Page 47 of The Chosen Two

I stop abruptly and turn to face him, beyond annoyed with the men in my life. “What the—? Why? How can you—?” They are barely even words. My face flushes and my hands flex and clench because I know it would be very bad to sucker punch my karate instructor. I pause to try and regain my composure. “You literally showed up at my door one day, telling me how we are spiritually connected and pulling me into this shit show of a world. Now things are targeting my husband, and you’re telling me I can’t feel angry about it? Grow the fuck up, George.”

He nods to himself, probably thinking I’m insane, as he paces in a circle around me. “Did you make your playlist? This seems like a day you’ll need music to get out of your head, and out of your own way.”

“Yeah, I sent it to you before I came in.”

He takes his phone out and fiddles with it for a few moments. I shadow box in my spot, trying to shake out some of this energy. Then my playlist comes on over speakers that must be hidden around the room. It is a mix of powerful female singers and musicians, artists that make me feel powerful myself. I close my eyes and let the anger in the music wash over me as the singer sings about her bad reputation. The validation of the lyrics feels so good.

When I open my eyes, George is across from me. “You okay?” His jaw is set, but there is something a little softer in his eyes.

“Do you even care?”

“No, not really. Ready to spar?” Though his words are cold, his brow remains low with concern. “Okay, let’s begin.”

I jump into guard stance. We touch fists, as is custom, and I launch myself after him. My round kick gets his sciatic on my first try, and I follow up that attack with a left upper cut to his abdomen and a knee kick to his now dropped chin. My eyes dilate and my pulse quickens. I can’t believe I’m finally beating the shit out of him! But it doesn’t even feel like enough to turn around my mood. Not yet anyway.

“Wow, Miranda. I’m going to piss you off every time we train. You are so much better when you’re mad.”

“Whatever.” I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet as if I’m half my size. The aches in my knees correct me. I ignore them. “Can we keep going, or you want to have a whole conversation?”

Round after round goes that way. My kicks and punches keep connecting with him. It’s beautiful. Maybe he’s right. Maybe there is something to getting angry before I fight. Twenty minutes later, he calls for a water and rest break. I keep pacing while he takes a few small sips and does some breathing exercises.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with you today?”

I laugh. “Oh, now you care? You can’t be serious.”

“I always care. I’m sorry. I told you, Iwantto be your friend—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But youneedto be my teacher. I get it.” I can’t stop pacing even with the exhaustion setting in from our extended sparring round.

George takes a step toward me. “Do you? Do you really? Because this can’t just be a hobby to you.”I stop walking and gape at him, hands on my hips. “Iact like it’s just a hobby? Really? Because I’m the one actually living with this shit. And now it’s threatening my family, whomyousaid would be in no more danger than the world at large.” I’m jabbing my finger into his chest when I finish.

“So this does have to do with Jake. How so?” Massaging his pec, he steps back as he talks, so my finger can’t do any more harm.

I drop my hand and look into his eyes. “I’m not sure I should answer that question. I don’t know what’s onlywork-relatedanymore.” I know I sound like a brat when I snarl that last sentence at him. But I don’t care.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go again.”

“Fine. You’re the one that needed a break.” I bounce on my toes a bit to make sure my muscles are still awake.

And so we continue. I don’t know how long we’re sparring again when the music switches to a country song about the revenge the singer is getting on her ex as he cheats on her. Something in me deflates. My power maybe? My strength? Or maybe just my will.

George’s expression softens. “What’s with this song? It doesn’t charge you up like the rest. It seems to be doing just the opposite.”

“It normally does. These lyrics just hit a little too close to home today is all.” I walk away to get a drink, so I don’t have to see the pity I’m sure is on George’s face.

“Well, you need to be able to handle emotions like this when you’re fighting out there, in the real world.”

“The real world? The one where fairies and unicorns actually exist you mean?” I roll my eyes. “I’ll take my chances.” I’m not facing him. I can’t. I pretend to be drinking, but I’m trying not to cry.

“Don’t take too much. You’ll throw up.” His voice is warm and soft. I wonder for a moment if he would let me in, if I could talk to him about Jake. Would George be a friend and let me lean on him while I cried? Or would he continue to be cold and hard like the marble he looks to be cut from?

Finally, I feel ready to go back to sparring. I replace my bottle of water on the floor next to his and straighten back up. I walk slowly and deliberately back to the floor and almost casually position myself in guard stance.

“Hajime.” His tone is as relaxed my approach.

I whirl toward him, planning to do a spinning back fist to his jaw, but he sweeps me, and I fall over. I close my eyes, ready to break fall on impact the way I’ve learned, but he catches me. He doesn’t let me fall. Then he swallows hard, stands me up, and turns away to collect his water and phone. He talks to me over his shoulder, as if he can’t bear to look at me. The music cuts off.

“We’ve trained enough today.” George grabs our bottles of water and heads toward the door. He calls backward, “We need to have a chat.”

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