23. Hit Me
twenty-three
Jack
Istand up to move the ball and the chair back where they go and then lead Liz to the other side of the room.
I may not understand much about Liz Lawson, but one thing I know better than anything is rage. I held onto so much of it for so long that it just became a part of me. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t feel it. Even when I’d pretend to be happy, it was all an act with my anger boiling to the surface.
Listening to Liz’s story makes me realize she’s dealing with some of those same issues. I had to find a way to let go of all of that to be able to find my peace. It sounds like Liz still needs to find hers. Otherwise, that rage will find a way to eat her alive.
Maybe I can help with that.
Getting her into position, I hand her a pair of boxing gloves.
“Put these on.”
She looks unsure, but she does it anyway. After she has them on, I pick up a punch shield and hold it in front of my chest.
“Hit me.”
“Seriously?” She cocks an eyebrow. “What if I hurt you?”
I grin. “I think I’ll be okay.”
When she still doesn’t look convinced, I add, “Unless you’re scared, princess.”
I can practically see the fire ignite within her.
“Okay, you asked for it, Paul Bunyan.” She puts her mitts up and uses one of them to throw a punch.
“There you go,” I encourage. “Harder.”
She throws a punch with her other hand with a bit more force this time.
“Come on, princess. Is that the best you’ve got? Think about that asshole who took all of your money.”
Another hit.
“Think about how he took everything from you, and you had to move back home.”
Another.
“Picture that he’s right here, and you can hit him as hard as you want.”
That gets her amped up, and she keeps swinging away. She’s locked in and beating the shit out of the mitt. The look on her face is one of pure determination.
Her pace quickens as she continues to throw punches.
“That’s it,” I tell her. “Let all of that anger come out in each swing.”
As she keeps going, I see all of that rage bubbling to the surface. Tears well up in her eyes, but I can tell she’s doing everything she can to hold them back.
“Scream, Liz.”
“What?” She asks, not bothering to stop the punches.
“Scream. Yell into the universe about how pissed you are.”
She lets out what can only be described as a noise a cat would make.
“That’s not a scream,” I tease. “Let me hear you scream.”
“What if someone hears me?”
I use one hand to pull my phone out of my pocket and turn the music back on. With the thumping rock, no one is going to be able to hear anything.
“Happy?” I ask. “Now, scream.”
It takes her a minute, but finally, she lets out a yell that sounds almost primal.
“Tell me what you”re mad at!” I prompt.
“I’m mad at the asshole who screwed me over.”
Punch.
“I’m mad at people in this town for hating me.”
Punch.
“I’m mad at everyone back in LA who abandoned me.”
“Good girl,” I tell her. “Keep going until you have nothing left.”
And she does just that. She punches and yells until finally, she collapses to her knees.
Joining her on the ground, I put my hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”
She nods.
“Do you feel any better?”
She thinks for a minute and smiles. “Yeah, actually I kind of do.”
“Good. You just need to find a way to channel that anger. That’s the main reason I work out. It makes me turn all the bad thoughts into something productive.”
“Thank you,” she says with another warm smile. “I know you didn’t want to help me.”
I’m not quite sure how to respond to that, so instead, I stand up and hold out my hand to help her to her feet.
“Hey, Jack.”
“Yeah?”
She steps closer to me. “Did you mean it when you said that you didn’t feel anything when we kissed?”
With her standing in front of me, it takes everything within me not to press my lips to hers again. But it was a mistake. Plain and simple. Just because this woman occasionally shows a redeeming quality doesn’t mean that I should get close to her. I don’t think that would turn out well for either one of us.
It’s getting increasingly harder to stay away from her, though. If we keep getting this close, I don’t know that I would be able to stop myself.
“Nothing,” I tell her, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
I see her face fall a little, but she tries to play it off.
“Right. Me either. I should probably get going.” Before she walks up the stairs, she turns toward me. “Will I see you in the morning?”
Fearing I’m going to regret what I’m about to say, I know it’s for the best. “Uh, no actually. My schedule has changed, so I won’t be able to do mornings anymore.”
“Oh,” she says, obviously disappointed. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
I feel even more guilty than I did with Misty.
But that’s probably because with Misty, I was doing it for her own good. With Liz, I’m doing it solely for my own self-preservation.
And with Liz, somehow, it feels harder to walk away.