just know you have four kids and no place dedicated for practice. Anyway, although your instincts are not as fully accessible as I’d hoped, I knew the odds of that were low. But I wonder if once something is taught to you, it wakes that part up of your background and you can just do it. Let me test something.”

And without warning, he shoves me from behind. I fall on my face. Hard.

“Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry! That’s not what I expected to happen! Are you okay?”

“George! What the fuck!”

“I guess you still need to be taught each technique individually. Good to know.”

“Fuck!” I push myself up. I must be a sight because he is shaking in silent laughter.

We spend the rest of our training time going over more break falls. I learn right side, left side, front hard, front soft, roll fall, and back roll fall. So by the time I leave, in theory at least, I won’t get injured being knocked to the ground. Or, ya know, tripping over myself. I guess that’s an improvement.

“Tomorrow we’re going to work on self-defense techniques. Then we’ll get into offensive stuff. Okay?”

I nod because it’s all I have the energy to do. Then, walking toward the door, he decides to sweep me so that I fall over to the side. I’m not expecting it, and apparently my instincts have not kicked in yet, because I yip and fall over. He catches me, one arm around my waist and the other grabbing my wrist that I framed in front of me. Some kind of static electricity buzzes between us in that moment, right when I know he won’t let me fall.

Then he stands me up and smirks. “You good?”

I roll my eyes and contemplate punching him, but I’m too tired to lift my arm. He pats me on the back and then nudges me toward my car, and as I drive home, I’m left wondering when I’ll be able to knock him on his ass. With that thought, I smile the whole way home.

***

When Jake comes home, I am almost asleep on my feet, stirring a pot of chili. His hands are all over me.

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