6. Kieran
Chapter 6
Kieran
M y brow bone stings, and I’m pretty sure several ribs already have a bruise forming. Lights, coupled with the sweat dripping into the corner of my eyes, obstruct my view of Katsuro doubled over after a particularly powerful body shot.
He pants and slowly rises to shake out his arms. He turns to me, bouncing on his toes. I scoff but internally wince. I’m feeling tired and old. However, I’m also desperate.
I haven’t taken a hard punch yet, nor has Katsuro hit me hard enough to bring about my visions of this unattainable woman I can’t seem to shake.
Katsuro’s attention locks on me as he advances and throws a quick jab aimed at my face. His fist sails past the side of my head as I dodge the punch and counter with a left hook. The thud of my glove as it smacks his ribs reverberates, cutting through the crowd’s shouts.
It doesn’t knock him off his game though. He grunts and retaliates with a right cross to my lower jaw that sends me staggering back. Floating white dots speckle my vision while the ring ropes blur around me. Sharp shadows cloud my vision before returning to normal.
Shite. I need to be hit harder.
I have to see her.
There must be something wrong with me. I’m compelled to see a faceless woman I don’t know, even if it means taking a beating.
My fixation on winning has long subsided. At this point, I’m in this fight for her. To see her.
Annoyed with myself, my pace quickens. A jab, hook, cross—each delivered with precision to Katsuro, but he dances around each one, his footwork quicker than mine.
His expression is questioning but seems to pick up on my erratic round because he darts forward to throw a rapid combination at me. Pain blooms as he lands a jab to the side of my body. With zero hesitation, he follows up with a swift right hook to my jaw and, before I have time to react, a well-executed uppercut to my chin that snaps my head back.
Shockwaves move up my face, rattling my teeth. The impact is sharp and jarring, shortly replaced by a throbbing ache that radiates down my throat. I stumble back several paces, trying to catch my breath. Black creeps into the corner of my vision, and I glance side to side, disoriented. Laughter echoes to my right, and Cormac’s voice yells to my left.
But …
But …
Shadows flood my vision. It’s her. She’s there in front of me.
For a second, I’m confused. Katsuro’s good, but he didn’t hit me that hard, did he? I should see fuzzy lights, maybe a few stars—not a blackout.
Still, it doesn’t matter. This is my new conquest.
My stomach bottoms out when she turns. Her short figure walks toward me, but she gets no closer. I reach for her, and she shakes her head. Faceless, I can’t see anything but her silhouette and her short hair that brushes the base of her neck. An eerie, familiar feeling seeps into me.
I squint, bleeding pissed I can’t see her face. Is it possible to crave someone you can’t see? Desire throbs through me, and I’m drunk on her presence. It’s insane. I’m going insane. Too many knocks to the head for sure.
Her silhouette shimmers, and she already feels further away.
No.
No, No, No.
I yell for her, and she snaps her face to mine. Wait. Her face. How can I see she’s looking at me? I struggle to keep from moving, to still her body’s outline in my mind.
A hand drags up her thigh, over the curve of her hip and up to her mouth. Her lips. I can see her lips. They’re pink and plump, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from releasing a moan.
I trace her lips over and over, desperate to memorize them. There’s no nose, no cheeks, and where her eyes should be, there are two pitch -black sockets. It sounds horrific, but it’s like my body fills her in for me.
I release a breath, resigned that this is all I’m going to get. There’s a sting to the side of my face and her image flickers. But not before …
Her eyes.
A deep brown with a sheen of metallic bronze. The hue is intense and …
And …
The ache of familiarity punctuates another slap to my face, and the blackness gives way to glaring lights. A blurry red-faced Cormac stands over me silently yelling. The sounds of the makeshift arena slowly wash back over me while the shadowed figure ripples away. The stench of pungent moldy odors causes me to wrinkle my nose, and I grimace at the pain in my face.
“—has got to stop, Kieran! Ye’re the bloody boss. Stop acting like a bleeding maggot.”
I blink up at him hunched over me. The bite of concrete is cold against my legs, as I’ve somehow collapsed to the ground, and the chants of the crowd from earlier have dulled to murmurs.
Cormac and Katsuro both reach to pull me up. Katsuro turns to my ear. “I didn’t think I knocked you out. What happened?”
My heart pounds in my chest and I shrug, playing it off as a one-off chancer that just earned him the win tonight.
They practically drag me to the warm-up area and dump me onto the bench. Katsuro moves back toward the ring where Joe announces him as the winner, and while most of the crowd is pumped, there are a few groaning at the win since they bet on me.
Someone tosses an ice pack into my lap, and I look up through the pain to see Cormac pacing back and forth. His hands are in his rusty hair, his thin nose flaring as he huffs out an annoyed sigh.
“I don’t like it. The men don’t like it. Let Finn fight. Callum. Me. Anyone but ye.”
I raise the ice pack to under my chin where the agony of Katsuro’s uppercut is tender and puffy. Rolls of sweat migrate down my ass crack and I’m as over this night as I’ll ever be.
“I’m serious, Kieran. This shite’s gotta stop.”
Suddenly, I’m on my feet. I ignore the scraping feeling under my skin between my ribs, and with my free hand, I grab the collar of Cormac’s suit and twist.
“Ye’ve got a lot of nerve to talk to me like that. I don’t care who ye are. This is me bloody organization. Back the hell off.” I release his shirt, then toss the ice pack in his direction before sluggishly walking to the locker room to change.
I need to get home to Aoife. Guilt rides me as I think about how I gave up another Wednesday to chase some high instead of spending time with her. I need to do better. Find a better balance. But I’m exhausted and this parenthood thing I’m doing alone is taxing.
Damn, I’m horrible.
Summer’s voicemail flickers to life in my mind and I repeat her words. It seems she might not have been so far off about me after all.
I swing open the door to the vacant locker room, silently rejoicing there’s not a single person here. I rear back and slam my fist into the nearest metal locker, at this point numb to any more soreness. A tiny trickle of warmth floods the corner of my eye, and I punch again to keep any more tears from coming.
I saw her. And like a drug, the high from my hit is wearing off. I’m left with an emptiness I can’t describe.
There’s not a day that goes by I don’t wish I could give Aoife more. More of a family unit. The older I get, the more it seems impossible. Improbable.
Who could want me in this life, in my world? I certainly don’t have the heart to lure women into this business for my own personal satisfaction. I don’t want Aoife in this world. How could I expect to drag another person I love into it?
So I grapple with the woman from the shadows. Pretending that my insane drive to see her is just that, insane. When really, deep down, she’s the vision of what I’ll never have.