Chapter Six #2
Dark, deserted. Someplace no one would think to look for a body. There weren’t any cars out front, but Gabe didn’t have a car, so that didn’t mean anything.
The glimpse of a punching bag reassured me. If boxing was involved, Gabe would be too.
I stepped inside, the heavy door latching behind me, and breathed in the musty air. It felt a little like stepping into a time capsule. All around were tokens of the past, little pieces of history that told the story of what this place once was.
Rows of faded punching bags with duct tape wrapped around their middles hung from chains hooked to the ceiling.
Faded banners printed with different names and logos lined the brick walls.
A weight rack sat off to the side, a few of the dumbbells missing, with a frayed jump rope looped over one corner.
Straight ahead, raised on a platform beneath a cluster of all but one burned-out lights, was a boxing ring. It rose from the concrete floor like a crown waiting for its king to claim it. I wandered its perimeter, running my hand along one of the ropes. My fingers came away with dust.
Footsteps across the room echoed off the shadowed walls. Gabe stopped next to one of the pillars that lined the space, standing nearly as tall and just as solid, watching me take in the surroundings.
Being in the same room as him again had my pulse humming. To see him with my own eyes, here instead of halfway across the country.
“What is this place?” I asked. My voice carried in the silence of the room.
“My old gym,” he replied somewhat measured. Almost as if he was nervous of what I might think. “My first one, actually.”
I swept another glance, taking in the space through the eyes of a fourteen-year-old Gabe. It was big, the room stretching in a long line away from the street, the air still crackling with energy accumulated from all the young boxers who must have trained here.
“It’s amazing,” I said.
“I’m going to buy it.” His expression held the same determination he’d worn during his boxing matches in high school. The ones I would go to with Evan and his mom as an infatuated twelve-year-old and watch with wide eyes, amazed one person could carry so much power.
He’d been a giant to me then. A superhero. Immovable and unbreakable.
He’d since been broken.
Both physically and mentally, more than he let most people see. I wasn’t sure why I was the one he’d chosen to show his wounds to, but he had, just like he’d invited me here.
Based on the resolve in his voice, this was how he intended to put himself back together.
“Is that why you needed a suit?”
He seemed surprised I knew about that but recovered quickly. “Yeah. I tried to get a loan, but I don’t have enough cash for the bank to give me one yet. And I only have three months to get it before Coach Lou sells to someone else.”
I blew out a breath and took a seat on the edge of the ring. This probably wasn’t the kind of thing we could organize a few bake sales for and call it a day. He could try to crowdfund, but unless it went viral, that seemed like a long shot with only three months.
I wanted him to get this, though. Wanted him to have a win after all the hits he’d endured the past two years. He deserved a new purpose now that his time in the ring was over. Something that brought him just as much meaning and joy.
And if there was a secret part of me that hoped he’d find that purpose here so he would stay, I made sure to bury it deep enough not to notice.
He joined me to sit on the edge of the mat, his bent knees rising several inches above mine. “My buddy agreed to let me fight in a local tournament he’s putting together. The prize is enough to get me the loan.”
My pulse sped up as I realized what he was saying. From excitement at the possibility as much as concern at the risk. “Are you sure you want that?” I asked. “To fight again?”
He lowered his gaze to the floor, and texts from two years ago floated to the surface of my mind. Heartbroken texts from a heartbroken son who’d lost not one but two of the things most important to him in the span of a few months.
“It’s my shot at holding on to this,” he said, resolved. He gazed out at the gym as he said it, but I didn’t think it was only the gym he meant.
I swung my knee into his. “Then you got this.”
He swung his knee back, mouth lifting. “What makes you so sure? You become a boxing expert while I was away or something? Going to train my ass back into shape?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, though my ears went hot from how much boxing I had watched the past few years. Not enough to make me an expert but enough to be embarrassing. “I just know how hard you go after the things you want.”
His smile softened, his eyes taking in my chef clothes before lifting to the bandanna still in my hair and drifting over my face. The tenderness in his gaze took my breath.
“What?” I asked with a laugh, my neck growing warm.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” Before I could press, he asked, “Today was that bridal shower, right? The Italian one?”
“Yeah.” Three generations of extended family had attended. As someone whose parents were only children and never had a big family reunion, all the hollering, laughter, and physical embraces had brought a sweet kind of longing to my chest. It was nice to see love that big celebrated out loud.
“Was it as hectic as you thought it’d be?”
I chuckled. “Not as bad as the one last month.” That bridesmaid’s pregnancy announcement had been a whole other level of drama. I’d texted Gabe in Colorado about it the second I got back to the kitchen.
Well. As far as I knew. He may have already been back in Philly by then.
He shifted beside me, seeming to track my thoughts. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was back.”
Deep shadows cast across the tense line of his brows, dulling his aqua-blue eyes. He had a scar I’d never noticed at the end of one eyebrow, the small indented line probably left behind by stitches he’d gotten after a match.
“I wanted to,” he went on. “Not just text you, but see you. I had my phone out at the airport. I just…” He stared off at a pillar as if the words he was looking for were hidden behind it.
“Just what?” I asked softly.
He kept staring forward. “I guess I wasn’t sure what came next.
I didn’t want to start randomly dropping into your life, messing up your routine and complicating things with Evan.
It seemed simpler to keep it how things were until I had more of a plan.
Especially since Evan said some stuff on New Year’s that made me think it might be simpler for you too.
” He finally glanced at me, seeking if I understood.
I did. Gabe didn’t do relationships. Not just girlfriends, which as far as I knew, he hadn’t had since high school. He didn’t do real friendships either. Not the kind Evan and I had. The lifelong, knows every part of you, is your go-to person kind of friendship.
Gabe had situational acquaintances. Sparring partners he was close with at the gym but rarely hung out with outside of training.
Coaches and managers he was close with as coworkers but didn’t let into other parts of his life.
Physical therapists and nutritionists whose partners and kids Gabe knew all the names of but whose houses he’d never stay at for holidays.
People whose company he enjoyed but who he wouldn’t have to miss when his career took him to a different gym, city, or part of the world.
Evan was the only one who had crossed all lines. Gabe had let his brother into every part of himself right up until he’d shut Evan out altogether. And now as he was opening the door again, Evan had barricaded it from the other side.
Letting someone else in wasn’t something Gabe was used to. And especially now, when his heart was already tender with so much grief, doing it through texts probably felt safer. He was right that it kept things simpler.
It didn’t stop my mini flare-up of frustration toward both brothers. At Gabe for shutting himself off and at Evan for being part of the reason why.
“Evan tries to protect me, sometimes from things I don’t need protecting from,” I said, realizing it was true for both of them.
“But he doesn’t decide things for me. I choose my own friendships.
And I happen to be fine with a little complication as long as we can be open about it.
But if you’d rather stick to texting, we can do that too. ”
I wasn’t looking to push him. And I especially didn’t want to lose what we had. Even if it was just over texts, his presence in my life had come to mean too much to let go of completely.
But he shook his head firmly. “I don’t want that. I like being around you in person. And I really like the sound of being open with each other. It’s why I wanted to show you this place.”
The zip tie around my stomach released, and for the first time since I learned he was back, I took a full breath. Whatever flittering my heart did was only more relief. Me being grateful our friendship was intact. I ignored it as we gazed out at the gym.
“Have you told anyone else about it?” I asked.
“My dad. He hasn’t seen it yet, but he knows it’s why I’m back.”
“I bet he’s losing his mind with happiness.”
Gabe’s eyes crinkled at the corners with his grin. “He’s definitely all for it.” His voice took on a sad note. “Mom would have been excited too.”
My smile softened as I pictured it. “She’d already have this place polished. Would probably have her favorite boxing photos of yours printed and framed for you to hang on the walls.”
He snorted. “Only most of them would have been from before I even went pro. Me as a fifteen-year-old about to get clocked in the face because my hands weren’t up.”
“Being able to see your face is what she would have loved about it.”
He shook his head, a wistful smile on his lips. “It sucks not having her here to see it.”
The sorrow in his eyes was the same shade of longing as when Nana wasn’t there to attend Ardena’s soft opening or see me as the head chef of a new catering venture.
That deep yearning to have the people you loved most there for special moments, and the bottomless gap that opened in your heart at knowing they couldn’t be.
I leaned into him, offering a hug. “I know.” Nothing I said could fill that gap. It’d been six years since my grandma died, and I still felt it every day.
He circled his arm around me, drawing me against him so my cheek rested on his shoulder. It happened naturally, as if we’d done it dozens of times before. I let my weight sink into him, and his other hand came up to brush a stray hair from my forehead.
Being in his arms felt safe. Simple. Like whatever heartaches or toils the real world had for me couldn’t touch me within the warmth of his embrace. Like for this moment, I could let it all go.
It was the feeling of safety my grandma had provided me. One that was harder to find now that she was gone.
I breathed through the ache of missing her and focused on the coziness of Gabe’s clean scent. “I’m glad you’re home,” I said.
His arm tightened around me. “Me too.”
“Thank you for showing me this place.”
My voice must have given me away because he squeezed my side again. “You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
We sat in silence, wrapped together on the edge of the mat, giving and taking comfort. Comfort I hadn’t let myself admit I needed before now. The same was probably true for him.
“I miss them,” I finally whispered, thinking of his mom and Nana.
Three minuscule words attempting to convey a galaxy’s worth of emptiness.
They were the only words I had.
“I do too,” he said.
We held each other a few minutes longer, remembering.