I go another few rounds with Crusher before calling time on my pad work and heading to the other side of the boxing club, where the equipment and mats are located, to begin my strength training. It’s late Friday night, and most of the guys have finished their sessions and left already, so the place is virtually deserted.
I complete a few sets of push-ups, pull-ups, squats, and dips before doing three rounds with the sway bag, and then I call it a night. I want to talk to Jimmy before he closes up.
Mopping my brow with a towel, I drape it around my neck and head toward the small office Jimmy uses to handle business. I chug half a bottle of water down my parched throat before stepping up to the door. It’s ajar, so I poke my head in. “You got time to talk?”
He looks up from the papers spread all over his desk with an instant smile. “For you, kid, always. Come in and shut the door.” He sets his pen down and claws a hand through his thick gunmetal-gray hair.
I sit on the worn brown leather couch pushed up against the side wall and swallow. I need to talk to someone before I drive myself crazy, and Jimmy is the only man for the job. I can’t talk to West or any of my buddies, for obvious reasons. Jimmy has looked out for me since I joined the club a few months after moving to Colorado Springs, and he’s always been like a father figure to me. He takes an active interest where my old man doesn’t give a shit. Dad doesn’t object to me coming here—boxing is a manly sport, so he approves even if he can no longer beat me because I beat back harder—but he doesn’t champion it either.
“What’s up, son?” Jimmy removes his black-framed glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Placing the glasses on the desk, he rests his hands in front of him and gives me his undivided attention. “You look troubled, and I’ve noticed you’ve been putting in extra time all week. What’s on your mind?”
I clear my throat and sit forward, leaning my elbows on my knees. “I need some advice.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Jimmy retrieves a bottle of whiskey and a glass from his desk drawer. “I assume you don’t want one,” he says, arching a brow as he pours a generous measure.
I shake my head. “I’m driving tonight.” Sometimes I jog to and from the gym, if I have missed my daily five-a.m. run. I’m conscious of my family background, and while I like a drink as much as the next guy, I don’t usually overdo it. I’m constantly watching in case it becomes a crutch. When I first moved to town, I was abusing alcohol and drugs. Using them to numb my pain until I found West and boxing. They set me on the straight and narrow. Kendall helped too. She suggested I needed a physical outlet to vent my frustration and stress. She even found this place for me.
“Spit it out, son.” Jimmy leans back in his chair, lifting the glass to his weathered lips.
“There’s this girl, well, woman and…”
A wry chuckle rips from his lips. “I thought it might be girl trouble, but it’s not like you to seek advice with the ladies. From what I’ve heard, you do just fine.”
I roll my eyes. “I swear the guys are worse gossips than high-school girls.”
“True that.” His warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he chuckles again. “Go on.”
“It’s complicated.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t have anyone to talk to, and I know I can tell you and you won’t judge me or betray my confidence.”
He nods, leaning forward a little. “Color me intrigued.”
“I love her,” I blurt. “I have for a long time, but I only let myself admit it recently because—” I pause to take a drink of water, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“Because?” Jimmy coaxes when I drain the water and toss the empty bottle in the trash.
“Because it was inappropriate, and nothing would have happened.”
“Inappropriate how? Who is this woman?”
“It’s Kendall Hawthorne,” I admit, my heart galloping. A tiny hint of shock splays across his face. “She’s West’s mom.” He is aware who West Hawthorne is. Most everyone in town knows our QB because he’s a star on the field and clearly going places.
He steeples his fingers against the thin layer of silvery scruff on his chin. “I know who she is. You never forget a woman like that.” He chuckles again. “I still remember the day she showed up here. Pretty as a picture but clearly out of her depth. The guys were tripping over themselves to offer her assistance.”
“I’ll bet.” I rub a hand along the back of my neck. “I tried to just see her as West’s mom. To tell myself it was only a stupid crush or hormones or the fact she was nice and tried to help me.” I shrug, attempting to loosen the tense muscles in my shoulders. This is harder to admit than I thought.
“But it’s not.”
“It’s not.” I lick my lips, preparing to admit something I’m scared to even admit to myself. “This is going to make me sound like a pussy, but it feels like fate brought me here to find her. The instant I met her, I felt the most intense connection, and it hasn’t gone away. It’s only gotten worse, and—” I stop talking, knotting my hands together and looking at the floor as I prepare to say the words. “I see her in my dreams. See us, but it’s like we were from a different time.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, and I look up. I don’t see any derision or humor on his face, and that spurs me on. “It’s the same dream I’ve been having for years. We’re in a river. It’s nighttime, and the moon casts shadows over the pyramids in the background. Palm trees line both sides of the river, and rudimentary mud-brick homes are scattered in the near distance. We’re alone. We have our arms around one another, and we’re kissing.” My heart careens around my chest as I visualize the image in my mind’s eye. I have seen it so much in my dreams I can instantly recall it. “I’m older, and she’s younger. We look different, but it’s still her. When I look into her eyes, I see through to her soul, and I know it’s Kendall. Even though it’s only a dream, I feel her in my arms. I feel her heart beating against mine and her pulse thrumming against my fingertips. I feel the featherlight touch of her hand as she runs it up and down my chest and the warmth of her breath against my ear as she whispers how much she loves me.”
I glance up at the old man. He’s watching me with keen intensity. Jimmy nods, urging me to continue.
I drag my lip between my teeth as pain lances through my chest. This part always hurts. “After we’re together, I help her to dry off at the river’s edge, and then I hold her hand and lead her away. I guess I’m taking her home, but we stay in the shadows, running under the trees and crouching along low walls. Until a group of men surround us. They’re dark-skinned, wearing loincloths and carrying spears and shields. They take her from me. I’m fighting. Kendall is screaming and then—” My eyes lock on his. “Then everything turns black.”
“Well, shit.”
I blow air out of my mouth. “That’s one way of describing it.”
His lips curve at the corners. “You sure you’re not high, son? You take one too many hits to the head?” I narrow my eyes at him, and he chuckles. “I’m just yanking your chain.” He swigs another mouthful of whiskey. “That’s very intriguing.”