His eyebrows shot up. “You’re coming willingly?”
“You did say you weren’t carrying me around anymore.”
He smirked, as he walked to the door. “You’ve got twenty minutes.” He swung the door open, and turned back to look at me. “You really think Charlotte will come around?”
I nodded. “I know she will.”
I closed the door behind him, and made a beeline for the shower. I scrubbed my face and body, without enough time to bother with my hair. I quickly changed into grey sweat pants and a matching hoodie. To say my eyes were puffy and red was an understatement, but with Tanner waiting outside, I had no time to fuss with my appearance.
In the passenger seat, I tapped out texts to Shelly and Tina, letting them know that I was alive. Tanner drove in silence, and I was grateful. Within five minutes, we had arrived, and he zipped into a spot.
When we stepped inside the gym, I was hit with the musty smell of sweat. There were dozens of punching bags hanging around the spacious room. To the left, large men grunted as they flipped over giant sized tires; to the right, muscular women took turns slapping thick ropes against the ground. My eyes finally settled on the caged-in ring that sat in the center of the gym.
Inside the ring were two men. The shorter of the two wore padded headgear, and a mouthpiece that made his lips protrude; he was wearing a t-shirt with the gym logo on the front. He was sweating profusely, and breathing heavy. Just by looking, I could tell that he was the one being trained.
The taller man, towering over his opponent, wore no headgear. His dark hair was buzzed on the sides, matching the stubble on his face, and longer on the top. He sported a scar over his left eyebrow. Tattoos covered every inch of his bare upper body, including one that twisted up onto the side of his neck. He looked every part the fighter, mean and tough, with the menacing muscles to match. As we got closer, I noticed how puffy and disfigured his ears were from being punched one too many times – they were the only imperfect things on him. He moved so fluidly around his opponent, it was almost graceful. I could not take my eyes off of him.
“That,” Tanner said, pointing, “is T.J.”
“That’s your coach?” I asked, slightly intimidated yet slightly intrigued.
“Yup. I’ll introduce you when he’s done.”
We waited at the bottom of the ring for him to finish. T.J. acknowledged Tanner with a nod as he swayed from side to side. He glared down at me with his piercing blue eyes, then smiled wide to reveal the words “FUCK YOU” scrolled across his mouth guard. I grinned, and he turned his attention back to his opponent, who was taking this time to catch his breath. The two circled each other for another minute, until the man in the shirt swung his fist.
T.J. stepped back, dodging the swing with ease. Then, he lunged forward, and tackled the man onto his back. They crashed into the floor of the ring with a loud thud. Every muscle in T.J.’s shredded body stretched and tensed as he unleashed a series of punches into the man’s abdomen. In the time it took me to blink, T.J. took hold of the man’s arm, spun around, and locked his arm in between his legs. The man furiously tapped T.J.’s leg, begging him to release his arm before it snapped in half.
My mouth was left half-open. I closed it when I noticed Tanner smiling at me.
“I knew you’d love this place,” he said, leaning in.
After helping the winded man up, T.J. shook his hand. He hopped out of the ring, and pulled his mouth piece out as he came down the stairs. My eyes were fixated on his tattoos, each one flowing into the other, as if they were telling a story.
“T.J. Cutler, this is Merritt Adams. Merritt, this is T.J., my coach.”
T.J. stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I like your name.”
“Thanks. I like that Ninja Turtle spinny thing you did to that guy’s arm.”
He grinned, surprisingly revealing a full set of teeth. “That was called an arm bar, though I like Ninja Turtle spinny thing better.”
I smiled, and breathed a sigh of relief that he had a sense of humor.
Tanner placed his hand on my shoulder. “Take care of her, Teej. She’s stubborn, but she’s got fight in her.”
T.J. raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “More stubborn than you?”
Tanner grinned as he backed away. “She might take the cake.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I mean, I’m standing right here.”
T.J. gestured to the stairs leading into the ring. “Alright, Merritt Adams. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
My eyes widened. “We’re starting in there? Don’t you think that’s something we need to work up to?”
“You can leave your socks and shoes down here,” he replied, as if he did not hear my question. “Take off your hoodie, and put your hair up.”
I quickly complied, slipping out of my sneakers, and stuffing my socks inside. I threw my sweatshirt over them, piled my curls at the top of my head, and made my way into the ring. I was not crazy about being on display in the middle of the entire gym. I fussed with my tank top, nervously awaiting whatever was about to happen.
T.J. had gone to the far corner of the gym, collecting gloves and pads. My stomach churned while I watched him trot back over to me. He jumped up and over into the ring, dropping the pads at my feet. “Hold out your hands.”
I held my hands out in front of me. He slipped my fingers into the gloves, and wrapped the Velcro straps around my wrists.
“Make a fist. How do they feel?”
“Tight,” I replied. “But it’s fine.”
His eyes narrowed. “Well, are they tight or are they fine?”
“It’s fine that they’re tight,” I countered.
One corner of his mouth slowly turned up. He began bouncing from side to side in front of me. He held up a black rectangular pad in front of his chest. “Okay. Hit me.”
Unsure of how exactly he wanted me to hit him, I threw a punch at the pad.
“Okay. Now, hit me like you mean it.”
I exhaled, and tried again.
“Come on. You punch like a girl.”
I tightened my fists in front of me, and threw another punch – harder this time.
“There ya go. That’s how I want you to keep punching. Alternate between your left and your right. When you punch, I want you to twist from the waist,” he demonstrated, “and put your back into it.” He pointed at me. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”
I nodded, and began mimicking what he had done, slowly at first. I picked up speed once I became more comfortable with the twisting motion. Immediately, I understood why he had told me to use my back; my punches landed with much more force than before.
“Yes, good!” T.J. exclaimed. “Harder! Let’s go!”
I started to break a sweat, and I could feel my breaths becoming shorter with each punch. My arms were burning from shoulders to wrists. I wanted to take a break, to drop my arms, but I would not dare say so. I continued slamming my fists into the pad as fast as I could.
I was so focused on landing my punches, I did not hear T.J. shout, “Time!” He lowered the pad as I was in the middle of hurling my next punch. My knuckles plowed into his cheekbone.
My hands flew up to my mouth in horror. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”
He chuckled and wiggled his jaw. “It’s been a while since someone’s clipped me.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I punch like a girl.”
“Take a look at where we are standing.”
I looked down, realizing that we were no longer standing in the middle of the ring. We were about two feet from where we started.
“Is that bad?” I asked.
“You pushed your opponent backwards. That’s what you want to do. It means you punched with force. It means you’re in charge – you’re on the offense, and your opponent is merely defending himself.”
I shrugged one shoulder, trying to act nonchalant. “I meant to do that.”
“Now, imagine how much better you could have done if you weren’t so hungover.”
I felt my cheeks flush instantly. “I’m not hungover.”
“Bloodshot, baggy eyes,” he pointed at my face. “You look tired and weak. Plus, you’re sweating a lot.”
“Maybe I just sweat a lot.”
“Or maybe you drank until you puked.”
We stared into each other’s eyes, neither one of us wanting to break first.
He grinned. “Tanner is right. I see it in your eyes.”
“See what?”
“The fight. You’ve got passion inside of you. That’s only the first step.”
“Okay. So, what’s the second step?”
“You tell me.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one teaching me?”
“Think about it. What else do you need besides passion to do what I do?”
I chewed my lip as I thought. “I need to know how to fight.”
“Right. Over the next few months, I’ll be training you how to channel your anger – to hone your emotions. You’ll need to do two things, though.”
“Let me guess – you want me to tell you what those two things are?”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest, wearing an amused expression. “You catch on quick.”
“Okay, let me see,” I said, thinking aloud. “I need to be dedicated to your training.”
“That’s one.”
“I need to…” I looked around at everyone in the gym. “Build muscle?”
“Nope. You don’t need huge muscles to be a good fighter. This one is going to be a bit of a challenge for you: you need to trust me.”
I laughed once. “What makes you think that would be hard for me?”
“Call it a hunch.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What exactly did Tanner tell you about me?”
“He said you went through a lot of shit, and you needed help. I plan on getting the rest of your story from you.” He picked up the pad. “You’re going to tell me everything I need to know.”
I wondered what it was that he would need to know.
“Oh, and one other thing. Don’t ever show up here hungover again.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“If you feel like shit, you fight like shit. Plus, you look like shit.”
“What does it matter what I look like?” I asked defensively. “Maybe you don’t look so great yourself.”
“Of course I do.” He grinned as he smacked the pad several times. “Let’s go.”
I rolled my eyes at his arrogance, but raised my fists in front of my face. All of my focus was concentrated on hitting my target, and my mind could not wander anywhere else. The more T.J. yelled, the harder I hit. I enjoyed feeling the impact of my fists on the pad, as it rippled up my arms and jolted my body.
After a while, T.J. ditched the pad, and put his hands up to block my punches instead. We circled around each other, watching and waiting for the other to make the first move. A devious smile crept onto his face while his eyebrows lowered. I watched his body movements, trying to anticipate his plan of attack. I flinched with every step and jerk he made.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his eyes locked on mine.
“Not for one second,” I replied from behind my fists.
“I’m going to take you down,” he informed. “I just need you to go with it.”
“Should I be wearing headgear?”
“No, because you trust that I won’t hurt you.”
“How do I know you won’t?”
“You don’t know. That’s what trust is – you give someone the chance to hurt you, and hope that they don’t.”
I inhaled deeply, and signaled that I was ready.
I did not even see him move. One second, I was upright on my feet, and the next second, my back smacked against the floor of the ring. T.J.’s body was pressed against mine, one hand hooked around my leg, and the other supporting the back of my head. He stared into my eyes, barely out of breath, and awaiting my reaction.
“Well, I can feel my legs,” I said, wiggling my toes. “That’s a good sign.”
He laughed, and pulled me up to my feet as he stood. “That wasn’t so bad, being vulnerable, was it?”
I tilted my head from side to side. “I’d much rather be the attacker than the one being attacked.”
“That is a very informative and revealing statement.” He patted his left leg. “You’re going to come at me, and lift this leg up. If you ram your shoulder into me at the same time, you’ll be able to tackle me to the ground. You ready?”
Now, I was the one wearing the devilish grin. “Ready.” I did as he said, and slammed my left shoulder into his stomach. My right arm hooked around the back of his leg, lifting his foot up off the ground. We crashed onto the floor, though not as gracefully as when he had tackled me.
I laughed as I sat up, rubbing my shoulder. That was the most physical activity I had done since the shoulder surgery, and the dull ache was a reminder. “That was awesome.”
T.J. reached out and ran his thumb over my surgery scars. Though his hands were used for causing pain, they were soft and gentle on my skin. “What happened here?”
“Shoulder surgery. Last year.”
“From the accident?”
I jerked back from his touch. “You know about my accident?”
“It was all over the news. It’s not exactly a secret.”
I quickly stood, adjusting the waistband of my pants around my hips. “Can I hit the pad again?”
He grabbed the pad without question, and jumped to his feet. “Go.”
We spent the remainder of the hour in silence, with the exception of T.J.’s commands.
Our time came to an end when Tanner stood outside of the ring, leaning against the cage.
“How’d she do?” he asked.
“I have to say, I’m impressed. Once she learns to trust me, she’ll do even better.” T.J. winked at me. “See you tomorrow, Adams.”
“Tomorrow?” I looked to Tanner.
“In the beginning, you’ll be training here every day,” Tanner answered. “You can leave straight from work. That’s usually when I come.”
“How much does this daily training cost?”
“Thirty a month, but you don’t pay until you finish your sessions.”
At least it would give me something to do in the evening, other than stare at my phone and wait for Chase to call.
“There’s one more rule,” T.J. called as I made my way down the stairs. “No alcohol for eight weeks. You need your mind and body sharp for practice.”
Clearly, Tanner had told him more than I thought. I felt embarrassed. Someone as strong as T.J. probably looked down on weak people like me. That was not the version of myself that I wanted him to see – or anyone else, for that matter.
“What did you think?” Tanner asked when we were back in his car on our way home.
“I loved it. It feels good to hit things.”
“Yes, it does. That’s something Chase will never be able to understand.”
“He doesn’t have that anger inside, like…”
“Like I do,” Tanner finished.
“Like we do,” I corrected. I shook my head as I stared out the window. “My friend, Tina, once told me that I didn’t belong with Chase. She said I was too dark for him. I can’t help feeling like he’s too good for me – like maybe he deserves to be with someone… better.”
“I think people like us will always feel that way. We know we’re a mess, and we know we’re going to make mistakes. Growing up, I always looked up to Chase. I wondered how he could be so good all the time. But I’ve learned: he needs people like us, just as much as we need people like him. We can’t drive the darkness out with more darkness, and they can’t live in the sunshine all the time. It’s not real. Life is a mixture of ups and downs. That’s why they say opposites attract. You need that counterpart – someone
who can balance it out with you.”
I watched him as he spoke, his turbulent eyes focused on the road ahead. “You should say that to Charlotte.”
He looked surprised. “You think it would make a difference?”
“I think it would make all the difference.”
Chapter Eleven: Day Two
“How was your day? Are you famous yet?”
Chase chuckled, and I felt a pang in my heart. Seeing him on FaceTime was better than only hearing his voice; still, it was not as good as seeing him in person. Though he had interrupted my last few hours of sleep, I did not mind; our time was precious, and worth it, despite the early morning wakeup call.
“Not famous yet. Just exhausted. We’ve been practicing by day, and performing at night.”
“You’re a musical superhero.” I stifled a yawn.
“You should go back to sleep. You don’t have to be up for another couple of hours.”
“I’d rather stare at you.”
“I wish I was lying next to you.”
“Me, too.”
“So, what do you think of this T.J. guy? Tanner raves about him like he’s the second coming.”
“I’m really glad we got him that gym membership. He loves it.” I yawned again. “T.J. was nice, I guess. He seems really good at what he does. I like that it gives me something to do after work.”
“I just want you to be happy, and feel good.”
“Punching things definitely made me happy. Who knew?”
He grinned sleepily. “My warrior.”
“I wish I knew when I was going to see you again.”
“I’m sorry, Merritt. I feel like this whole thing is my fault. If I didn’t make you come to California, none of this would have happened.”
I sat up on my elbow. “You did not make me do anything. This not your fault. This did not happen because you made me go to California. This happened because…” I tried to find the words to explain what had happened to me while I was out there. “I have issues. I don’t know.”
He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I just miss you.”
“Ditto, babe.” I watched his eyelids begin to close, and I knew he would be asleep momentarily. “I love you,” I said softly.
“I love you,” he whispered back.
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