Chapter 38
I duck in order to avoid getting punched by Jayce, slide under his arm, then turn around, just as he does, too, and jab him in the stomach.
His upper-body bends forward at the impact, and he hisses out a curse.
I tighten the tape around my palm and fingers as I wait for him to recover. “It’s been months, Jayce,” I tell him, then shake my head. “You’ve gotta stop going easy on me. I know for a fact you could have stopped that blow. Come on, man; just fuckin’ let it go.”
We’re both panting from being at it for over an hour now, and the sweat coating my body is just as inconvenient as Jayce’s stubbornness towards…well, letting it go.
He straightens, and the flickering overhead lights in the underground gym throw a brief spotlight on his hardened features.
“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he says a little hoarsely, then clears his throat before resuming his fight stance.
I mirror him, then go in for another punch.
He swerves just in time, then reels an arm back, but I block him when he’s close enough, and hit him with an uppercut – right in the chin.
He barely manages to keep his balance, and spits blood on the concrete floor before wiping his mouth with the back of his taped hand.
“This is what I’m talking about,” I say, then push my damp curls away from my forehead. “Every day we do this, you give me stupid fucking openings to hit you; to fucking hurt you. You really thought I wasn’t noticing any of that?”
He ignores me and moves forward, but I step away, making him meet my eyes.
“Jayce, come on.”
“What the hell do you want me to say?” he sneers.
“That you’re done blaming yourself for what happened 3 months ago,” I sneer back, then get in his space.
He huffs out a chuckle. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a crucial enough mistake that I need to remind myself of it in order to not repeat it.”
“Bullshit,” I spit out. “And for the last time: it was an accident. Nothing more, nothing less. So you better get your shit together, Jayce, because if you don’t, then so help me God, I’ll shove common-fucking-sense down your throat if that’s what it’ll take for you to wake the hell up.”
We stare each other down, and through the array of emotions I see in his eyes, the one that shines quite clearly is acceptance.
It’s something similar to what I’d seen all those years ago in the prison cell, when he’d told me why he’d been arrested, and how right it’d felt to have killed his brother.
He’s accepted his fault with what happened with Rizwana, but what he’s also put into his head is the wrongful idea that he somehow deserves to be forever punished for his little slip-up. And that’s not good. Far from it, actually.
“Do you want me to punch you in the dick, or have you understood everything I’ve just told you?” I say.
“It’s not a button I can switch off on a whim, Ledge,” he states.
“Well, then tell me what’ll help. I wanna be able to do something about it.”
“You’ve already taken the brunt of my stupidity,” he tells me with furrowed brows. “And, it’ll be a while before I stop accusing myself for letting that happen, but I’ll do it; I’ll forget.”
“Only because I’m forcing you to?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You’re not forcing me; you just care in your own way. Besides, if you and Alex and Varsha don’t push me to move on, then who will? I just have to come to terms with…I don’t know, the thoughts in my head. And when I do, I’ll be less of a douche to you and the others.”
I smirk. “You know we love you for your douchery. You wouldn’t be as exciting otherwise.”
“First of all, douchery is not a word. Second of all, stop looking so fucking smug, or else I won’t hesitate in wiping the floor with your pretentious little ass. And you know just as well as I do that you do not want that.”
My smirk widens at his words. “Do your worst, brother. I can take ya, you know that.” I pull my damp vest off my body and throw it behind me.
Jayce chuckles and does the same with his t-shirt, then quickly goes in for a strike.
I evade it with ease, then jab him in the gut. He groans but recovers quickly, then socks me in my now-healed left side, making me laugh.
We parry each jab with counter-punches of our own – completely out of breath but still pumped by adrenaline. The thrill is too high, and so is the need to be the one to land the final blow.
Duck, rise, block, hit, and repeat. It’s like a dance of sorts – one we’ve been mastering for over a decade now.
I press my feet on the ground, then use my bodyweight to push myself up into a jump.
My fist is ready to hit home, but at the last minute, Jayce moves to the opposite side, rendering me off balance, then slides behind me before grabbing me into a sleeper hold.
His arms are locked around my neck, and he pushes my head forward against his vise grip, leaving me with no other choice but to tap his bicep in submission.
I let him move away from me, let him put his guard down, and then, when I’m sure he isn’t expecting it, I turn around and spear him with all the strength I’ve got left.
My right shoulder throbs at the force, and Jayce and I all but crash against the floor in an unceremonious heap.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses as he clutches his middle whilst lying on the concrete. A few seconds of silence follow, and then, he starts laughing out loud. “Fuck, man,” he says, then laughs again. “You really got me.”
I laugh along with him, then lie down next to him. “You okay?” I ask.
“I think I broke a rib or two.”
“Too bad. I was aiming for all of ‘em.”
He chuckles. “And you?”
“Probably sprained my shoulder.”
“Good.”
I laugh again and turn my head in order to look at him. He does the same.
“You excited for your date tonight?” he questions with a gleam in his eyes.
A grin creeps its way up to my lips. “Yeah.” My voice sounds a little foreign to me, given how there’s a jovial tone to it. But I embrace it, because it feels good to be enthusiastic about something like this.
I’ve planned a date for Cignette and I tonight, and I’ve decided to cook something for us instead of ordering in or going to a restaurant. Mad, isn’t it?
Alex is the cook of our family, and as someone who’s been living off of his beautifully put-together meals for over three years now, I can safely say that me making something edible might quickly turn into a delicious hazard for Cigs and I. But I’m going to try, because:
A) Alex will be there to make sure I don’t end up burning the house down.
B) How hard can working in the kitchen actually be, right? I’m already an expert at slicing meat, so this should be a piece of cake.
Or not.
I honestly don’t know.
I shift and get to my feet, cursing at the sharp pain in my shoulder.
“Where’re you going?” Jayce asks from the floor.
I rotate my right arm to release some pressure, then look down at him. “The grocery store.”
He visibly chokes on his words. “Wh-what?”
“I’m going to the grocery store, you asshole.”
He clutches his stomach and starts cackling – really cackling. “Dude…”
I roll my eyes and walk away from him – towards the gym’s locker room. “I hope the ceiling falls on you and ends up breaking all your damn ribs to dust,” I mutter.
“I heard you!” he hollers, making me chuckle and shake my head.