22. Chapter Twenty Two
I watch Scarlett intently as the panic slowly ebbs away from her features. To say I was shocked at the way she so quickly overpowered me is an understatement. My balls still throb from her cheap shot but in all honesty, I can’t blame her. My shot at her was just as cheap.
When you see an opening, you’ve got to take it.
Didn’t make taking her down the way I did feel even more of an asshole than I already do. The amount of self-loathing I feel for myself after the way I have treated Scarlett today is deserved. She doesn’t deserve an ounce of my anger but I can’t help it.
Doesn’t she know just how fucking terrified we all were after what went down when we were kids? How the events that unfolded changed our genetic makeup?
That there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last ten years that I haven’t thought about that day. Replayed it over and over in my head. Berated myself for being a scared little boy. Regretted the fact that I didn’t grab one of the guns from the bloodied bodies that were scattered at the party and shoot one of those motherfuckers.
That day is the reason I train as hard as I do. It's the reason why I am so dedicated to our cause.
Its the exact fucking reason Scarlett needs to go home.
It would destroy us if something happened to her again. But I know that this time, we won’t get lucky. She has no idea what she is doing. At least back then she had actual training behind her. Admittedly, she was only a kid but at least she had an awareness about her. Now, she has no idea.
Scarlett takes a breath and I feel as though I take one with her. Even though the fight has been drained from her body I still see a determined look in her eye. One I know all too well.
“Ready to keep sparing then?” She tries to brush off her panic attack like it's nothing but I can tell how tired she is by the way her shoulders have completely sunken. Even though I only spent a month with this new Scarlett, I have memorised her tells almost instantly. Just an inkling to how fucking obsessed I am.
Because underneath all of the bravado, is a man that is irrevocably in love with the woman standing in front of him.
I don’t know why I am fighting it so hard. I could have my girl in my arms. Safe. Where she should be. I long for the feeling of her against me again. I fucking ache for it. Having her so close to me while we were sparring felt right.
I don’t bother with a verbal reply, instead just giving her a brisk nod. I feel a bit of satisfaction as I watch as she rolls her eyes. There’s still a hint of a spark in my girl. I don’t think anything could dull it. Except maybe me, if I keep on this track I’m heading down. But the will to care just isn’t there. The need to keep her safe is. It fuels me. I know it's not something I can do while my soul focus needs to be on taking down the rings. It’s easier to push her away. It's better that I treat her like she never mattered. If her hating me is the only thing that will keep her safe, so be it.
Pike, Sonny, Dacre and Nicky all go back to their mats after having rushed over to Scarlett. I can’t help being pissed off. Coddling her isn’t going to make her stronger if this is where both Pres and Rhodes seem determined for her to be. She needs to be able to stand on her own two feet.
I don’t miss the way Nicky eyes me for a moment longer. I have felt his eyes on Scarlett and I the entire time we have been over here. He’s waiting for me to hurt her. While it's obvious I’m stupid enough to break her heart, I could never physically hurt her.
As we step onto the mat, Scarlett mimics my previous fighting stance. I decide against a proper sparring session. I want to push her limits but even I know when to call time. I turn my back without a word and grab a set of punch mitts and hand wraps. I throw the wraps at her which she catches.
“Wrap your hands,” I say, fitting the mitts onto my hands. I watch as she slowly starts wrapping her hands. It's obvious she has no idea of what she is doing but I commend her for the effort. I made a note to teach her how to wrap them properly. I'm not interested in dealing with broken hands.
I wait for her to finish, taking in my fill as I wait. Scarlett’s entire focus remains on her hands. Her brow is furrowed slightly in frustration and concentration. She seems smaller than she was back in Australia. It hits me then; has she not been eating properly ?
I can’t stop the way my emotions riot. I feel the colour slowly drain from my face at the realisation of what we had done. What I did.
We did that to her. We hurt her so fucking deeply that she hasn’t been eating properly. That her body has suffered because we couldn't send a single fucking message letting her know that we were done.
If I could hate myself anymore in a single moment, it would be then. My eyes remained glued to her collarbone. Like I am storing the image away for when I need a reminder of why I don’t fucking deserve her but why I will always want her.
I’m shaken out of my stupor when Scarlett throws the tape off to the side of the mat.
“What do I do?” she asks, waiting for my instruction. My eyes travel down her body, looking at the way she holds herself. Almost like she is bracing in case I rush her again, which I don't plan to do this time around. My eyes slowly travel back up her body as I eventually meet her gaze again.
She gives me a knowing look, a hint of a smile turns her lips that I devour, while giving nothing away. On the outside, I am completely unaffected by her but on the inside: I’m drowning in her.
“Hit the pads. There’s no real technique needed right now. Just keep your face guarded.”
She gives me a nod before bringing her hands up to her face just like I told her. I watch as the rest of her body follows, just like I thought. Her muscles know what to do.
She has done this before. She and I have done this before. It was always one of our warm up routines. The guys would all grouch because Scarlett and I would automatically team up.
I used to revel in it. My crush on her was ridiculous even back then. From the moment I noticed girls, my sights were set on Scarlett. Even after she was gone, no one ever amounted to her. There were just spot fillers. Not like the way she has always filled a spot in my soul. Just like she was so easily able to do from the moment I saw her on that beach, sopping wet and fucking delectable.
Scarlett’s first hit on the mitt is weak, barely even making my arm jolt back.
“Come on, you can do better than that,” I tease. It lights a fire in her eyes, just like I was wanting. Her next hit is slightly harder than the next.
“Harder,” I encourage.
Her next two hits come in quick succession, both with more power behind them than the last.
“Harder!” I yell. One punch, another punch. “Harder!” Another punch. “Is that all you’ve got?”
She lets out a yell, a determination I once saw in her coming alive again. Her eyes darken and her stance strengthens. Her punches this time finally come with the force I was looking for from her, knowing she just needed it coaxed out of her. That fight that was so rich in her just dying to come alive again after being suppressed inside of her.
“Again, Scarlett!” I yell, pulling out every ounce of fight I can from her. Coaxing her inner demon to come and play.
“Fuck you, Dawson!” she yells as she returns two punches.
I can’t help the psychotic laugh that escapes me. “Time and place, baby doll.”
“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot fucking pole,” she retorts .
I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. “Oh, Scarlett, I didn’t know you liked my brand of foreplay.”
“Ugh, disgusting,” she grunts, but her fight doesn’t relent. She still continues to give me all she has got. I slowly start to notice the fatigue setting in though. The earlier panic attack having well and truly exhausted her. A shrill whistle sounds and I watch as Scarlett blows out a breath in relief. Her shoulders slump and her hands drop to her sides as she turns to face Mr Green.
“That’s enough for today. Thursday I expect you to bring your A game. No more fucking around. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” we all say in unison.
He then gives us all one last assessing glance over, determining our worth to the Birds just like he does every session. Something seems to soften in his eyes as he looks at Scarlett, but it's gone as his gaze swings to mine. I give him a respectful nod, one he returns.
Over the years I have grown a lot of respect for Mr Green. I watched in awe of him that day back when Scarlett was taken. He was able to snap me out of a full blown meltdown.
I’ll never forget his words, ‘ Face them all like a warrior. Whether you are one or not.’ Pretty sure he just found that quote from a book, but it did its job that day.
I stood up from my cowered position behind a knocked over picnic table. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there or where my parents, brother or friends were. All I could see was the .22 pistol Mr Green handed me. It wasn’t the first time I had been handed a gun of a similar calibre.
From the moment we could comfortably hold a gun in our hands and not fall on our asses from the recoil, we had been trained to use them. Which at the time I didn’t realise was for situations like the one I was thrown into.
It was the same day I looked a six foot man in the eyes and shot him in between his.
An innocent eight year old turned killer in the blink of an eye.
I didn’t hesitate for a single second. Because as his gun slowly began to raise, I knew that he would have no qualms shooting me dead. From that day on, nothing has ever been able to penetrate the walls I built up around myself.
I became the perfect warrior.
The soldier I was needed to be. I built my body to become a weapon.
Mr Green saw the fight in me. Every session I attended without fail. Sitting in and listening in on the older training classes. Memorising every bit of information I could. Eventually he pulled me aside and offered me private lessons.
For years now, I have been ready to be inducted in the Thunderbirds. I can’t help the bitterness I feel from being constantly held back. My Dad says I’m not ready. Pres says I’m not ready. Yet, Mr Green is the only one that believes that I am.
“Dismissed.” Mr Green turns his back on us and walks out of the building. I’ve always been fond of his assertiveness. I’ve never seen the point in banging around the bush. While others find it rude, I find it refreshing.
I decide to make my escape too, needing to put as much distance as I can between me and my girl, even if every inch kills me.