HER WORDS HAVE HAUNTED ME for days and the fucking ache in my chest only seems to grow. No matter how many times I hit the bag, hit my sparring partner, hit the ground, it doesn’t quell the urge to tear something in half. Nothing has ever made me so angry, so determined, so savage.
When I had her in my bed the other night, all the feelings I’ve had for her, the ones I’ve kept at bay and unacknowledged, suddenly became undeniable. I can’t be sure if she felt it, but in every touch, every kiss, every thrust, I felt it.
Any love I’ve ever felt for someone has in one way or another been a requirement. The love I feel for Lydia is the most organic, unaltered and natural feeling I’ve ever felt, and now I feel like I’m lost.
She told me one day that with Madison not there to talk to, to experience everyday life with, she felt lost, floating through life on a whim. That’s what I feel. Like I’m fucking floating from one place to the next, breathing in and out, going through the motions and trying my damnedest not to fall over the edge.
The only positive that’s come out of this is that I’ve never felt more ready for a fight before. There’s a small part of me that’s fearful of the damage I’ll do to this guy and the mark I’ll leave on the syndicate when I step out of the ring for the last time. I’ll be labeled a fucking joke. Most know I’ve never lost a fight, but suspiciously I lose the last one of my underground career? And it’s that last part that worries me about this whole deal. How do I know that this will be the last time Cameron comes calling?
In the position he’s in, he could come back, time and again, with whatever bullshit reason he comes up with. And how would it be any different than this? It would just be another battle I must fight and win to keep my head above water or my family safe.
He says he keeps his word, but there is no way I’ll ever know that to be true without taking this fight and in the end, taking the fall.
I stare down at the sink as the water swirls around the porcelain and down the drain, the similarity between it and my life seemingly on par with one another. My teeth slide against one another as the force of my jaw pressing together grows.
“The ol’ man said he’d be there at six. Better hurry your ass up.” Thorn, who’s stayed at my house for the last couple of nights, for what fucking reason I couldn’t say, yells from downstairs.
“Did you take Bruno around the block?” I yell back.
“Yes, sir.”
He’s taken him for short runs the last two mornings because I can’t go run the jogging path. Mine and Lydia’s schedules are too similar and it means the odds of us running into one another are high.
She made it real fucking clear she didn’t want to see me.
“Five minutes.”
The smell of this gym is burned into my brain. The feel of the mats under me feel as familiar as socks to the soles of my feet, but today, like gasoline to an already blazing fire. I knew I’d never be able to look at this place the same again. She’s here. She’s everywhere.
When we pulled up, Evan and Casper were already inside waiting. It could just be me, but having the old man here seems to have sparked him back to life a little. My needs were initially selfish, needing him beside the ring to guide me like he always has, but now it seems like requesting his presence is good for the both of us.
“Goddamn, Hammer. Are you trying to tickle him or break his ribs?” Casper says. A cocky smile spreads across Thorn’s face as he dances around the ring. I hate sparring with him. Hate it. Even training is a game to him. I’ll put it this way; nobody has to tell Thorn how good he is. There’s been plenty of times I’d like to do the big brother thing and give him a pat on the back, but he does that all by himself.
“Yeah, brother. You know I’m ticklish,” Thorn chuckles. When he drops his hands to look at Casper, I sweep his legs out from under him, dropping him to the mat and pinning his chest with my knee before he can look up at me. Sure, I’d love to punch him. Who wouldn’t. But we run a business together and I can’t afford him taking time off. “Get the fuck off me.” He’s quick to spit venom. I chuckle and pull him up.
“All right, enough screwing around. Hit the treadmill, then you’re done.”
I slip through the ropes of the ring and down to the floor. “What’s the next two days look like?” I ask.
“Conditioning only. Rest. Hit the bags, go for a run, but no sparring.”
“That it?” I pause wiping my face with a towel.
“You know the drill. That’s it.” Casper stands from the stool.
“So, fucking’s okay?” Thorn pipes up behind, laughing to himself.
“If there’s someone out there willing to fuck the little bastard, go for it.” Casper makes his way slowly toward the front. I glare at Thorn. The motherfucker knows there’s no one. I can’t even swallow the thought of her. If I do, I’ll taste all the ways I fucking miss her.
“Here, I’ll take you home. Let me pull my truck around.”
“You skipping out on the treadmill?”
“No, sir. I’m going to hit the running trail.”
“Well, all right. I’ll be up here.” He motions toward the front. I grab my bag and pull out my joggers to throw on over my shorts. As I pull my hoodie over my head, the fabric expands, releasing a scent that I’m unprepared for. A mix of Lydia and Liam washes over me and I hold my breath, realizing I haven’t worn this since the last time I was at her apartment.
Fuck.
I wasn’t ready for that.
After dropping Casper off, I stop by Celia’s and grab Bruno from the back yard to take him to Lakefront with me. I open the kitchen door and yell out, “Anybody home?”
“Yeah,” Jerry yells back from the living room. I walk in, Bruno following behind me. When I round the corner, Celia comes down the stairs, Jerry sitting in his recliner like always.
“Where you headed?” Jerry asks.
“Gonna take Bruno for a run. Casper said cardio only, so I’m following orders.”
“Good. I’m glad you came by, got something for you.” He pushes in the footrest and gets up from the recliner, walking around me and into the kitchen. Celia and I exchange a look, sure she’s as confused as I am. “Here.”
I turn and he hands me a jar. “What’s this?”
“Old school recipe. Fool proof. Take a hot soak before your fight, put this in it.”
I look up at him and nod. “Thanks.”
“And don’t be out raising hell either. Go home and stay there.”
“I have done this before. Remember?”
“Yeah, but you’ve never had a damn year between fights either.”
“I got it.” I’m thrown by his gesture. I can’t remember him ever giving me advice, so this is new. He returns to his seat and I look up at Celia whose eyes are notably wide. We walk into the kitchen.
“I was thinking about switching shifts with Martha on Sunday. Would you and Lydia be able to come for dinner?” The mention of her name from Celia’s lips makes me flinch. So much for getting in and out unscathed.
“I don’t think we can make it.”
“And just why not?”
“Because I haven’t talked to her in a week, and I don’t think she would be too keen on dinner at this point.” Mom steps around me, standing in front of me and keeping me from leaving through the side door.
“What happened? Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing, Mom. Leave it alone. Okay?” I turn, palms on the counter, praying she drops it.
“Okay. I’ll leave it alone, Stone. Because you’re hardheaded and I wouldn’t get anything out of you anyway. But I will say this; I saw the way you looked at that girl. Swallow that pride you’re so notorious for and open your eyes. Fight for something worth fighting over for a change.” She pats me on the back, turning to leave the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mom.”
I see her pause out of the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome, son.”
Bruno’s so damn excited he almost chokes himself on the damn leash when we get out at Lake Shore. I feel like shit for neglecting him, but I just wasn’t willing to risk the run in. Fuck that. I’m days away from the fight, seeing her would bring me back down to Earth. And seeing her wouldn’t be enough anyway.
“Chill out, dude,” I say, clipping his leash back on. “All right, look at me. No fucking around. No sniffing butts. We run.” I take the leash and he jumps down from the truck and we make our way to the running path.
The sun glaring off the snow-covered ground is blinding, but with the feel of the ground beneath my feet and Bruno’s tongue hanging out as we run down the path, I’d easily choose to lose my sight rather than stay indoors one more day.
I tell myself all the time that I need to move south a little because there are some months here in Chicago that is damn near impossible to sustain being outside. But we do it. And as much as I’d like to imagine being other places, this city is my home.
The path is packed with runners, tourists and couples walking snuggled to each other’s sides. It makes me feel Lydia’s absence beside me that much more. There haven’t been many times over the last month that I’ve run without her here, other than when her ankle was injured, and I feel out of sorts, out of place, a sudden implant in my own city.
I pick up my pace, Bruno keeping up to my side as I pull my gaiter facemask tighter over the bridge of my nose, the fierce air burning my nostrils. I don’t just feel like jogging, I feel like sprinting. Like running my ass off until my feet feel melded into the soles of my shoes. Like the only thing that will keep my mind off her and what could have been, is killing myself with each slap of my feet on this pavement.
Bruno starts easing farther and farther ahead of me until his leash stretches to its limit, forcing my grip to tighten around the end of it.
“Bruno, heel.” He doesn’t ease up. “Bruno, now. Heel.” I jerk on the leash but he keeps pushing onward, forcing me to increase my pace. When I’m running at my max speed, barely keeping up with him, it registers that he’s not just running, he’s tracking something.
Bloodhounds are known for their incomparable tracking skills. Used by forces all over the world to track missing people, drugs and whatever else in existence, bloodhounds are determined creatures when locked onto a scent.
So rather than stop him like I want, I try my best to keep up with him and see where he’s leading us. He doesn’t do this for other dogs or food or something insignificant, in fact, I can’t remember him ever doing this so aggressively. So, I know it must be something important.
I’m about ready to let the leash go and let him handle it on his own when he comes to a screeching stop off to the side of the trail by a tree. If his leash wasn’t as long as it is, I would have just decapitated myself on the lowest branch, but instead have enough time to catch myself.
Bruno takes long, slow and stilted sniffs of the small snow mound beside the tree before starting to dig. When the item in question comes free of the snow, Bruno sits, pawing at it until I bend to pick it up and see that it’s Liam’s bear—his mommy bear.
Lydia had made this bear for him and the shirt that it wears is made from Madison’s favorite concert tee. So, there’s no mistaking whose it is. It’s Liam’s and Lydia always makes sure it’s in the car seat or the stroller with him always.
I’m sure she’s freaking out looking for it.
I’m sure I need to leave and take it to her.
But I’m not sure that I can go there and see her and be able to turn around and leave.
I need to focus, I have a fight tomorrow.
Fuck the fight, I want to see her. I need to see her.
I want to hear her voice and hug her to me and smell her and kiss her and…
I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. I fucking love her and I want her there. I want to quit with these fucking games, but I want to come to her when I’ve fixed everything. When my plate is clean and there’s no baggage for her to claim in order to be with me.
I hold the tiny bear, the size of my hand. I stuff it into the front pocket of my hoodie.
Tomorrow, after the fight, I’ll go to her.
And I won’t make excuses or reason with what has or hasn’t happened.
I’ll make her mine and not leave room for doubt in either of our minds.