“Jesus,” he panted. He pulled out and rearranged himself before leaning over me and kissing my cheek. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
“I’ll be up in a bit. I’ll grab a shower first.” My throat choked around my words, but I pushed them out.
I waited until he was out of sight before I followed him upstairs and shut the bathroom door, hiding away. I set the water running and turned the heat all the way up until steam billowed around the tiny room. The mirror over the sink showed my ashen face looking back, with a red patch to one side where my face had rested against the table.
My hips were tender, and there was a red mark running across the top of my thighs where the table had bitten into my skin. And I felt sore. Not like our first time, but raw.
Used.
As the heat encompassed me, I went over the events and tried to identify what had gone wrong, but there was nothing. It was the perfect date for my birthday until it wasn’t. Maddison had just taken things too far, and before I realised I’d wanted it to stop, it was too late.
The heat revived me and washed away the nasty afterthoughts of the night. I crept into our room and pulled the covers back. Maddison was already asleep, but I still rolled towards him, finding my place over his heart where I felt the safest. His arms encompassed me, and I let this feeling of comfort surround me, and I vowed never to let anything like this happen between us again.
The weeks that followed my birthday returned us to our normal. Maddison wasn’t as aggressive when we made love, and my shadow of worry every time we were intimate began to fade. Except that Maddison was in a permanent bad mood. He was out of the house, training or working, but even when he was home, he was cranky and rude.
When you live with someone and know them as well as I knew Maddison, you know when there’s something on their mind or troubling them, and something was off.
He dumped his plate in the sink so hard that I was surprised it didn’t crack into pieces. Two weeks of feeling like I’d been caught in his crosshairs, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I switched the hob off and turned to face him.
“Will you just tell me what the problem is?” I moaned, desperate to an end of all the slamming of doors, grunts, and frowns.
“Trust me, you won’t want to know.” He scowled and paced out of the kitchen.
His response at least narrowed it down for me, but I wasn’t ready to give this up, so I followed him into the lounge. “Did you lose a fight?” I asked tentatively, although I couldn’t remember him coming home with any scrapes or bruising.
“No, of course not.”
“Then what is it because I’m sick of you being in such a bad mood around the house?” I was a little fiercer than I thought I could be, but everything that had happened over the last few weeks had taken its toll on me.
“I have a fight. And I want you to be there. Happy now?”
“Not particularly.” I dropped my head, realising that we’re never going to be through with this. “I assumed you didn’t need me there anymore. I haven’t seen you fight for months.”
“If I had my way, you’d be there at every fight. But you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear.”
“So, you’ve still been fighting?” I narrowed my stare at him, feeling like he’d gone behind my back. Although, I’d never told him to stop, not really.
“Yeah. Why do you think I train so hard? I’m not going to jack this all in when I’m actually good at it. You didn’t even know I was still doing it, I’m that good. Nobody can touch me.” He stepped forward, and all that was missing was the figurative banging of his fists on his chest.
“If you’ve been winning all this time, why now?” I crossed my arms defiantly.
“Because this is a main event fight. I need this. It’s what I’ve been working for. For us.”
My mind raced back to the guy he was meant to fight—Jay—the sleaze at the party. “Is it against the guy at the party? Is that why you need me there?” I remembered their weird standoff and confrontation, and what Jay had said before we left. There was a subtext that although Mads denied, I couldn’t shake.
He stood over me, looking into my eyes like he was searching for something he’d lost. “You think I’d put you on the line in a fight against someone? That I’d risk that? That I’d risk you?”
His words squeezed my heart as I realised my mistake and what my stupid assumption had done. “No, well, no…”
“How could you even think that?” He seethed as he clenched his jaw.
“It’s these fights. They bring out the worst in both of us. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. But you want to progress, and you told me this guy was blocking your way.”
“And so, you thought the worst of me?”
“I’m sorry.” Guilt rose from my gut, swallowing me up as I saw it from his side. Tears stung my eyes as I recognised I’d made all of this so much worse.
“I wanted you there on Saturday because it’s a big fight. A lot of money on the line, enough that I can give you more than this tin can and forget about labouring anymore. And why I was in a bad mood is because I know you don’t like to watch. So, I was forcing myself not to ask you because that’s what you want. And making you happy is all I’ve ever wanted. Seems I can’t do anything fucking right.” He raised his arms before storming towards the front door.
“Please, Maddison?” I called after him, but it was too late. He was gone.
The house was so quiet without Maddison. Bob tried his best to keep me company, but it wasn’t the same. I missed Maddison and hated myself for jumping to the wrong conclusion. I wondered how I could fix this or show him that I did believe in him. He was the one getting beaten up, and his words about moving on and doing this for me just made the guilt harder, and my decision clearer.
It was two days before the fight, and Maddison had somehow managed to avoid me for that entire time. I knew he’d been home. He was just good at knowing when I’d be at work. I’d taken on more shifts at the pub since leaving Uni, but any motivation to look for something to start my career had taken a nosedive.
Looking for a job in a creative industry like publishing meant I needed to feel creative, and right now, that was the furthest thing from my mind.
I’m sorry. Talk to me? I love you x
Come home. We don’t have to talk, just tell me you’re ok. x
Please, don’t do this to us x
Maddison ignored all of my messages and left me with only one last option—turn up and watch him fight—show him how sorry I was. But I needed help. I’d only turned up to one fight without Leo, and I only got in because I argued with the guy behind the door. Dropping Maddison’s name worked on that occasion, but I couldn’t put the future of our relationship on the line with nothing but luck on my side. I had Leo’s number, and I’d make him help.
My stomach was in knots. I hated coming here—but I loved Maddison more. I knocked on the door and hoped Leo had told them to expect me. Sure enough, as soon as I told the man peering out of the small hatch my name, the doors opened before me.