16. Weston
Weston
“Come on, you can hit harder than that,” I taunt Ryker as I bounce on the balls of my feet. We’ve been at it for nearly four hours now, with minimal breaks between rounds. Blood drips from my nose, but I wipe it away with the back of my hand and take my stance again.
“I’m out,” he says and puts up both hands.
“What do you mean ‘you’re out’?” I follow him toward the edge of the ring, desperate for more. More hits, more exhaustion. Because maybe if my body takes a beating, then the pain in my chest will let up.
“I’m not going to beat you bloody just so you can choose to ignore what you should be facing head-on.” He takes off his hand wraps, then downs some water from his water bottle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryker eyes me, brow raised. “You and I both know what you’re doing.”
“Avoiding Reese?” Sawyer announces as he comes into the gym, bag in hand. “Man, Cowboy, what did Tank do to your face?”
“I’m fine.”
“You were purposely taking hits,” Ryker accuses. “And I have no interest in serving you pain.”
He’s right. And knowing that he sees it, too, has defeat settling over me. “I need the distraction.”
“You’re not getting any more of it from me.” Ryker tosses his wraps down and rolls his shoulders.
“Don’t look at me, either,” Sawyer says when my gaze shifts to him.
“Not too long ago, you were doing the exact same thing after Anastasia rejected you,” I snap.
“Except I wasn’t taking hits on purpose. I was just distracted. Come on, Cowboy, you’re better than this.”
But am I?
Am I really?
Because I haven’t even been able to sleep in my bed since she was in it the night of that storm. No matter how many times I wash the sheets, I smell her. She used my shampoo, but it’s not my clove bodywash I smell.
It’s her.
Jasmine and fresh linen.
And it guts me.
“I’ll step up.” Zane plucks the headphones off his head and crosses over from where he’d been doing solo mat work.
“Cap—” Sawyer starts.
“No, Cowboy needs to blow off steam. I’m happy to help.” His tone is clipped, his expression angry. Still, he knows what happened the last time Reese broke me. Is he afraid I’ll go off the deep end again?
Two weeks ago, I would have said that I’d be fine.
But now? I’m headed straight for the edge of a cliff I’d love nothing more than to jump from.
Zane quickly wraps his knuckles, then slips his mouthguard in and crosses into the ring. After rolling his shoulders, he bounces on the balls of his feet and takes his stance.
I move forward, charging with the pure desire to burn off as much energy as I can. Zane moves to the side and slams his fist into my back. Pain shoots through me as I fall forward, but I use it to my advantage and roll onto the mat, then bounce back up and spin toward him.
He moves to the side and blocks a kick before dropping down and swinging out his legs to bring me down to the mat. My lungs burn, muscles on fire, but I still get back up. So long as I can stand, I’ll get back up.
“You’re doing it again,” Zane says.
“Doing what?” I charge forward and grab him around the waist, taking him down to the mat.
Zane drives his elbow down between my shoulders, loosening my grip enough that he rolls free and gets up to his feet. “Trying to kill the pain rather than facing it.”
Anger surges through me, and I sprint forward toward him. He moves out of the way, and I hit the ropes.
Ryker, Sawyer, and now Garrison are all watching, arms crossed, expressions taut.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap.
Zane rushes forward and grabs me, putting me into a headlock. I slam my fist into his ribs. Once. Twice. But I can’t get enough leverage to actually make it hurt. He releases me, shoving me forward onto the mat.
“You’re better than this, Weston. We both know it. You’ve spent your entire life trying to outrun what you’ve never wanted to face. First with your dad, then with Violet, and finally with Reese.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The baby?” he asks. “The fact that the two of you were married?”
His words stop me in my tracks, and I stare over at him, hands curling into fists at my sides.
“Yeah, I know, Weston. I’ve known for a while now. Brenda brought it to my attention when she did deep backgrounds on all of you back when we first started.”
“How did she know?” I growl, fury burning a hole in my chest.
He’s known this whole time? Brenda knew? Who else knows?
“It was her job to know,” Zane snaps. He crosses toward me.
“Then she made it mine. It all made sense once I found out, though, the fact that you were so intent on putting yourself in the ground or a prison cell after she left.” He stops just in front of me.
“You want to take out your anger on someone? Take it out on me. But stop punishing yourself for what was out of your control.”
“My marriage failing was in my control.” I jam my finger into my chest, tears burning in the corners of my eyes. “I was so wrapped up in—”
“In what?” Zane snaps as he moves in closer. “In burying your sister? In dealing with your mom, who couldn’t bother to be sober long enough to actually do anything to help?”
His words stop me in my tracks. The vice that has lived around my heart for longer than I can remember tightens its hold.
“You’ve dealt with more tragedies than you should have, but you don’t have to be one.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I take a step back, trying really hard to curb the anger burning me up from the inside.
“I’ve been by your side nearly our entire lives.
I watched you find God in the midst of a childhood that—for lack of a better word—sucked.
Then I watched you take hits from your dad, getting beaten bloody but refusing to say a word about it.
Why do you think you like to take hits now?
Because you can’t seem to figure out that you don’t deserve the pain, Weston. ”
I shake my head, trying not to hear him.
“And after that? I watched you step into that father role for your sister, whom you had to bury. Brother, I watched you fall in love, then lose that love right on the heels of burying your sister.”
Closing my eyes, it’s a struggle to remain standing beneath the weight of everything he is laying on me.
Every word of it is another layer of concrete.
“Then I had a front row seat to the greatest loss you ever faced. Your faith. Your hope. You gave up on God the same day you gave up on yourself.”
“God?” I would laugh, but what’s the point? “Where has He been? Let me answer that one for you. Nowhere.” I start toward the edge of the ring, desperate to get out of here.
“You’re better than this, Weston,” Zane says again.
“You know, I think you’ve been seriously overestimating me our entire lives. It’s time you stop living in who you think I could be and start seeing who I am.”
“It’s you who doesn’t see who you are,” Zane calls out. “Because when push comes to shove? You’re the guy anyone can count on. Every. Single. One of us is alive because of you.”
I stop moving toward the door and turn toward Zane and Ryker, Sawyer, and Garrison, who are standing just outside the ring, all of them watching me. The understanding looks on their faces make my stomach churn.
“Because I’m a killer. Is that really something you think I should be proud of?” I snap.
“You’re not a killer.”
I shake my head. “Once again, you’re choosing the version of me you want to see. Well, here I am, Zane! I ruined the one chance at happiness that I had, and now she’s intent on moving on with this Max guy. I’m just the pathetic loose end she can’t seem to tie up.”
“You’ve been through hell on earth, brother,” Zane says as he climbs out of the ring.
“I won’t pretend otherwise. But you’re standing here because God has a plan for your life.
Because He sees what you cannot.” He points at my heart.
“He sees your heart, and as soon as you stop trying to fill that hole with more pain and self-loathing, how about you focus on what’s really missing? ”
“And what’s that? Since you seem to know me so well, Cap. Go on, tell me what I’m missing.”
He reaches up and grips my shoulder. “Faith.”
Faith.
How am I supposed to have faith in anything? Even as I stand here, staring at the exterior of Stormwatch Landing’s church, I see nothing but a building. A concrete foundation, wooden beams, shingles on the roof.
In fact, I’ve been standing here, leaning against my truck, for the better part of an hour, and all I feel is emptiness.
God doesn’t seem to have any interest in me, and I can’t say that I blame Him for it. Despite what Zane seems to think, I’ve lived most of my life not caring about anything but the next mission.
I’ve lived day to day, surviving the only way I know how.
Sure, I’ve tried to do what was right. Tried to stay on the moral side of things, but there have been times I’ve stepped into the shadows, enticed by the distraction I could find there.
Every single time I try to open myself up, try to face what happened, I end up right back in the pit. Why can’t someone just do me a favor and fill it in already? Bury me inside and let me suffer in the darkness, where no one can see me.
“You look lost.”
I turn my head toward an older man walking on the sidewalk. I peer into the darkness behind him, trying to figure out how I managed to be so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t see him coming.
“I’m fine. Just taking a breather.”
“Yeah? I could use one, too.” He stops right beside my truck. “Do you mind?”
“Go for it.”
He leans back next to me and stares up at the church. “Such a beautiful building, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve always thought so. But you know, church has nothing to do with the building.
” When I don’t respond, he turns toward me.
“It’s the people gathering, celebrating the Living God, no matter what is going on in their lives.
” He smiles, and there’s an odd sort of peace surrounding him, something I can’t quite pinpoint.
Unease grows within me in response. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” He smiles. “It’s hard to see the light when you’re stuck in the dark.
But that doesn’t mean the light is absent.
It’s always there. All you have to do is flip the switch.
” He puts his hands together in front of him as though he’s praying, then glances up at the sky before dropping them and looking at me again.
“Thanks for the rest, Weston. I hope you find what you’re looking for. ”
He starts whistling and continues down the sidewalk before turning the corner and disappearing from my sight. The evening goes silent, and I rush forward, coming up on the corner, too.
Except, when I reach it, there’s no one there.
Just darkness and the soft glow from a streetlamp.
What just happened?