Round Twenty
OLLIE
I walk through the gym’s front doors two days after Rose’s discharge from the hospital, my training bag in one hand and my buzzing phone in the other.
It’s cold as balls outside, and my stomach aches at the thought of leaving Rose at the house alone.
But I need to face the fire and see my friends.
Show proof of life, since text replies are, according to them, not good enough.
I need to spar before I vibrate clear out of my fuckin’ skin.
And Rose needs a chance to stand on her own two feet.
According to her.
Go, Ollie.
I’m fine, Ollie.
I’ll just sit here and watch a movie. I have to get used to this, right? Because you’re back on shift tomorrow, and if I can’t handle an hour alone, how the hell will I handle twelve?
Just because she speaks sense doesn’t mean I have to like it.
But here I am anyway, walking face-first into the sweet stench of old sweat and dirty boxing gloves.
And better yet, my sister is not waiting for me at the front desk, which means I breathe a little easier for the extra five seconds afforded to me.
Not that it lasts.
“There you are!” The moment I stop in the doorway to the main section of the gym, Eliza tosses her phone and tears the guard out of her mouth, tucking the rubber in the waistband of her training shorts for safekeeping.
She cuts a sharp path across the room, and while she moves, Tommy’s eyes come up. Chris’. Cliff’s.
They were rolling. Now, they stare. They were working hard, all of them, while school is in and most others with a gym membership are at their day jobs, but now they pant, searching for fresh air and glaring across at me.
“I was coming to your place this afternoon if you didn’t show.
” Eliza stops in front of me and slams her hand against my solar plexus, damn near folding me in half with the power of her strike.
But then she steps into my arms and hugs me anyway, burying her face against my chest and crushing my ribs with the tight wrap of her arms. “You’ve always been the nice one, Ol.
But not the stupid one. Not impulsive.” Pulling back, she stares up at me through glittering blue eyes.
“You’d give a stranger the shirt off your back.
Your last ten dollars. Your truck, even.
But your home? And then you just up and disappear on us? ”
“I didn’t disappear.” I toss my bag onto the mats, the thwump echoing throughout the expansive room, followed by the creak of the gate on the cage as it opens and Watkins men—two of them, identical, sweaty, and bloody—stride onto the black rubber mats.
Cliff follows, his eyes narrowed as he looks me up and down.
“Ollie!”
“I replied to all of your texts.” I bring my focus back to my sister. “Every single one of them.”
“And you avoided the gym,” she snaps. “Because texting is a cop-out and you know it. It’s not facing accountability head-on.”
“I’m not avoiding accountability! I’m trying to help a scared woman settle into her new home.”
“Which is precisely what we need to talk about. This isn’t you, Ollie. This isn’t sensible.”
“It was the right thing to do.” I look to Tommy because he’s the most impulsive, heart-on-his-sleeve, led-by-his-emotions guy I know. “You already admitted it. This was right.”
“Helping little old ladies cross the street is right, too,” Chris rumbles. “But is it worth it if a semi-truck smears you on the tar?”
Eliza’s worry turns to a mean scowl.
“No one is being smeared anywhere. Jesus. Can we spar, please?” I peek down at my phone… Why? It’s not like Rose will call it. “I have an hour before I’m outta here again.”
“No one is sparring,” Eliza snarls. “We’re talking and—”
“I’ll spar with you.” Tommy comes around and claps me on the back, dragging me around my sister, and, because he commands it, Cliff and Chris step to the side, making room for us to move through. “How is she?”
“Quiet.” I slow near the cage door and toe my sneakers off.
I peel my socks off and tuck them into my shoes, then I pull my shirt over my head, balling the fabric and tossing it down with the rest. Goosebumps attack my skin—because I sure as shit ain’t warm yet—but I fix the shorts on my hips and don’t bother with gloves.
Or a mouthguard. I simply rotate my arms and climb the steps until my feet touch the canvas.
“She had a nasty nightmare the first night after discharge. Last night seemed a little better, but I think she’s hiding it from me.
” Bouncing on my feet, I pray for warmth soon.
For my heart to beat faster and for my blood to grow hotter.
And while I move, Tommy follows me into the cage and closes the door with an ominous snick.
“First time caught her off guard, so it freaked her the fuck out and messed her up. Last night, she was tossing and turning all night, crying in her sleep.” I swallow the ache in my throat and turn, ready to fight.
But Tommy’s faster, his fist slamming down on my jaw with a painful fuckin’ crack.
My head whips around, my neck popping in response.
Then he skips to the side, laughing under his breath.
“Caught her off guard, kinda how I just caught you off guard?” He claps his hands together, rotating his shoulders. “That was because you made us worry.”
“You’re an asshole.” I bring my hands up in case he tries for a second cheap shot. “Champions don’t rely on trickery, Watkins. They face their opponent fairly.”
“Fuck they do.” He bounces on the balls of his feet, ducking in with a jab and stepping out again when I parry. “Champions win. That’s the only criterion. The rest is a matter of style. Why is she having nightmares? Did she have them at the hospital?”
I risk a peek to the left, to where my sister clings to the cage wall and glowers.
She’s smaller than Tommy, but fuck, she’s meaner, too.
“I’m not a shrink, so I don’t know why she’s having nightmares.
But I have a working theory.” I dodge a jab by the skin of my teeth, the breeze from Tommy’s flying fist blowing my hair back. “She dreamed that I’d gotten hurt.”
Eliza bristles in my peripherals.
“I figure she’s scared, since I’m her only friend right now. It makes sense that when you’re down to your last dollar, you kinda get nervous about losing that dollar.”
“I’d know.” Tommy swoops in, slamming a knee to the canvas and wrapping his arms around my hips.
I don’t fight it. I don’t even try. I just brace for the fall and wish for the mouth guard I was too stupid to grab.
Because when my back hits the canvas and the floor shakes beneath us, my teeth rattle and my head sings.
Fast as a viper, he scrambles over top of me, taking mount and rearing his fist back.
He could knock me the fuck out with a single hit—he knows it.
I know it—so he maintains his position and holds the strike.
But he searches my eyes. “I know what it is to be so fuckin’ hungry, I’d dream of food.
And in those dreams, some motherfucker was taunting me, tossing the food over a cliff so I couldn’t have it. Did you fall off a cliff in her dream?”
Yeah. Pretty fuckin’ much.
I drop my arms to the side and starfish the floor. Shitty fighting. Terrible defense. But I haven’t slept properly in days, and even if I had, I don’t wanna hit my friend anyway.
“She dreamed someone attacked me. Bad,” I clarify on a sigh. “She was inconsolable, screaming and kicking and sobbing, and when she finally woke and realized I was okay, she was devastated. She felt guilty for something she didn’t even do.”
“Maybe that was a warning.” Eliza grabs the cage fence, her nose poked through the wire. “She’s nice. She’s sweet. She’s a victim. We get it. But she’s a stranger, and you don’t actually know her. Now she’s sleeping in your house and thinking really horrible things about you.”
“She dreamed it.”
“It’s the same thing! It was still her brain, Oliver. It was still her thoughts. Just because it happened while she was asleep, instead of when she was awake, doesn’t make this any less concerning. That just means she’s more guarded during the day.”
“I keep thinking she’s escaped a dangerous situation; like a boyfriend beating on her, an abusive relationship.
” I bring my eyes back to Tommy. “Ya know? The kind a woman might run from in the middle of the night with not enough clothes, no money, and no consideration for the cars that could run her down.” I draw a long, shuddering breath.
“Other times, I have no fucking clue. Because she’s not afraid of men. She’s afraid of everyone.”
“She’s not afraid of you.” Cliff climbs onto the cage platform beside Eliza, his shoulder brushing hers, while Chris sandwiches her in on the other side. “You said she was freaking out about the nurses as well. The other patients. The lunch lady. Her fear was for everyone… except you.”
“Which is why I brought her to my home.” I bridge my hips high, surprising Tommy and tossing him off with a buck and sweep of my legs.
But I don’t roll and fight. I lie on my back and stare up at the steel rafters.
“Sending her to a group home felt cruel. But maybe bringing her to my house was the true cruelty. She adapted to my presence because I made sure I was around enough to get her used to me. By the end of two weeks in the hospital, she was used to Janine, too. And the other nurses. Even Francine.”
“So you’re having second thoughts?” Eliza demands. “You want her gone?”
“No.” I draw my legs up, bending my knees, then I drop my head to the side and meet my sister’s hard stare. “I want her at the house with me. But wanting something doesn’t always mean it’s the right thing.”
“Like chocolate cake,” Tommy rumbles in a faraway tone. “We all want chocolate cake. Doesn’t mean we should have it every day.”
Pretty much.