Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The BOB dummy stands in the center of the mat, a human-shaped torso mounted on a thick black base.
My knuckles are taped along with the cotton wraps, but it’s pointless.
The skin is angry beneath it all; every flex stings.
So, I don’t use them. I drive my heel into the dummy’s ribs.
The base rocks violently as I release a grunt.
Another kick, higher this time and throat level.
My fists itch to get in on the action, making my thrusts more powerful as I try to work out my frustration.
The rubber torso snaps back and rebounds toward me.
I step in and slam my elbow across its jawline, my roar echoing through the sparring room.
No one looks though; they keep busy in routine.
Nyx holds the bag as Bear drives his fists into it relentlessly.
Each pop of his hit echoing off the walls like a canon.
Nina and Jett work technique on the other mat, slow, gradual movements as they mirror each other.
And Cici and Matt… I’m not really sure what they’re doing. She throws a jab into his glove, giggling as he whispers lowly.
I pivot, knee to sternum against the dummy. Hard enough that the sand inside the base shifts with a dull scrape. Pain burns up my shin. Good.
“Leg day only I guess?” Jasper’s voice carries from the doorway.
I don’t look at him at first. “Hands are useless. Doesn’t mean I have to be.”
He walks over, setting his backpack down at the edge of the mat. He looks down at my hands, noticing the blood seeping through. His jaw tightens. “You shouldn’t be training,” he says lowly.
“I didn’t ask.” I mutter as he circles the mat.
“Work with me then. No fists.”
I only blink, sending another kick into the dummy.
“Scared?” he asks, eyes dropping to my hands again.
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Wrestling?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, how about first to pin.”
Bear pauses mid-strike across the room as Nyx loosens his grip on the large bag.
I nod once.
Jasper grabs a hold of the BOB dummy, lugging it out of the way. “You can take a minute if you need to.”
I shake my wrists loosely at my side, kicking my feet out. “I’m ready now,” I mutter calmly.
As if my voice is a waving green flag, he doesn’t hesitate and lunges straight for me, shooting across the mat for my waist. I sprawl instinctively, but my hands slide when I try to frame against his shoulder.
My skin tears, pain flashing white. He pauses.
And that’s his mistake. His grip adjusts, protective instead of tactical.
“Flor—”
I slam my forearm across his neck and pivot hard, using my hips instead of my grip. He wasn’t expecting the torque. We tumble sideways. He almost takes my back, but I’m already moving again, hooking his leg with mine and scissor his knee out from under him.
We crash, Jasper landing half on top of me.
I plant my bare feet against his abdomen and shove back hard.
We’re up again, stalking each other in a slow circle.
His hands hook for my waist, but I drop instantly, sprawl back, and drive my forearm into the back of his neck as I go down.
He adjusts, pivoting and catches my thigh instead.
The mat slams my spine again. He’s on top in a second, trying to secure side control.
His weight is solid as he traps one of my wrists easily, too easily, because my fingers won’t close properly.
He grunts above me. “We need to talk.”
Not right now. I can’t do this right now. I drive my knee into his ribs, using the other to hook around his calf and twist, rolling us with pure lower body force. I end up half mounted, but he bridges violently, throwing me off balance. We slam into the edge of the mat.
“Jesus,” Jett’s voice echoes across the room.
Jasper’s forearm presses across my collarbone. “Still think you’re fine?” he murmurs low enough that only I hear. I know what he means. The Narcan. The removal. “You’re slowing down,” he taunts.
“Don’t say that!” Bear calls.
“Let him.” I flash my teeth, driving my knee up into his ribs and roll us again.
He sucks in a breath as he hits the mat.
We don’t speak as the tension rises. He traps my arm, trying to thread it into a shoulder lock.
I rotate before he can secure it and slip out.
He catches my hips, then lifts and drops me flat to my back.
The mat explodes beneath me. He tries to step over me into a mount, but I hook his ankle with everything I have and drag him down with me. We crash together, chest to chest. For a second, we’re breathing the same air. He looks at me, his hand spreading against my shoulder blade to ground himself.
I roar, moving again, flipping him off. “Get up,” I snap.
He listens, jumping to his feet. We circle, sweat dripping and muscles shaking from strain. I see it in his eyes now: the belief that he can wear me down. I loosen my wrists, my fingers throbbing uselessly at my sides. I lower myself, adjusting.
Bear mutters something from the wall just as Jasper notices the shift. “Thinking about it?” he says, breathless but amused.
“About what?” I grit.
He lunges, going for my hips, an attempt to scoop and drive me through. He almost gets it. His shoulder hits my ribs and we stagger backward three steps.
“About how you liked the way I kissed you,” he smirks.
I don’t answer as my veins explode with fire.
I’ve had enough. I plant my heel hard into the mat.
Before he can think, I drive my elbow down between his shoulder blades like an ax to a log.
His weight dips forward and that’s all I need.
I hook my right leg behind both of his and sweep.
We crash sideways, the mat slamming under us.
He twists fast, trying to recover position.
My leg snakes over his thigh, trapping it.
“Watch her hips,” Nyx calls. But Jasper doesn’t.
I drive my knee straight across his sternum and shove my hip into his centerline.
The air punches out right of him. He bucks hard, muscles straining, sweat slick between us.
I drop my weight lower, using my forearm across his throat and plant my other elbow against the mat beside his head to stabilize.
He tries one last surge, his entire body flexing beneath me.
But he’s trapped, my legs locked around his hips like steel.
Three beats. Bear whistles low. “She did that with no hands brother.”
Nyx says nothing, only watching with a stone-cold expression. Jasper looks up at me, not frustrated, but worried. And it infuriates me.
I lean down just enough for him to hear.
“I think your mind should be focused on how you just got pinned by a woman half your size.” I glance down.
My palms are bleeding onto his shirt. He doesn’t try to escape.
He just studies me like he wants to fix what he sees.
It hurts, but maybe it’s something a broken woman like me needs.
Three weeks later
Matt pulls open the van doors, a large leopard backpack slung over his denim jacket.
Cici zips her Carhartt vest, adjusting the buckle of her jeans as she slips her hand into Matt’s, stepping out onto the damp growing grass.
Her brown square boots press into the earth.
I turn, breathing in the scenery. The air sweeps over my cheeks with the toasty evening sunlight.
Gear clanks and bangs. Jett tosses his head, pulling the tent poles from the floorboard as I pass.
With the team threatening mutiny every other Tuesday, no one has been particularly interested in following protocol lately. We’ve spent more time together than ever, somehow becoming closer in the middle of chaos as Greer avoids us.
Things have been strange between me and Jasper since the sparring room.
Not bad, just strained. Like we’re both pretending not to notice the line we’ve crossed.
I find myself wanting to apologize whenever he walks into a room.
For disappointing him. For confusing him.
For feelings I never asked either of us to have. The list weighs heavy in my mind.
“The cabin is still for sale I see,” Jasper flattens his hand over his brows, shielding his eyes and nods toward the cabin at the top of the valley.
“I pray every day it stays that way,” I respond, lugging out the folded tents.
“Why don’t you buy it?” Nina asks, grabbing onto the other end of the hefty tent.
“A girl can dream. I still have two colleges to pay for.” We drop the tent to the ground.
I turn my palms up, pulling my thumbs free from my holes of the long-sleeved gray cotton thermal.
Tracing the pale lines where my skin has barely healed, I slip my thumbs back into the loops and button up my plum-colored jean jacket, it’s weight steady on my shoulders.
I flex my fingers, rubbing them against the thighs of my boot cut jeans for warmth.
Nyx and Bear emerge from the pines behind the van, hauling chopped wood on their shoulders. Bear’s army camo pants swish frantically, his knees reaching his chest, as he high steps past Nyx. “I swear I heard something,” he shouts as stacked wood falls from his shoulders in a trail behind him.
Nyx plops the wood onto the ground, wiping his calloused hands together. “It’s just your imagination. Don’t be a wuss.”
Bear shakes his head. “Nah, brother, we were being stalked, I just know it.”
Cici sits on a log, her backpack clanking as she pulls it into her lap. She slides a bottle from the open zipper. “I brought the goods!” she squeals, slipping out different shades of liquor, and props them against the log.
Nina skips over, pulling a red solo cup from a plastic package. “Fill me up, buttercup.” She points the toe of her Bean boot to the clear bottle of Tito’s.
“Are you drinking that straight or do you want the Gatorade?” Jasper asks, reaching for a cup of his own.