Fierce

by L. G. Kelso

  I walked away because I was being a coward. I was letting someone make my decisions for me.

  We live by the scars we choose.

  It was time I made the decision, instead of the past making it for me.

  I grabbed a napkin and a pen from the bar.

  Love you, you did great, had to run.

  "Can you give this to her, please, when she's done?"

  The bartender nodded. I said thanks and pushed through Leah's singing groupies and into the setting sky.

  I ran home, since I had driven with Leah. By the time I reached my apartment, the phantom pain had begun to pulse within my scar, sending out sharp arrows of singeing heat through my head. My bag with my gloves and wraps slumped in the corner near my door. I had been too upset to do anything other than drop it. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the strap and opened my door.

  A balled hand blocked my way.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I took a step backward and to the left.

  "Oh," Max said. "Sorry, I was about to knock."

  I guess I was still a little more on edge than I had thought.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  "Yes. You just, well, you know. Hand in face means get out of the way."

  "Good point. Tori, is everything all right? I don't want to keep bothering you, but you ran out the other day and I'm worried."

  The worry was evident all of his face. I added another emotion—guilt—to my already overly emotional, clusterfuck of a brain.

  "I've just been busy." I didn't mean to sound that bitchy.

  He leaned against the door, his hands stuffed loosely in his pockets. "That's fine. You have a life. I meant..."

  "What?" I took up a position similar to his, and leaned against the doorframe opposite of him.

  "The way you left the gym. Are you okay?"

  "Everything is fine. I'm fine." The words vomited from my mouth, and I instantly regretted it. Max's eyes locked onto mine. The dark brown went on for eternity, and the fine lines creased in the skin between his eyebrows made me regret the lie. His concern was earnest, and here I was bullshitting him. "Okay, fine, it wasn't fine. But it's okay. I was just on my way to the gym, actually. I need a game plan for the fight. Are you going to the gym?" I asked.

  He nodded. We walked in silence to the gym. As much as I wanted to ask him about the other day, I still felt too sick when I thought about Will invading my life again.

  "Look what the cat dragged in," Will chimed when I entered the gym.

  "Eat shit and die," I snapped.

  Max stepped inside, no doubt only hearing what I said, and placed his hand on my back. Will had probably planned it to go down that way. The conniving jerk always had impeccable timing. Max didn't say anything. His eyes studied Will for a long minute, and a deep frown pulled his lips down. Will stood at the fountain, water running into his water bottle, staring at Max.

  "Oh, Tori, that hurts me. I thought you would have grown past the hating men thing. Be careful, man," Will said as he snapped the lid on his bottle and walked by us. His eyes lingered on Max's hand against my back. "She's a real ball-buster." His smile made my toes curl.

  Once he disappeared into the mouth of the gym, Max leaned into my ear. Warm, spicy breath again.

  God, he was making that a thing lately, wasn't he?

  "You hate men?"

  "Only that one."

  "I thought you didn't know him well?"

  "I don't. You've been training with him for a few days. What do you think about him?" I asked.

  "I don't know. I don't really know him. I used to admire his skill. But he's—"

  "Asshole? Douchy?"

  "Personality makes it hard to admire those traits anymore, and I think you think everyone is a douche bag."

  I couldn't see it, since he stood behind me, but I could feel the smile.

  "Not everyone."

  "What, only like 80 percent of the population?"

  "Meh. More like 85 percent." I smiled back, but it didn't last long.

  I had managed to get here, but now what?

  "Max? That you? Come on. Warm up." Nick's voice came from the dojo.

  The door to the outside looked beautiful at this moment. I could return to the present and not have to think about this again. Orange light from the setting sun filtered between the iron bars, leaving bright stripes across the carpeted entryway, beaconing me toward some promise of peace and safety and my plan for my future.

  The gaping mouth of the gym opened opposite the door, the tall ceiling all but breaking in on me, the metal fans sharp as teeth ready to chew me and spit me out. And in its center, bouncing in the ring, stood the monster.

  This time, the monster could not intend to let me get out alive.

  Then again, if I walked out that front door, part of me would die, and I wouldn't even be putting up a fight.

  I was tired of my monsters.

  All right, Tori, this is how it's going to go. You're going to walk in there and do this and stop being such an idiot.

  I took a deep breath of air scented with leather, sweat, and determination, and said a prayer to the boxing gods as I walked into the lair.

  This is your gym.

  "Tori. Thank God you're here. I thought you'd been kidnapped or something, but Max kept telling me he knew you were all right." Shane grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug.

  "Oh, he did, did he?" I looked at Max as my cheek squished against Shane's chest.

  Max shrugged as he slipped into the ring, pulling his MMA gloves on. "Leah's very forthcoming about you not being kidnapped."

  "Of course she is."

  Shane let go. "You want to do some mitt work? Max and Will are doing some sparring, and I need to keep on with the focus mitts for a while."

  "Don't forget about us. We got here early so we can help," Mick said. I hadn't even noticed him or Miguel crouching down behind Shane.

  "And you guys are great. But, I need more," Shane said.

  "I'm offended," Mick groaned.

  "Don't be. I just need more people. You two are already slowing down. There's nothing wrong with that, but I have a fight in less than a week. I need to be pushed."

  "I'll do a few rounds while you two rest up. Which, by the way, is a great time to work on active resting." I eyed the sitting. "And then you guys can do another round or so. This man has a fight this weekend. We have to help him."

  Oh, God.

  I had bailed on Shane. I had bailed on Max. I had bailed on someone who expected my partnership in training. I had some serious making up to do.

  I grabbed the timer off the ground, tossed it to Mick, and picked up a set of mitts.

  "Let's go."

  I held up the mitts in various positions. Shane threw and kicked to match the mitt position. Shane's hits were quick and strong. My core and stance wasn't tight enough for his first Thai kick, and I faltered.

  I could feel someone's smirk. I wonder who that could be.

  I regained my balance and tightened my position. For the next kick, I didn't budge. We went for five minutes, hit after hit after hit, and with me yelling out things like "sprawl" and "shoot," until Mick called time. Shane drank a few sips of water as I watched the sparring in the ring.

  Will was a good fighter, in all honesty, but he fought based off his attributes—his brute force. He didn't use his head. He liked the big punches that led to knockouts, even if they damaged his shoulder. And, really, he always looked angry when fighting. Then again, that could just be my bias. His control seemed to waiver, just on the verge of slipping the leash. Max stayed as controlled as ever.

  Eventually, after a few more rounds with Shane, students for the MMA class began to show up.

  "How about one sparring round? Just a two minute round," Shane asked. His hazel eyes latched onto mine. I couldn't read the emotions behind them, but it wasn't typical Shane.

  "Sure." I yanked off the mitts and grabbed my gloves from my bag after popping my mouthguard
in.

  "All right. Will, I want you to help teach this class," Nick said. "I want you to keep moving while I work with Max and Shane. You two, let's work some jiu-jitsu on the mats. Get some water and be back here in five minutes."

  Max and Will slid out of the ring, but I focused on Shane as I donned my gloves and moved into position.

  "Did you want to take a break and get water, since Nick wants you in five?" I asked Shane. In my periphery, Max grabbed his water bottle and watched us, while Will lingered near the mats.

  Shane shook his head no, and raised his arms. We touched gloves. He threw a jab. My elbows should have stopped it, but under the weight of Will's eyes, I stopped thinking. I let them be weak, and his punch burst through it into my face, causing my eye to smash close and water. He threw a cross. I blocked. He threw a hook. I didn't block.

  Trapped.

  "Get out of your head," Max said.

  Another crappy hit.

  "Stop thinking so much about what's going on outside of this. Focus on Shane. Focus on yourself. Pushing yourself."

  How did Max know what I was thinking?

  So help me God, Will chuckled.

  Shutting this off wasn't going to work. Shane wasn't going to push me enough to make me stop thinking completely. I was on my own for that. And I knew, with Will a few feet away, I couldn't ignore the tornado inside of me.

  But I could focus it. Use it. I was holding me up right now, not him. I could beat myself and push myself.

  Shane threw a jab, followed by another jab. I felt the knee coming. I slipped under his second jab, to the outside. His knee met air, but as soon as his foot landed, he faced me again, the distance closed. I blocked a hook and uppercut, slipped another hook to my left as I planted a right hook rib level, and straightened up with an uppercut that made contact.

  The timer went off, and Shane and I smiled at each other.

  "That was good," he said, catching my eyes once again. This time, I figured out what I couldn't read before. He hadn't needed that round; he just knew that I did.

  "Thanks," I said.

  He nodded.

  Will leaned against the wall, staring.

  My smile became larger. Finally, even if it was only for a few minutes, I had gotten my head under control.

  Will didn't look too happy about it either. "I thought you had stopped boxing," he said.

  "Why is that?" I locked my eyes onto his and set my jaw.

  "After your last fight. And again, when you no-showed for the past few days, leaving your partners, as I understand, without you."

  "I'm sorry about that, guys," I directed to Shane and Max. "It was a Will move of me. Oh, wait. Sorry. Freudian slip. I meant it was a dick move of me."

  "It's all good," Shane said.

  "Yeah, no problem." Max didn't sound like he agreed. There was no attempt to hide the glare on Will's face, and there was no question Max made full note of it.

  "I guess I have a class to teach," Will said. He pushed himself off the wall with the sole of his foot and brushed past us.

  "What is his deal?" Max asked. He looked at me, and put a flyaway hair behind my ear.

  "Deal? I don't know." My gaze shot downward and studied my foot.

  "Yeah. You keep saying that. But I'm starting to think you're leaving something out." Max sighed, and his hand hesitated above my ear, his finger grazing the tip of cartilage.

  "Boys. Mat time," Nick said. He stood at the edge of the mats, his lips pursed.

  "What about Tori?"

  "Tori?" Nick asked. "Oh, right, you're back. Teach the class with Will, move so you get warmed up."

  Hell sounded like a better option.

  "We usually all participate in the class," I said.

  "Maybe tomorrow, but I want to work uninterrupted with these two for a little bit," Nick replied.

  The MMA class had begun and took place in the section to the north of the mats being used for rolling. Mick, Miguel, and four other students participated. The classes' attention was on Will as he discussed something more than likely about himself. I made it a point not to listen as I skirted the mats.

  "Tori, wait a second," Will called. "I need someone to help me demonstrate."

  I kept walking. Like hell I'd help him.

  Two large and rough hands grabbed my arms, my legs stumbled, and my back pressed against the wall. I screamed before I made sense of what was going on. He wouldn't try something in front of everyone, would he? His hands tightened, hurting my arms right below my biceps.

  "Thanks for the help," he said.

  My scream had gotten everyone's attention. In my periphery, Max and even Shane looked my way. The students did the same, eyes wide.

  The last place for a girl to scream was in a freaking fight gym.

  "Now, this is why you want to stay away from the cage. Or wall. You don't want to back yourself into a corner. You need to move out and away," Will called over his shoulder. His grip never loosened as he spoke. "This is a very bad place to be."

  He made eye contact with me then, with narrowed blue eyes and sneered lips. He squeezed. His chest puffed up, his shoulders straighter than they should have been for fighting. I bit my lip. My feet were in a fight stance, but my legs wanted to go out from beneath me.

  He looked over his shoulder again. Finally, he released his hold but only to throw a jab. My hands went up and my body convulsed without my permission, but his fist stopped a few inches from my face.

  I lowered my arms slightly. He smiled. His finger ran down my shaking forearm, which prompted a larger smile from him.

  He was screwing with me.

  "Pay attention class. This is really important."

  "It is," I said, practically yelling.

  His eyes widened and his lips held the question. His eyebrows drew together, and he gave me a small, tight smile. He had no idea what was coming.

  "Pay attention class," I continued. "This is what you do when some asshole has you cornered."

  I grabbed both of his shoulders and yanked him toward me. Using the momentum from that movement, I let go of his shoulder with my right arm, angled it down, palm facing him but fisted. In one clean motion, I arched my elbow up, out, and down, catching the area above his eye with the hard part of my elbow.

  Will hissed, blood splattered against my face, and he fell away from me, onto the ground. He cupped his eye, blood oozing from below his hand and down his cheek.

  I took a step toward him and bent down.

  "It's sure a bitch to see when there's blood in your eyes, isn't it?"

  "What the hell was that?" Nick shrieked.

  I stood back up, thought about kicking him in the gut, but forced myself to walk away after making sure he saw my smile with his good eye. I wiped at the wet spot on my forehead. Blood smeared across my hand.

  "Somebody pissed Tori off," Shane said. "Nice elbow."

  Max didn't share his enthusiasm. He frowned.

  Nick hurried to Will, yanked him up, and said, "Get to the bathroom and clean yourself up. And you—" He turned to me. "—that was supposed to be a demonstration."

  Max took a step by me, toward Nick. I put a hand out and grabbed his arm. His bicep rippled under my touch, his muscles tight and knotted. Between that, the balled fist, and the tight back, Max looked ready to explode. "I got this," I said.

  I marched over to Nick. My hands found my hips as I said, "Look, Nick, you and Will are guests here. You keep your boy away from me. Make sure he doesn't touch me again. Because if he does, I'll do a lot worse than cut his eyebrow. I'll make it so he won't fight. Now, if you excuse me, I need to wash my face."

  I turned on my heel, ignored the looks from everyone, and walked into the locker room hall.

  Would he follow me here?

  Maybe.

  But right now, I didn't care. Rage boiled my blood and left acid in my mouth. Just try me, you assface.

  I scrubbed at my face with the hand soap until the water flushed clear.

  "Tori
. That was a bad idea," Will's voice erupted from behind the door as I dried my skin. I stiffened, unable to move.

  The door flew open, crashing into the lockers behind it. Metal rattled; wood hit tile. But Will wasn't there. As the door swung back into place, crimson flecks in the knuckle imprint in the splintered wood caught my eye.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  "Put your damn head gear on," I said to Shane as I shoved the headpiece into his hands.

  "Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, but he put the gear on. He walked over the center of the mats, where Will waited.

  "Really, gear? For this? I bet the girl told you to do it." Will smirked.

  "Maybe you should put yours on, Will," Max said.

  Everything was fair game in shootbox. We didn't always wear headgear, but no one had argued with my new rule of wearing it while sparring with Will.

  "I don't need that crap."

  "That must be what's wrong with you. Got hit in the head a few too many times?" I said.

  Will met my eyes and I smiled. I knew I egged him on, and I didn't care. Let him make a move in front of everyone.

  "Just watch my bad shoulder, man," Shane said as he joined Will.

  "Keep it light boys. With Shane's fight around the corner, I don't want any injuries," Nick said.

  Max and I went back to the bag circuit we were doing. I turned so that I could watch Shane and Will as I punched. Max's breath hissed through his teeth; his bag clanked.

  The timer buzzed, indicating the start of the round. Will made the first move, of course, but Shane recovered well. Shane was lighter, a bit smaller, and moved quicker. A few minutes into it, I could see the lines in Will's face change. Tight. Clenched mouth around his mouthguard.

  Will dropped his hands, a show of stupidity in my book but an effort to get Shane riled up.

  Don't fall for it, Shane.

  Shane landed a shot.

  Will plowed into him. They went down, and rolled, interchanging positions, until Will got Shane in an arm-bar. His hips went up, he tightened the hold and increased the pressure. He moved fast, too fast for training, and Shane let out a sharp moan of pain.