His expression softens and he looks over to Ryan like he has all the answers. “Come on, Katie,” Ryan cajoles. “Punch the ever-loving shit out of the bag. Give it all your anger.”
I look at him—really look at him, and I finally understand what he’s trying to do. He’s giving me an outlet. A way to take out all of the burning aggression that is eating a hole through me.
Ryan nods toward the bag. “You’ve got this.”
Carlos moves behind the bag to hold it for me, and I take a step forward, rolling my neck and straightening my back. Instead of pushing everything I feel down or away, I allow it to bubble up to the surface, and a loud sob escapes my lips.
Normally, I’d be embarrassed for doing the ugly cry in front of this stranger, Ryan, and anyone else who might be watching—but I’m not. I reach back with everything I’ve got and I punch the bag dead center. It barely moves. The thing is just as heavy as I thought it was.
But that one punch felt so fucking good.
I go at it again and again, switching my fists. It’s uncoordinated and sloppy. I’m yelling and grunting and crying my eyes out.
But I’m doing it.
I’m pushing all the overwhelming anger and heartbreak out of me and into this bag, over and over again. I even try a couple of kicks, but those don’t seem to make me feel as good as punching does.
I have no idea how long I go, but eventually, I collapse to the mat in an exhausted, sweaty heap. Ryan sits down next to me, his legs bent and his forearms resting on his knees as he waits me out. I’m breathing hard and heavy, but I feel lighter. Freer. My anger is nowhere to be found. I’m sure it will come back, I don’t for a second think that this was the cure, but it helped.
It helped, and I think I need Ryan.
He just saved me.
I throw my arms around his neck, practically tackling him down to the rubber mat. “Thank you,” I breathe into him. “Oh my god, thank you so much.”
He holds me—sweaty, smelly, disgusting mess and all.
“If you ever want to train, let me know,” Carlos says from above us.
“Thank you, Carlos. That was fantastic.”
He smiles warmly down at me and then walks off.
“Come on, Katie. Let’s go get you cleaned up and fed.”
I pull back and kiss his cheek before prying myself off the floor.
“You’re brilliant, Ryan,” I beam at him. “That was exactly what I needed. How will I ever get by without you?”
He doesn’t say anything back—it was rhetorical after all, well for the most part— he just helps me remove my gloves. Ryan may think my words were said in an off-the-cuff way, but they weren’t.
I meant them wholeheartedly. I’m starting to get to the point where I’m no longer excited for the next location. Because each place we go brings us closer and closer to Seattle. And I’m suddenly very interested in prolonging my time with Ryan.
12
Kate
* * *
Amarillo and Albuquerque end up being uneventful. They’re a series of standard hotels and amazing Tex-Mex food and pools. No complaints, but the part of the trip that I’m really getting excited about is ahead.
The drive through Arizona is freaking hot, since most of it is desert. Nothing but flat dry earth and endless blue sky as far as the eye can see. I make us stop along the way and take a million pictures with my phone.
I’m sure Ryan thinks I’m nuts, but I don’t care.
I’ve noticed he takes plenty of pictures himself.
Ever since my punching match with the bag in Dallas, Ryan has been…a little distant. I wouldn’t say he thinks less of me or anything, but he has definitely changed, and I don’t know why. I try to talk to him, ask him questions, and behave like I always have, but his answers are short and direct and he doesn’t tease me or touch me the way I have grown accustomed to.
He barely even looks at me.
After the longest drive ever, through construction and traffic and desert, we pull into the hotel late at night. We’re both exhausted and somehow dirty, and Ryan seems to be in a mood, so I offer to go and check us in.
“Good evening and welcome,” a short man with black hair and dark skin says with a thick Spanish accent. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No, we were hoping you have two rooms available.”
He looks at me like I’m insane. “I’m sorry, we only have one room left and it is a king room.”
Crap. Ryan will not like that. In truth, I don’t know how I feel about it either.
“Okay, give me a sec,” I start to walk away and then pause. “Can you please hold the room for a minute while I talk to my friend?”
“Sure.”
I doubt anyone is going to claim it since it is so late, but still.
“Hey, Ryan?” I call out and then find him pacing, staring at his phone. He looks up and does not look pleased to see me. “Sorry to interrupt,” I nod toward his phone. No response, so I continue. “Um. They only have one room left and it’s a king room.”
He glares at me like it is my fault that we are in a pattern of not making reservations ahead of time. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Okay, this is not the reaction I was hoping for. I shake my head. “No. Sorry.” I bite my lip, suddenly feeling like shit, because I’m the one who really wanted to come to the Grand Canyon. “Do you want to drive around and look for another place?”
“No,” he snaps, running a frustrated hand through his wild hair. “I’m fucking tired and sick of driving.”
“So I’ll just tell the guy we’ll take it?” I hedge, shifting my weight.
“Whatever, Katie.”
I guess I’ll take that as a yes. Making my way back up to the counter, I give the guy my credit card and he gives me two room keys.
“Ryan?” Damn, why do I suddenly feel so nervous to talk to him? I hate this feeling. “I have our room.” My voice is meek.
“Great. Looking forward to it.”
We get up to the room, which is actually pretty nice, and he slams his suitcase down. We have clean clothes; we did our laundry in a laundromat at our last stop.
“Why don’t you go shower first, princess, and I’ll just make up my pallet on the floor.” His sarcasm and disdain are killing me. I’ve officially had enough.
I slash my arm through the air in front of us. “What the hell is your problem?” I yell, and he looks stunned for a flash before his eyes narrow in anger. Well, fuck that. “I get it. You’re tired. I’m tired. We’ve been on the road for two weeks together, and you’re sick of me, but ease the fuck up.”
“Ease the fuck up?” he yells back. “Katie, this is bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit?” We’re both working up a good head of steam here. He paces around in a small circle in front of me.
“I’ve been stuck in a tiny ass car with you all day and now I have to sleep on the goddamn floor.” He points down at the carpet next to the bed.
“I never said you have to sleep on the floor.” I point at him. “You did. It’s a king bed, Ryan, I’m sure we can both fit.”