Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
DEAN
M y head is filled with thousands of buzzing bees, humming to the insane harmony of the words she spoke to me.
PJ is yours.
I have a son. A son she stole from me. How could she do that? Why?
I’m spiraling—my emotions flopping between anger, betrayal, and hurt. For hours. Ever since I stormed out of her house. Two of those hours were spent just sitting in the car, staring at her door while my grandparents were inside, spending time with my son.
Fucking saints, I’m a father. I’m not qualified for that. There’s no fucking way a brute like me could—or should—reproduce. I’m damaged goods. Always have been. The boy no one loved. Not even his mother. I can’t raise a kid. Maybe Juliette was right to keep him from me. I only bring ruin.
The anger in my chest morphs to guilt and shame. She kept him from me because of what I did—because of my assumptions. All of this is my fault. If I had just kept my stupid mouth shut, she’d still love me. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I don’t know what to do. But I could really use a drink right now.
“Margot, I’m going to drop you off,” my grandfather says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I need to go check on the gym.”
I lower my head, tears threatening with more strength. The last place I want to go is my grandpa’s gym. If I know him—and I do—he’s going to put me in the ring. Test me to see if I’ve kept my training up. Doesn’t he realize I’m hurting? Is he trying to kick me when I’m already down?
My grandma glances at me before looking at my grandfather. “Go easy on him.”
He nods, kissing her cheek before she climbs out of the truck. I keep my eyes on my grandfather as he watches maimeó go inside and shut the door. Then he peels away from the curb. His face sets into a stern look, reminding me he’s only soft for one person—and it’s not me.
I have to grab the door handle to steady myself. “Most loving grandparents would give their passenger a heads-up before driving like a bat out of hell.”
He flicks his dull amber eyes to me in the rearview mirror but says nothing, steering us to the gym like it’s on fire. The drive should take fifteen minutes; The Great Jamie Walsh makes it in seven. Good thing his gym isn’t on a main highway, or this would have been a bloodier ride.
The brakes squeak when he pulls to a stop in the parking lot. It’s dark out; I can’t even make out the words on the outside of the gym. Good thing I know them by heart:
‘The Great Jamie Walsh’ Boxing Gym’
A key scrapes against the lock, then he pries the door open and lets us inside. The electricity buzzes to life, flooding the building with light. It’s different than I remember—more modern. The ring is black now with red ropes, a stark contrast from the dusty old thing I used to train on. Time changes everything, I guess, even the pinnacle of my childhood. I spent so many hours here as a kid.
I walk around until I find the opening of the hallway, the same hallway where I used to sit and do my homework. Pictures line the walls. I flip the light switch to see them more clearly.
Several photos are of me as a kid, in the ring with my grandfather, or running around as a towel boy for the older guys who trained here. My gaze lands on one of my father. He’s been gone so long, I forgot what he looked like. I never realized how much we look alike. When I was little, I remember missing him so much. But seeing his picture now, I don’t feel anything. I’ve lived more years without him than with him. It’s normal that I forget. But what happened to him… that’s something I’ll never forget.
“Dean, you and me, in the ring. Now.”
Knew it.
“I don’t have any shorts,” I say.
That excuse never worked when I was a kid, and judging by the coldness in his eyes, it’s not working now.
“It wasn’t a question, boyo.”
I pop my neck. “I don’t feel like it tonight.”
My grandfather is not someone you say no to, but I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about pleasing him. His face hardens into a quiet fury. He never had much of a temper, even when I was a kid and lit a mattress on fire. But right now, he looks ready to explode.
“Get in the goddamn ring, Dean, or I will drag you in myself.”
He means it, too. Fuck.
Sighing, I concede and pull my shirt up over my head. My temples throb, and my chest feels like it’s caved in. But sure, let’s worry about whether I’m still good in the ring. I kick my shoes off, more like an angry toddler than an adult.
The ropes squeak as I climb through them. My bare feet meet the black canvas floor, which feels both familiar and new.
Jamie follows, pausing to slip some pads on his hands. He looks up at me, then eases into his stance. “Let’s see how well you’ve kept up.”
My body is sore and hurting, but I deliver two quick blows to his pads. He, of all people, should know how seriously I take training. If Declan hadn’t chosen me as his left-hand man when he was twelve, boxing would have been my plan B. But that was a long time ago, and it’s too late for me now.
A pad smacks me in the side of the head, sending a ringing through my ear. It hurts, but I’ve endured worse this week.
“Pay attention,” he growls.
He swings a padded hand at me. I dodge and hit his other hand—but the old man is quick. He redirects the first swing and gets me on the back of the head.
“You’ve been slacking. Getting weak.”
Irritation lights up my veins. I grit my teeth and drop into a stance. “I’m not weak.”
“Could’ve fooled me, kid.”
That’s it. I charge toward him, fists ready, breath heavy, ignoring my bruised ribs. He dodges easily, smacking me again.
“Focus.”
“I am focused.”
“If you were, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
He strips the pad from one hand, and his palm connects with my face. In all my years, he’s never hit me without padding. The scruff on my jaw burns from the impact.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“You’re acting like a pussy, Dean.”
“Excuse me?”
He steps closer, toe to toe. “I should kick your ass all over this city for how you acted today.”
My shoulders slump. “What did you expect me to do? Be happy?”
“I don’t see why you’re not. You still love her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Declan told me everything,” he snaps. “The drinking, the trips all over the world looking for her. What you did in Colombia. I want to know why, Dean. Why do all that only to treat her like shit?”
Emotion swallows me whole. I did treat her like shit. It was never supposed to be like that.
“Explain yourself, Dean.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just what I do, I guess.”
“Bullshit. You’re scared. You’re angry, and you’re running.”
“Of course I’m angry. She stole my kid from me.”
“Oh, is that what she did? The way I see it, you sent her and your son away. You made her run. This is all on you. Every second of suffering is your fault.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“And yet, you’re still acting like a dickhead. You need to man up, Dean. Be a father to that little boy.”
A watery laugh escapes me. “A father? I can’t be a father! I’ll just fuck the kid up. That much is obvious.”
How can I keep a child alive with bloodstained hands?
My grandpa cocks an eyebrow. “So you’re just gonna give up?”
I swallow, unable to reply. Am I giving up? Did I scour the Earth for years only to leave now that I’ve finally found her? Can I really let her go that easily?
“You’re really going to let another man have her—have your family?”
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. If you walk away, Arnie becomes her husband and PJ’s father.”
His words strike me like lightning, rage burning through me, followed by the desperate pain left in its charred path.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” I admit.
He moves so quickly I don’t have time to react. The great Jamie Walsh punches me hard in the chin, snapping my head back. It’s enough to make my brain jiggle like jelly.
Stumbling, I lower myself onto the mat. “What the fuck?”
“Stop being a pussy, Dean. Man the fuck up and take what’s rightfully yours. No one cares what happened in the past. What matters is right now, and that little boy needs you. He needs you to get your head out of your ass,” he roars.
It’s hard to focus when I see two of him.
I hear him suck in a deep breath. “Look, I want my great-grandson to know who I am, Dean. I want him to know he can become a great boxer.”
“He wants to be a boxer?”
“He did. Before Juliette met Arnie. Now he wants to be a detective.”
I can’t help but laugh, though it sounds more like a groan. “She would never marry a straight-and-narrow guy.”
Not my bluebird. She’d be bored out of her fucking mind.
“I don’t think he’s so straight and narrow,” my grandfather replies.
My mouth drops open. Through the fuzzy red haze of pain, I manage, “What are you talking about?”
“But why am I telling you this? You don’t mind if he takes your family, remember?”
“Grandpa, what did you mean by that?”
“Not your concern.”
His voice sounds farther away. I realize I can’t see him clearly anymore.
“You remember how to get home, right?”
“W-what?”
“Great. Make sure to lock up after you clean up your mess.”
“My mess? You hit me.”
“Her number’s on the office phone. Call it when you decide to find your balls.”
The gym door slams behind him, echoing in the empty building. I let myself fall backward, head throbbing, spinning with a thousand questions. What did he mean by that? Can I really let her go? What kind of man walks away knowing he has a kid out there?
And how the hell am I going to fix all of this?