Chapter 23 #2
The ground comes up to meet me fast. Before I know it, my face is pressed against the dirty floor, and my ears are buzzing.
“Get up, Archer!” Rex shouts, getting on the floor to look into my eyes.
“Archer!” Freya screams.
I can’t let them see me lose. I can’t fucking lose.
When the other fighter moves toward me, I anticipate the kick to my rib cage and block it. My hands ache with the impact, but at least I can get on my feet again while he recovers.
Blinking, I find Julian in the crowd. He’s holding Freya while she buries her face in his shirt. If it kills me, I have to win this fight. I can’t let her see me lose.
Rex moves into my line of sight. “Stay on his right side. His left swing is slower.”
I nod my head, willing myself to finish this fight. I could have stayed down. I had the opportunity to tap out and end it, but I didn’t.
There is no choice. I have to win, not only for myself but because if I don’t, I don’t know how this crowd will react. It could get very dangerous in here.
Shaking off the pain vibrating through my head and down my spine, I face him again. This time, I watch his movements like I would if I were prepping for a match. His left arm is slower. The less momentum and power I give him, the better.
So I stick to his right side, easily blocking his punches. Blood seeps into my eye, and I quickly shake it away. I let him tire himself out for a while, and the crowd is tiring out too. They’re getting frustrated with us. They wanted this to be an easy match, but it’s not. Hell, I did too.
After he throws a weak punch, I see my opening. With a fire burning in my shoulder, I lay into him. Swing after swing, I never give him the opportunity to recover. The crowd is wild, shouting and cheering so loud I’m sure it could be heard halfway across France.
But all I hear is screams.
When the fighter hits the floor, it’s with a resounding thud. He groans as his trainer yells at him to get up. My shoulder screams in pain. I can’t even feel my knuckles, and I sway on my feet, praying he either doesn’t get up or taps out.
The gym owner leans down to his face before standing and motioning with an X in front of his body. The fight is over.
I won.
The crowd cheers, and Rex runs up to me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing my face to him. “Jesus, Chopper. You good, man?”
Good? No, I’m not good. This win doesn’t feel good, and they always feel good. Grabbing my shirt from his hands, I wipe at my face and stumble into a wall to catch my breath.
I just need a moment to compose myself before Julian and Freya come over, but of course, they are there before I’m ready.
When I look up and see tears streaked across her face, I nearly die on the spot in shame.
What have I put her through? They were supposed to find it fun. I thought they would cheer for me.
“Let’s get you home,” Julian says, tugging on my arm.
I paste a smile on my face, feeling the open gash on my eyebrow leak with blood as I do. “I’m fine,” I lie.
Taking a step, my knees practically give out beneath me. Julian puts his body under my arm to hold me up.
“Archer!” Freya shrieks.
“I’m fine, guys. I promise.”
Neither of them seem to buy it. And honestly, at this point, I’m not sure I do either.
The ride to my place is quiet. I can feel their anger and fear mingled into one, and it’s almost worse than the throbbing in my head.
Filled with regret, I stare out the window. I don’t know if it’s regret for almost losing. For inviting them. For thinking I could be in a normal relationship with the two of them.
When we reach the apartment building, I climb out and try to maintain my composure as we stride through the front doors. To my relief, neither of them put up a protest when I punch the elevator button.
Once we’re inside, there isn’t an ounce of laughter or lightheartedness from the memories we made here. Just more regret.
I keep my eyes down until we reach my floor. As the doors open, I step out, my legs nearly giving out beneath me as I reach my apartment. Once inside, I go to my kitchen first, desperate for water.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Julian asks as he pulls off his coat.
“In that closet,” I reply, nodding my head toward the hallway.
He moves with purpose, rushing to the closet to pull out the box full of gauze, bandages, antiseptic ointment, and such.
“What can I do?” Freya asks.
Julian pauses to look at her. There’s concern in her features, and he gives her a soft smile.
“Will you go upstairs and feed Onyx for me?”
The look on her face says she’s grateful for this task. “Yes, of course.”
After giving her the key to his place and instructions on where the food is, he tugs me into the bathroom, and I hear the door close as she leaves.
He starts up the bath and turns toward me to drag my shirt over my head. I wince as the fabric pulls away from the nasty scrape on my left shoulder. The same shoulder that Rex had to appropriately locate not that many days ago.
I’ve been off my game. Bad.
For the second time in a month, I nearly lost. This whole time, I’ve been begging my friend to find this ruthless fighter, and all the while I know that if he did, I could die. That would be it.
Sitting on the side of the tub, I stare up at Julian as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and reaches into the box for something to clean my face. He settles for some gauze and water.
As he gently wipes at my eyebrow, I focus on his face. Julian is impossible to read. His content face is the same as his angry face, and both are essentially emotionless scowls.
“Please don’t make me watch that again,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
“You realize that winning those fights isn’t really winning, don’t you?”
Not a single word comes out of my mouth in response. I refuse to acknowledge that.
“Why do you do it?” he asks. “I just want to understand. Is it truly about the adrenaline and the fun of the fight?”
Still, no words escape. When I move to stand, he places his hands on my shoulders and holds me down. Then, to my surprise, he pulls me toward him, letting my face rest against his stomach. My cheek is pressed to the button of his shirt as he strokes the back of my head.
With an exhale, I let out all the tension buried deep within my muscles. He curls his body around me, clutching me against his perfectly tailored shirt. My arms wind around his waist. No one has ever held me like this after a fight.
It would be reckless of me to get used to it.