Chapter 23
Archer
Julian’s hand is intertwined with mine, and Freya is tucked under my arm as the three of us stroll along the Seine.
Stands filled with books line the street, most of the vendors starting to shut up their businesses for the night.
The sun is slowly setting behind Notre Dame, and I honestly couldn’t envision a more perfect day.
Every day with them is perfect. No pressure. No suffocating expectations.
In the back of my mind, I worry about how long this can really go on before I start to feel the weight of their affection for me like an iron blanket, slowly killing me and making me want to run.
“Do you know who you’re fighting tonight?” Freya asks.
“Yeah. Rex sent me the details yesterday. It’s some Italian guy.”
“And people bet on these fights?” Julian asks.
“Yeah. A lot of people do actually. This guy tonight is scrawny, so most of the bets will be on me. It’s when the guys are big that things tend to get ugly afterward.”
“I’m nervous, Archer. I don’t like this.” Freya nuzzles into my side, so I press my lips to her forehead.
“Don’t be nervous, Chef. I do this all the time. It’s harmless.”
Julian is tense too. I sense it in the swing of his hand in mine and the way his laser-focused attention doesn’t leave the horizon. Finally, he turns toward me.
“This isn’t that dangerous guy you told us about in the elevator, is it?”
“I wish,” I bark with a laugh. “Rex can’t seem to find him. I have a suspicion he’s not trying too hard. He really doesn’t want me to fight him.”
“Then maybe you should listen to him,” Freya argues.
“You guys are going to have a blast tonight, and then you’ll see how fun they are. It’s not as scary as you two seem to think it is. The adrenaline is incredible.”
Neither of them seems very convinced. And I wish they’d just give it a chance. I’ve accepted them and their passions without hesitation. Why can’t they give me the same respect?
The fight tonight is in an actual gym, which is a rarity. It’s not a nice or legit gym by any means. It’s the kind that hosts crowds for illegal street fighting, but it does make me feel better than having to take either of them to the docks or some abandoned Métro station.
My only hesitation is that I haven’t had a single moment to prepare for this fight. Being with them for the last seventy-two hours, I haven’t stuck to my diet, prepped in any way, or watched videos of this guy so I know what to expect.
On the bright side, he is a skinny kid based on the link Rex sent me. I’ll let him get one hit in to make it interesting, and then I’ll show Julian and Freya how I always win. It will hopefully settle their nerves.
The three of us are standing together on the Métro ride out of town. Freya’s body is pressed between me and Julian, and I lean down to smell the coconut and floral scent of her hair.
Remembering the look on her face this morning guts me. It was reckless of me to think that seeing me and Julian together wouldn’t hurt her. I was so careless with her feelings, and as punishment, I had to see the pain I inflicted.
How the hell do my brother and his family do this all time?
Being in a relationship is hard enough, but splitting my heart into two feels impossible.
I can’t possibly give 100 percent of myself to both of them.
I can’t be everything to both Julian and Freya.
At some point, one of us will go bankrupt.
There will be nothing left, and the entire thing will implode.
But fuck if I can’t help but indulge in them both for now. I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want to make the wise choice now to save our future hearts.
And it’s too late now to imagine a life where it’s only two of us in this relationship. We’re stuck.
“After the fight, would you two like to sleep at my place?” I ask, holding Freya against my body and staring into Julian’s eyes. She turns her head and glances up at me.
“Sure.”
He hesitates, and I see the nervous energy behind his eyes. Finally, he nods. I know it’s the fight that has him acting this way. But he’ll see. Afterward, he’ll feel so much better.
When we reach our Métro stop, the three of us climb off, and I lead them to the location Rex sent me. The two of them walk behind me, clutched together as I get myself in my prefight mind space.
Rex is waiting out front, bouncing on his feet, when he sees me coming. Then his eyes land on the couple behind me, and they widen with surprise. He probably thinks I’m out of my mind for bringing them, but I’m not worried. They’ll be fine.
“Hey, Chunks,” I say, clapping his hand and pulling him in for a quick hug.
“Hey, Chopper,” he mutters with nervous energy.
Turning back, I hold out my hand for the other two. “This is Freya and Julian. They’re just here to watch.”
Rex pastes a beaming smile on his handsome face. “Nice to meet you both,” he says before giving them a wave.
“Chopper?” Freya asks, glancing at me with curiosity.
I laugh out loud. “You know…helicopters.” I make a gesture with my hand, moving in circles above my head.
“Ah…gotcha,” she replies with a smile. She’s at least trying to look excited and casual. Julian, on the other hand, is wearing a scowl so deep I worry it will indent into his skull.
Rex turns to me with a look of worry too. “So this guy’s been training, and he doesn’t look anything like the one in the pictures I sent you. The bookies are rightfully pissed, Arch. But the manager says he’s not calling the fight.”
With a cynical smile, I shake my head. “Why the hell would they call it? What? So the guy did some workouts at the gym? You think I can’t handle him?”
“They’re fucking with us, Archer. It’s not a fair fight.”
I suck in through my teeth and wave a hand at my friend. “You’re being paranoid. I can take him. Relax.”
“What’s going on?” Freya asks with fear.
I turn toward her, trying to calm her worries. “It’s fine. Rex is just cautious. He does this every time.” I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you?”
His lips pressed together tightly, he nods. “It’s my job.”
No one looks convinced.
There’s really no fanfare in these fights. No announcer or seats or rules or anything really. I walk into the gym with Rex by my side. I tear off my shirt and pass it to him, along with my phone and wallet.
I take about thirty seconds to get warmed up, and then I walk into the ring to meet my opponent. We don’t have timers or points or even a real referee. It’s just a matter of who can knock the other down first.
When the other fighter walks in, I see what Rex was talking about. The guy in the video he sent me was lanky and tall. This guy looks about fifty pounds heavier and twice the size.
My teeth clench as I watch him walk in. Angry murmurs ripple through the small crowd gathered around us, and rightfully so. The fighter they thought they were betting against looked like the prepubescent version of this guy.
And it’s not like I’m worried. I’ll still get them their wins and beat his ass. I just realize now that it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot more. And I wasn’t really anticipating that. In fact, the cut above my eye isn’t fully healed, and it’s about to get a lot worse.
Let’s hope he doesn’t know how to throw a punch.
Rex wraps my hands in gauze, which is about the only gear I’ll take with me into the fight.
That and a mouth guard so I don’t have to eat the rest of my meals through a straw, but that’s it.
Nothing else is allowed. Although once, I took a mean right hook from a guy who I was pretty sure had a pair of brass knuckles of some sort under his gauze.
But I only let him get one punch in, so I couldn’t be sure.
Taking a deep breath, I bounce around on the balls of my feet.
Julian and Freya are at the back of the crowd, near the door, which is exactly where I want them.
I trust him that if things get ugly, he’ll take care of her.
Under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t want her anywhere near this place.
Either of them really. But I have confidence tonight.
Maybe too much.
As I walk into the circle, I loosen up my shoulders as one of the gym owners steps up and shouts, “Battez-vous!”
The crowd starts cheering, hollering loudly as my opponent charges at me with fists drawn. I deftly evade a one-two punch by ducking and maneuvering out of the way. For the first two minutes of the fight, I am on the defensive. He’s big and strong but not as nimble as I am.
Finally, after dodging more swings than I can count, I lay in a hard punch to his rib cage. He jerks and winces before swinging for my face and making painful contact.
In the distance, I hear Freya yelp.
My damage to his ribs definitely lightened the blow of his fist, but it was hard enough to jar me. Quickly recovering, I move away from him, hands up and ready to block another punch.
I’m not worried. I’ll win. I always win.
This guy just caught me off guard.
As the fight continues, I feel my legs and arms start to burn with exertion. The lack of warm-up and preparation is starting to show.
When I do eventually get a good punch in against the guy’s face, it doesn’t carry the same power behind it I normally feel. That’s when I begin to worry.
Rex is shouting at me from the sidelines, but all I can hear are Freya’s yelps and screams. This was a bad idea. I never should have brought her here.
I should have known this guy’s unfair weight gain would have the crowd in a pissed-off mood. If I lose, it will be pandemonium in here.
I can’t lose.
I don’t lose.
With a resounding roar and what little energy I have left, I throw it all at him. I wear out my shoulder fast, swinging wildly at him. It’s a Hail Mary, but it works.
For a second.
He stumbles, blood pouring from his nose. I expect him to go down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes it off and comes at me with twice as much stamina.
Throwing an uppercut makes me vulnerable, and he takes the shot. The hit he lands against my face hurts. Like hell.