The mood is pretty somber in the gym already. Brawler’s off hitting the punching bag in the corner. It swings on its swivel hooks, the chains clanging as he puts all his energy into hitting the bag. It’s taking a beating, too.
My eyes bulge out of my head. I’m going to be staring that down tomorrow. He’s going to hurt me. It’s not that I can’t inflict damage either, but his fists are like cement blocks. He’s one of the most skilled fighters I’ve ever met, and that’s not to mention the fact that I care about him. I don’t want him to hurt me, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to separate the two. At least tomorrow, I do.
“This is a terrible fucking idea,” Jax says, eyeing the big man taking out all his rage on the poor leather-wrapped punching bag.
I try to shake myself out of the fear swallowing me. I can’t let Brawler feel worse than he already does. He’d rather rip out his right arm than fight me, but we’re left with no choice.
I yearn for a day with choices. Opportunities. Moving around at my own discretion. It’s why I’m here after all. Freedom. I just had to give some up for a little while to gain a lot.
I yell at myself internally to get over myself. I’ve been in fights before and this will be no different. I have to treat it like any other.
Brawler moves around the bag. He sees me out of the corner of his eye and stops, lowering his guard. His chest rises and lowers. The ink creeping up his neck stands out like a Picasso on a muted background. I drop my water bottle and towel and move toward him. He waits for me where he is, the bag swinging to my right.
“Kyla...” His voice is a desperate plea, as if I have the power to stop this. As if I have the power to tell him this doesn’t need to happen. None of us have the power right now. We’re all just puppets on a string until we can take it back.
“Let’s give them a moment,” Mag says in the background.
My eyes fill with salty tears.
“That’s it. I’m not doing it,” he says, moving forward to cup my face.
“You have to,” I say, checking the tears as best I can.
“It’s not worth it,” he growls.
I move my hands up his neck. I trace the angel wings, one light and one dark. “We don’t want to become these people, right?” One sacrificial lamb, and one wolf. We have to play the game and play it smarter than them.
“I can’t hit you,” he seethes. “It’s not in me.”
“Tomorrow, it will be. Tomorrow, pretend to be a different person. You’re not you, and I’m not me.”
“Impossible,” he says, shaking his head. “I’d recognize you anywhere. What’s in you is in me, and when two people like that find each other, they can’t just wish it away.”
“You know you have to,” I say. A tear finally escapes, tracking down my cheek. I never thought I’d be begging a guy to kick my ass. It’s true you can find strength in anything. This might be the moment I need the most strength. For both of us. “Then think about the future,” I tell him, grabbing onto that thought and holding it closely. “It’s a means to an end.”
“I thought I was helping you!” He turns and slams his fist into the heavy bag, sending it flying.
“I’ll never forget that,” I tell him. I hold out my hand to steady the bag. “How you walked into that room with no thought of your own well-being. You sacrificed a part of yourself. I get it.”
“And I’ll be giving up another tomorrow the first time my fist lands. I might as well just carve myself into pieces right now, Kyla. There’s no way this is going to work.”
“It will,” I argue, trying to make myself believe it as much as him. “It has to. For the same reason you walked into that room and sat at that table with the people you despise is why I’m going to stand in front of you tomorrow and beg you to hit me. Because I’m doing it for you. If you’re good enough to sacrifice yourself for me, then I’m good enough to sacrifice myself for you. I want to. Do you hear me? I want to.”
His jaw tenses. It works over and over, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Eventually, he nods once, conceding with slumped shoulders.
I can’t congratulate myself over this. Both Brawler and I know that crawling back from this will be a feat, but I owe it to him. He gave his all for me, and now I’m giving my all. That’s how relationships work. They’re not one-sided. They’re a mess of love and heartbreak. Of destruction and building back up. After all, the only person who can truly break you is someone you love. If they weren’t, you wouldn’t care enough to get hurt.
I walk away. I can’t stand to look in his pained eyes anymore and know I’m putting it there. I plead with Magnum with my eyes, and he walks over to Brawler while I slip inside the office. Jax stands, but when I lean against the wall and slide to my butt, he sits back in his chair and wheels over. The chair creaks in its quest to get closer to me. He pulls a tissue out of the box on the combined desks and hands it over.
I catch the tears falling and then drop my head back against the door, staring up at the tiled ceiling. Water stains cover the surface. Jagged, brown circles in various sizes. Marked there from who knows how long ago. A memory of a moment in time when something unexpected happened. “Your ceiling is gross,” I choke out.
Jax follows my stare then glances back at me.
My breath hiccups as I try to keep from bawling.
“I love this place. Shitty ceiling tiles and everything.”
I nod, knowing the feeling. That’s why I’m still in the Heights because even though I know things aren’t good right now, I’m better here than I was out there. Because of them. All of them.
“Don’t come to the fight tomorrow,” I tell him on a shaky breath.
“You’ll have to convince Finn, not me.”
“I mean it,” I say, my voice hardening. “Just find a way to make him stay home.”
He tilts his head. “I hope this isn’t because you don’t want us to see you lose.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that.” I wad the tissue up and use a dry section to wipe my eyes again. “It’s not safe. I don’t want you guys near the gang. Promise me?”
“Promise,” Jax says. He leans back in the chair. He’s fiddling with a pencil in his hands, but he tosses it onto his desk, and it rolls over the shiny veneer surface. “For the record, I already thought you were badass, but what you’re doing makes you the strongest woman I know.”
I choke out a laugh. I’m sitting here bawling in his office while running away from something that hurts too much. That doesn’t sound strong at all. “Yeah, right.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself, but not many people would do what you’re doing. Taking a loss for someone else. Hell, it’s not even that. You’re throwing yourself away for him. To help him.”
“To save him,” I say.
“Well, that diminishes it then,” he says, teasing.
I groan, wondering how I got here with Jax of all people trying to comfort me. It’s so backwards. I mean, I guess he’s trying to comfort me. If he doesn’t mean to, he’s doing it, anyway.
I wipe at my face again and stand. I take a few deep breaths. I know I have to go out there and face reality again even though it would be so lovely just to hide back here. Even if Jax was my company. I throw the used tissue in the trashcan and look at him. “How do I look?”