While she looked around, Elliott pulled out two pairs of gloves. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. I could have been feeling a lot less rage by now.”
Skye turned and looked at him with surprise when he held out the second pair of gloves to her. “Um…I’m not really dressed for this.”
“Then go grab your bag out of your car. I know you always carry a comfy outfit to change into.”
“Oh, really? How do you know that?”
“Because you told me about it the last time you were here,” he said with a grin. “You go do that and I’m going to go change and we’ll meet back down here in five.” When he turned to go, Skye called out and stopped him. “What?”
“This is crazy! You don’t need me here to do this. If anything, you’ll probably feel a lot better if you’re alone.”
“I disagree. I need someone to talk to me and force me to deal with this anger I’ve got and keep me focused. That would be you.”
“Great,” she murmured.
“C’mon! This is better than sitting upstairs and doing the whole psychology thing, isn’t it?” When she didn’t respond, he pushed a little more. “Plus, you’ll get a chance at the bag and get out some of your aggression from the mean clients today.”
“Ugh…I hate how appealing that is,” she grumbled. “Fine. We’ll punch things and get angry and hopefully feel better.”
When they were back upstairs and she was heading out to her car, he yelled out, “Eye of the Tiger, Skye! Eye of the Tiger!” And when he heard her laugh, he knew this was probably the first time he was looking forward to any form of therapy.
Ten minutes later, they were back downstairs and he was helping her lace up her gloves.
“You know,” she began, “I said kickboxing. We never wear gloves in kickboxing.”
“Yeah, well…I’m not big on kicking. I’d rather punch so…here we are.” Once they were ready, he took a step back. “You want to throw the first punch?”
Her eyes went wide and she laughed. “At you or the bag?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. The bag.”
“Well, considering this night was about your therapy, I think I’ll just go stand over against the wall and let you get things going.”
Nodding, he waited until she was a safe distance away and…punched.
And felt…nothing.
He stared at the bag and hit it again.
Still nothing.
“Um…I know I’m no authority on boxing or punching things but shouldn’t you be hitting it harder and…you know…more?”
“I get what you’re saying, but…I’m not feeling it.”
“Okay, I was hoping not to have to do this, but…” She paused and let out a long breath before speaking again. “Elliott Sullivan! What is wrong with you?” she yelled, and he was a little taken aback by how loud and fierce she sounded. “Quit sitting around feeling sorry for yourself and being a baby! Stop letting your exes walk all over you and making your family step in to ban you from dating! Is this the life you want?”
And oddly enough, that worked.
Rearing back, he threw one punch. And then another. And another until he was pounding on the bag. His body got warm and then hot; sweat began to pour off of him as he continued one punch after another and beside him, Skylar was egging him on about his family and the embargo. After a while, he wasn’t so much paying attention to what she was saying as he was to her tone.
His arms began to ache and he was starting to get breathless when…
“You must be a really crappy boyfriend or bad in bed for this to keep happening to you!” she was yelling when he stopped punching.
“Hey!” he snapped, and the bag hit him hard enough to make him stumble. “That was a cheap shot!”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” she said as she blushed. “I guess I got carried away.”
“Yeah, just a little,” he murmured and stepped aside. “You’re up.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. All that yelling really seemed to help me a lot. I’m good.”
“Nuh-uh. That wasn’t the deal.” Walking over, he took her by the shoulders and gave her a playful shove toward the bag. “Go on. Give it a good punch.”
She did punch, but somehow missed the bag.
“Wow.”
“Like we didn’t already know that I’m not athletic or coordinated? Really?”
Actually, he did know that and felt a little bad about making her do this.
“No, you can do this, Skye. Trust me.” Then he stood behind the bag and held it steady. “Go ahead. Try again.”
“Elliott…”
“You can do this. Come on. Pretend this bag is the person who made Leanna cry.”
Her expression turned fierce and she reared back and swung her arm.
And somehow managed to trip and fall.
“Skye, come on. You can’t be this bad at this. It’s like you’re not even trying.”
When she stood up, she glared at him and he knew this was going to be the one. She was going to hit the bag and stay standing up. He went to steady the bag when she punched him in the arm. Hard.
“Ow! What the hell?”
“I do not appreciate you mocking me!” she said, stomping her food to accentuate her point.
“That wasn’t mocking; that was encouraging. And it was no different from what you were doing for me. Teamwork, Skye. It’s all about teamwork.”
“Ugh…this is the worst. And now I’m not even remembering the mean clients because now I’m mad at you!”
“Whatever it takes to get that aggression out. Come on! Do it again!” He held the bag firmly. “And this time, hit the bag and not me.”
“Whatever.” This time she did hit the bag several times and she kept going with tiny little punches, but he saw how hard she was concentrating and felt really proud of her. When she stopped, she was breathless.
Then she smiled.
“Oh, my God! That was amazing! My arms feel like spaghetti, but wow! What a rush!”
Nodding, he agreed. “Okay, my turn again.”
“Do you need me to yell at you again?” she asked with a sly grin as she walked over to the wall.
“Um…maybe. Just…not so insulting this time, okay?”
“Deal.”
For an hour, they took turns and Elliott had to admit that he definitely felt good by the time they called it quits. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but a step in the right direction.
Together they walked up to his kitchen and he grabbed two bottles of water. It took several minutes for either of them to talk.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For coming over and helping me. I think I still need to talk through some stuff, but…this definitely helped.”
“I’m glad, Elliott. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to be fine.”
“I know, but I did come to several conclusions.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Like…I guess I don’t really need an embargo because…I’m done.”
“Done?”