Chapter 8: “Don’t be afraid to try again.”

Kenny

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Thursday morning the fist was back. It clenched hard in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I needed to hit something.

Yesterday, I hadn’t even gotten out of bed. After crying myself into a fitful sleep, I woke up screaming, feeling calloused hands gripping my arms to my sides. I threw my blankets back and went straight to the shower. Standing under the scalding-hot water, I scrubbed until my skin was red and tender. It helped remove the sensations, but it was hours before I could relax again. When I’d opened my eyes, it was after five. Mariska had texted me a few times and left a voicemail once.

Are you coming in? Was her first message, sent around ten. It was followed by I’m guessing you’re not, around noon.

I rolled onto my side and listened to her voice on my phone. “Hey, I’m worried about you. I wish you’d call or at least text. Rook thinks you caught a stomach bug, and Tammy covered your clients. Just call or text me, okay? Love ya.”

Disconnecting, I shot her a quick reply. Will be in tomorrow. Thanks for covering for me. Don’t feel like talking.

The only vehicle in the lot when I arrived was an old junker Ford someone had abandoned. Pushing through the glass doors, I made a point of taking the lanyard out of my cubby so everyone would know I was here before heading to the small boxing room, ready for my early-morning drill. My hair was up in a ponytail, and I had on my usual black spandex capris and black tank. I didn’t have gloves, only the gel hand wraps that came with the equipment.

The closer I got, however, I heard the dull thud of what sounded like gloves hitting a bag. Rounding the corner, I froze in my tracks. His back was to me, shoulders up and chin down, and his feet moved lightly as his fists slammed into the canvass body bag in front of him.

He was shirtless, and he was ripped. Every muscle in his shoulders and back flexed with his strikes. The lines in his stomach deepened along with those on his arms. The gloves inked on his biceps read, Never stop fighting. Only, from what I could see, the fight was either keeping him alive or killing him.

Perfect form, fists at eye level, his punches flew straight to the center. Quick, precise, sharp. He moved like a professional. He was a professional. My duffel slid from my shoulder, amazement mixing with something else, low in my stomach, as I watched. He was beautiful.

He didn’t see me, so he didn’t stop. Ice blue eyes focused through his furrowed brow on something invisible. His fists were like cannons. He moved out, then he moved back in, shooting three to four swift hits before moving out again.

Right jab, left jab, left hook, out.

Left jab, right jab, left hook, right jab, out.

My breathing picked up as I understood what he was doing. Tension rippled off him in waves as he fought with something unseen. It was a fight I knew well because it was the same one I’d waged every morning for almost a year.

His intensity increased with each strike, and the wings inked down his back flexed like they were trying to escape whatever held him. I wanted to step forward and lay my palms flat against his skin. I wanted to feel the strength of those swift, strong blows. I wanted to close my eyes and merge our arms and see if I could feel the power of his fists, see if they would unlock my own pain and release it.

His punches increased in speed and ferocity, fists shooting forward so fast, they became almost a blur as he pummeled the bag. His furrowed brow creased, and I heard a low growl rising in his throat.

Jab after jab, punch after punch, I lost count there were so many moving so fast until he let out a loud noise and jerked away toward the cinder block wall, banging the sides of his fists against it just under the rectangular window at the ceiling.

His head rested on his gloved fists a moment, his breath coming in gulps. Sweat traced the lines down his torso stopping at the black shorts he wore, and I couldn’t help breathing fast with him.

I wasn’t sure if I should speak or leave. I felt like I’d walked in on something incredibly personal, almost like when I caught Rook and Tammy in the shower. My heart was flying in my chest—only in this case, I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to stay.

Finally, I found my voice. “I-I um... I’m sorry to interrupt.”

He looked back over his shoulder, those blue eyes meeting mine, stopping my heart. In a quick move, he scooped up a maroon tank and dropped it over his head before turning to face me. I could see the tops of letters inked in a half circle right at his collarbones, but I couldn’t make out what it said. Why hadn’t I read that? I’d been too overwhelmed by the intensity of his fight.

“Sorry.” His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know anybody came in this early.”

Unable to hold his gaze, I tried to smile as my eyes moved from his square jaw, past the line down the center of his chin, to his muscular arms.

“I’m the only one who does.” My voice was higher in contrast to his. “I missed a few days, but I try to get my workout in before the members arrive.”

He grabbed a towel off another bench, and I noticed a small bottle of cheap, generic water and a bundle of what had to be his clothes. “I’ll get the locker room cleaned before you need it. If you’re okay?”

In that one phrase, recognition almost knocked me down. I was back on the beach. It was dark and I couldn’t stop shaking. Still, in that place of darkness as I struggled not to cry, all I wanted was the man who’d come out of nowhere and saved me to put his arms around me and hold me until my fear subsided.

My eyes flew to his, but he didn’t seem to realize. Did he not know it was me?

“I-I’m okay,” I said, and that’s when I saw it flash in his eyes. Now he knew.

My heart beat unbearably fast, but he didn’t speak, he only clutched his things and headed towards the locker rooms.

Turning in the direction he’d left, my will to exercise was gone, and now something entirely different tightened my chest. Picking up my bag, I walked slowly toward the front, looking around for him. He was in the supply closet taking out the mop and bucket along with the plastic signs for the floor and door.

“Are you Slayde?” I asked when he came back out.

He paused, but I could tell he wasn’t fully committed to speaking to me. “Yes.”

“I’m Kenny. One of the trainers here.”

He looked up at me then, and my chest squeezed. Emotion sizzled just under my skin, and I had to blink away. Somehow I’d have to learn to meet those amazing blue eyes without forgetting where I was.

“Nice to meet you.” His voice was low. “Sorry I interrupted your workout.”

“No,” I shook my dark-purple ponytail. I didn’t want him to apologize. I didn’t want him to hold me at a distance. We were legions past that point, even if we were only just now exchanging names. “You didn’t interrupt me. I mean, I could still work out. I just... I wanted to speak to you.”

He waited, and I couldn’t tell if he was impatient or uncomfortable, so I stepped back. “I’ll let you do your job.”

His lips twitched as if he were about to say something, but instead he started down the hall, through the doors in the direction of the locker rooms. I collapsed against the counter, watching him go, trying to calm the tornado swirling in my chest.