Page 9 of Chasing Shadows

I wince, my hand going automatically to rub the tattoo on my left pec. A lily for Mum.

Tom runs a hand over his face. “We’ve had a shit run of it, Harley; I’m not going to sugarcoat it. But I’m just trying to make the best out of a shit situation. Conrad’s not to blame in any of this. If anything, he’s had it worse than us. Principal Foster was an asshole, and can you imagine finding out your real dad signed you away before you were even born? Be mad at Dad. I get that. But you, me, and Conrad? We don’t have to be mad at each other.”

I stare at my brother. That was the most I’ve heard him say ever. Tom is a man of very few words. He’s always been the quieter one of the two of us. The loner, I guess. I never really thought anything of it. But to hear him talking about Conrad like he was one of us has me clenching my fists. Conrad has no idea what it was like to grow up like us. He comes from money. He doesn’t know what it was like to go without, what it was like to work hard to get somewhere in life. Everything was handed to that fucker on a silver platter.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the gym. “Just give it a try. You might find it helps.”

I give a non-committal grunt, but I follow him out of the car. We’re twenty minutes out of town; it’s not like I’m in the mood for running home.

A Drake song is pumping through the speakers when we walk through the door. My eyes rove the open space in front of me. There are ten cages directly in front, punching bags hanging along the wall to the left, and a range of treadmills, bikes, and elliptical trainers along the windows to the right.

Tom approaches a bald-headed guy roughly twice our age, standing beside the closest ring. They greet each otherwith a grin and the older man pulls my brother in towards him, slapping him on the back. I tuck my hands in my pockets as I hover behind Tom. “Harley,” he says when he steps back from the guy. “This is Steve, he’s one of the owners of Knockout Fitness. He’s going to put us through our paces.”

I nod at Steve. His calculating gaze washes over me. “You ever been in a cage before?”

I shake my head.

“Fights?”

I shrug. “I’ve had my ass handed to me once or twice,” I tell him, ignoring the grimace on Tom’s face when he realises I’m talking about our half-brother laying into me when he first found out I was dating his sister.

“Right,” Steve nods gruffly. “Well, let’s see what you can do.”

MUSCLES I DIDN’T even know existed are screaming at me an hour later when I collapse on the floor, a sweaty, sore mess. I hate to admit it, but Tom was right. I did feel good, and my mood improved after the intense work-out. I don’t know if it’s the endorphins running through my veins or the fact that while I was listening intently to Steve’s directions, I wasn’t thinking about all the ways my life has become a shit show.

“You’ve got good form, kid,” Steve says, tossing a towel at me. I snatch it out of the air and wipe it over my face. “Idon’t know how the other guys got the jump on you, but I can see some real potential.”

The otherguy, singular, being Conrad, got the jump on me by hitting me cheaply from behind. By the time I knew what was happening, I didn’t even have a chance of fighting back. I don’t tell him or Tom that, though. There’s enough baggage without me bringing it up.

“Would you be interested in joining up? I reckon with a bit of training, we’d have you in the cage in no time,” Steve continues.

Tom offers me his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. “He’s interested.”

I let out a huff of annoyance and narrow my eyes at him. “Hecan speak for himself.”

Tom holds his hands up in defence, while Steve arches his brow. “Look, kid. I’m not bustin’ ya chain. If you’re interested, it’s going to be a lot of hard work and dedication. Your body is going to be sore, but it’ll be worth it. I’m gonna be straight up with ya, though: fighting requires focus. Anyone who gets in the cage without their head on straight, they’re gonna lose. Distraction equals dire consequences in the ring.”

Tom nudges me. “What have you got to lose?”

I stare at him incredulously. What have I got to lose? How about my good looks when I get my face rearranged by someone? My pride when I get my ass beat? I’m not a professional fighter. Steve obviously has no idea what he’s talking about.

On the other hand, with all the family shit going on andEllie leaving, I need something to distract me from the shit show my life has become. It would also keep me busy and be a good excuse for avoiding Ivy and Conrad.

“Yeah, whatever. Count me in, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t look too impressed with my unenthusiastic response, but he just grunts and waves over a guy who looks to be in his early thirties. “This is Zeke. You’ll be working with him for two hours every morning, Monday to Friday. Five, sharp. He’ll also get you sorted with a meal plan. On top of that, you’ll do your own cardio–at least an hour and a half each day. You’ll be with me and the other beginners every Sunday morning at seven.”

“Bit early for a Sunday, isn’t it?”

“I told you it’s going to take dedication. You think you’ve got what it takes? I’m not going to waste my time on someone who’s not going to work hard.”

I push my sweaty hair off my face. “Yeah, alright.”

Zeke grins and slaps me on the back. “Welcome to the team, mate.”

Tom’s in an irritatingly cheery mood when we walk back out to the parking lot. I scowl at him as I climb into the passenger’s side of his ute. “What the fuck’s got you so happy?”

He laughs. “I’m no happier than usual; it’s not my fault you’re walking around in a salty mood twenty-four-seven. I was hoping this would pull you out of your funk, and I was right.”

---