by Julia Goda
He thought I was afraid of someone physically hurting me. I kind of knew he would come to the wrong conclusion when he found out I wouldn’t ever date a fighter. It was sweet, but I couldn’t let him think I was some defenseless damsel in distress he had to keep safe.
“Don’t worry, Logan. I can take care of myself.”
He stared into my eyes for long moments. “You telling me you know how to defend yourself?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Even though it had been a long time, I had trained with my father for years. Eight years of training with a professional boxer is not something you forget. I had started young, but I’d been good. Really good. I had no doubt my body would remember the movements if I needed it to. But I wasn’t about to get into any of that.
Logan narrowed his eyes just a smidge before understanding flooded his face. “You took a self-defense class, didn’t you?”
I shook my head no and sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let this go until I gave him something. “I had some training years ago.” I left it at that. He gave me that stare again, scrutinizing.
“You’re not gonna tell me what kind of training, are you?” I shook my head no again.
“All you need to know is I’m not scared to go inside because I think someone is gonna hurt me.”
“You gonna tell me why you had to give yourself a pep talk then?”
What? How did he know that’s what I had been doing?
I didn’t answer, just held his stare. Now it was his turn to sigh. “All right, firecracker. Let’s go.” He pressed his lips gently to my forehead before he let me go and got out of the truck. I watched as he stopped in front of the hood and looked back at me, waiting. I flicked my eyes to the entrance, then took a deep, fortifying breath and got out on my side. Logan took my hand before he opened the door and pulled me inside. I told myself to retract my hand, but I had to admit it felt comforting. So I let him get away with it. I had other things to worry about as the familiar smell of leather and sweat hit me.
I fought the memories as I looked around the space. The men I had seen through the window, jumping rope, had moved on to push-ups and crunches as they warmed up. One of them noticed me and winked at me. I raised my eyebrows then dismissed him as I let my eyes wander. There were speedbags and heavy bags hanging from the ceiling at the back part of the gym, while three practice rings took up the whole other side of the big room. It was busy this early in the morning. But I wasn’t surprised; boxers in training were early risers. I knew that all too well. What did surprise me was seeing a familiar face among the muscled bodies. Jesse was hitting one of the speedbags.
“What’s Jesse doing here this early?” I asked more to myself, but Logan heard me.
“He’s here almost every morning to get a couple of hours in before school.” I raised my eyebrows in shock and disbelief. I had no idea he trained at that level. Logan smirked, amused. Then his smile died a little and turned serious. “And he wanted to be here today when I showed you around. He’s taking this project very seriously. He wants this to happen and he wants it to be successful.” I studied him. He wanted that too, for this project to be successful, wanted girls to be able to defend themselves, to feel safe and confident. Knowing he was compassionate about something like that made my heart melt toward him just a little. I had misjudged him. I squeezed his hand in mine slightly and smiled at him in understanding and apology. When I opened my mouth to follow that up with a verbal apology, Jesse interrupted me.
“Yo, Rainey!” he shouted across the gym then jogged toward us. When he made it to us, he looked down at our intertwined hands, and a slow smirk that quickly turned into a wide grin covered his face. “Fast work,” he mumbled under his breath. I pulled my hand out of Logan’s and crossed my arms over my chest, irritated with myself for letting him get away with it in the first place, for giving him the wrong impression, and irritated with Logan for pushing, for taking advantage. And for good measure, I was irritated with Jesse for commenting on it. So I glared at both of them.
I pretended not to notice when Jesse threw Logan a glance while mouthing ‘sorry’; I also pretended not to notice as Logan clenched his jaw while he gave Jesse a dirty look. Instead, I let my eyes roam as the smell and noises of men training washed over me. I let my guard drop a little to see if I could take it and was shocked to realize it didn’t hurt as badly as I thought it would, being here in a space and amongst people I had sworn to myself I would never accept in my life again. It didn’t tear me apart to watch the men in the ring; the memories that came didn’t slice through my gut and make me want to vomit as I had expected they would. It felt…comforting in some way. This had been a big part of my life when I was a kid and young teenager. Apart from school, it was my life. I had refused to think about it after my father left, but back then I had wanted to be just like him. Deep down I had wanted to become a professional fighter. I was young, but I had inherited the passion for this sport from my father, and when he left, not only had I lost the most important person in my life, that person had taken all this away from me as well—my hopes and dreams for my future.
I had forgotten all about my plans back then, had shoved them so deep into the recesses of my mind that they’d been lost to me until now. I hadn’t been able to deal with it back then. Was I now? Was that what I was doing right now? Dealing with it? I frowned and shook my head. No, that wound cut too deep. I still didn’t want to deal with any of it; and I wasn’t sure if I ever could. What I could do was be grateful for the fact that being here gave me a sense of comfort and belonging instead of making me feel miserable. But I would leave it at that and not think too much about it, even if that probably made me a coward.
“Rainey?” I came out of my thoughts when Logan called my name. I focused on him and realized he must have been talking to me, since his face showed concern and curiosity in almost equal amounts. I shook my head once more to clear it and said, “Can we get this over with? I’ve got things to do.” It came out harsher than I had intended, and my heart sank when Jesse’s face fell. I stepped forward and put a hand on his arm in apology. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just…I’ve got a lot going on. Can you show me where you’re thinking of holding the classes and teach me some of the moves?” He studied me for a few seconds, his head tipped to the side, before he nodded and led me to the far side of the room. There was a door that led to a small room with floor-to-ceiling windows instead of a solid wall separating it from the main gym so you could look inside, for personal lessons or some intense training away from the business of the main gym, I assumed.
We had to pass the practice rings on our way there. I watched, fascinated, as a guy practiced his shadow boxing using the slip rope technique. He was passing back and forth in a roll-under motion underneath a rope that was stretched across the ring from side to side. It was more fun and more intense than simple shadow boxing, since it taught you awareness in the ring. You weren’t just blindly boxing an imaginary opponent, but instead the rope made you aware there is something to pay attention to, made you remember your opponent was close and ready to return fire. I had loved using that technique and had been good at it, quick and light on my feet; so good that sometimes my father would let me in the ring with him and used me as his shadow boxing opponent as he tried to keep on the other side of the rope from me, always moving, always breathing.
“It’s called slip rope training,” Jesse told me when he noticed me watching.
“I know,” I murmured under my breath, then stopped myself from saying more in the hopes nobody had heard and shook my head to clear it of the memory. I glanced beside me at Jesse and could see he was curious, but he didn’t comment or ask the question I could see in his eyes. Probably because he didn’t want me to snap at him again.
Smart kid.
Logan was quiet as well. I exhaled a relieved breath. It would have been hard to explain that one away without going into detail.
Chapter 9
R
ainey
THE ROOM IN THE BACK was perfect for self-defense lessons. There was enough room to comfortably house a group of up to ten people practicing without bumping into each other. Mats were neatly stacked against one wall, and once both Jesse and Logan gave me the run-down of what they had envisioned, we laid out a few so we could get down to it.
We had started out with basic techniques after a quick warm-up for Logan and me, like how to beat a wrist hold—instead of trying to pull your arm away from your attacker you rotate your wrist until your thumb lines up with where your attacker’s thumb meets his fingers and jerk sharply by bending your arm at the elbow—and how to position yourself successfully to thrust the sole of your foot toward the attacker’s knee, incapacitating him long enough to book it. I had practiced those techniques with Jesse. I’d had to be careful to not instinctively get into the fighting stance and punch him— especially when they showed me how to break someone’s nose with an upward palm strike—but let him come close enough to try and grab me. It must be the environment and listening to all the boxing noises around me that brought those instincts back. Not once in the past ten years did I have the urge to use my fists. But I managed and caught on quickly. Knowing Logan was watching my every move and seeing him out of the corner of my eye wasn’t helping though. And when he stepped in a few times to adjust the positioning of my shoulders or my hands or my hips, I had to fight against a shiver. His hands felt warm on my skin, electrifying and soothing at the same time. I should have worn a shirt over my tank. I had to remind myself several times to focus on what he was saying instead of where he was touching me, getting more and more irritated with myself by the minute. I wasn’t usually affected that easily, not that I had men standing this close to me and touching me all the time, but I knew just Logan’s presence, after what he said to me earlier that morning, was what was distracting me. And that irritated me. After about half an hour of explaining to me and showing me which body parts were most effective to hit and how to do it, we moved on to more serious physical contact.
Now we were down on the mats; Logan and I, that is. He had me pinned to the ground on my front with him on top of me on my back, his weight pressing me into the mat. I was trying with all my might to get out of his hold, but I had a hard time focusing with Logan’s heat blistering my skin and his breath at my ear. After the third time of me ending up on my back with him on top of me after he simply flipped me with what seemed like no effort at all while I was struggling, I closed my eyes on a deep and frustrated sigh and rested my head on the mat.
“This is frustrating,” I murmured. I felt Logan’s body shaking slightly on top of mine and opened my eyes, then narrowed them on him. He looked in no hurry to get up and off me. “You wanna get up?” I asked in a tone that made it clear he better get up in the next two seconds if he didn’t want to get injured. I watched through a scowl as his smile turned into a grin.
“Not particularly. I like it here.” He lowered his face and brushed his nose against mine. “I’d like it better if we were both naked though,” he whispered in my ear in a low growl. I stilled, shocked not only by his words—I was quickly realizing he didn’t care where we were or who could see or hear us; he had made that obvious more than once now—but by the heat in my stomach that made its presence known as a tornado of butterflies took my breath away. I ground my teeth and tried to ignore my body’s reaction. But I didn’t fool Logan. He saw it and smirked. Bastard. Then he quickly kissed the tip of my nose before he got up, taking me with him by taking a hold of one of my forearms and pulling me up with him. This manoeuvre surprised me, so I didn’t react when he kept pulling my arm until I was planted against the front of his body and his arm came around me, holding me.
“Let’s call it a day,” he murmured against my temple before he kissed me there then dropped his arm and let me go. I staggered a little when he did, making him chuckle. When I heard another chuckle behind me, I whipped my head around and saw Jesse grinning at the floor, unsuccessfully trying to hide his amusement. Shit, I had completely forgotten he was in the room with us. I did what I do best when I was annoyed or embarrassed or frustrated: I threw attitude.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere? School maybe?”
“Free period,” he answered through a grin. “Don’t have to be there until eleven.”
I shook my head and started to put the mats away, grumbling, “You have an awful lot of free periods. What, they don’t have enough material to teach kids anymore?” I was mostly talking to myself, but I knew they heard my tirade because they were both chuckling again. I chose to ignore them, then caught sight of the clock on the wall. “Shit.”
“What is it?” Logan looked up from stacking the last mat.
“I don’t have time for a run now. I have to be at the shelter for an appointment at ten.”
“You’ve got an hour and a half.”
I shook my head. “I run for an hour and a half every morning.”
Logan’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Every morning?”
“Yeah” I shrugged. Running was another thing I had done with my father that I had given up on when he left us. But it had become evident pretty soon that I couldn’t handle the lack of physical activity. I had gone from running and working out for hours almost every day to nothing at all. Cold turkey. That combined with my emotional state at the time had led to behavior I wasn’t proud of, even a decade later. I had needed the physical strain and exhaustion; both my body and my brain had needed it. So I had picked up my sneakers one day after an extremely bad episode at school and an even worse fight with my mother when she had to pick me up and found out I had been suspended for two days, and had started running. I’d come back two hours later, covered in sweat and out of breath, but more balanced than I had been in over a year. I didn’t know it then, but I had needed an outlet to channel my energy and to still my mind. My brain didn’t go insane with thoughts when I ran; my emotions didn’t get the best of me. From that day on I had run every day. I had gotten up early in the morning to center myself before school and had continued that routine throughout college. It had helped me immensely when my mom was sick as well. I don’t know what it was about running, but it gave me the opportunity to focus my thoughts and control my emotions.
“Shit,” I said to myself when realization hit me. I hadn’t been running these past couple of mornings. The news of my mom’s cancer being back and everything else that was going on had thrown me so much I had simply forgotten. That must be why I was letting Logan get to me. I had to get control back. Running was out if I didn’t want to be late for my appointment; and I couldn’t be late. It had taken me weeks to nail Ashley down and make her promise to come talk to me this morning. I would not jeopardize that progress. My eyes swung to the main room of the gym and toward the heavy bags. I knew hitting the heavy bags was a lot like running. Before I could change my mind or let the thought of what I was about to do penetrate, I left Jesse and Logan behind and walked out of the room and toward that corner of the gym as if on a mission.
“Rainey?” I heard Logan call my name, but I didn’t answer. I went straight to the only heavy bag that wasn’t being used and took position. Then I took a deep breath and started hitting with my bare fists. The first few hits felt awkward, but after a couple of minutes, it was like my body remembered every little movement it had been conditioned to a decade ago. I moved fluidly as I imagined the bag being my opponent and kept the entire bag in my field of vision. I threw punch after punch at the bag without losing my balance as I stood firmly on both my feet and moved them in between the sounds of snapping smacks. I got in the zone and stilled my mind, throwing punches faster and faster, only resting for about two seconds in between each punch. I didn’t worry about hitting hard but focused on my breathing, explosive breathing as my father had taught me. It all came back to me as if no time had passed at all. I tried some combos: 1-2-1-2, then 1-2-3, then switched it up and threw 1-3-2, 3-2-1. I was completely in the zone. Nothing and n
obody existed around me as I powered myself out.
When sweat dripped into my eyes and my breathing came hard and fast, I stopped and braced my now sore hands on my thighs. My heart was racing as I tried to regulate my breathing. I saw a bottle of water appear in my field of vision and accepted it without looking up to see who was handing it to me, then I straightened and took a few big gulps.
“Holy shit.”
I opened my eyes and lowered the bottle. I had no clue who had said it, because there was a whole group of men standing around me, staring. Some with surprise in their eyes, some with appreciation, some with respect. Jesse looked at me with a shit-eating grin no seventeen-year-old kid should possess as he shook his head at me. Then I met Logan’s eyes; they were calculating. He was trying to figure me out as he was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. I held his stare. Then one of his eyebrows shot up in challenge and something else I didn’t want to interpret. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to dodge his questions for long. He had told me already he was on a mission to figure me out, to make me open up to him, to let him in, and I could tell he was even more determined now.
“What did you say your name was?” This came from a man standing a little further back. He seemed to be in his sixties and had trainer written all over him. His eyes were alert and assessing, as if he was trying to place me somehow. But I was pretty certain I had never met this man.
“Pete, this is Rainey Miller. Rainey, this is one of my trainers, Pete.” Logan walked up to me and stood beside me, his hand on the small of my back as he introduced us. I watched as Pete’s eyes narrowed on me just slightly before his face split into a grin. Then he uncrossed his arms and came toward me, his hand out for me to shake.
“She the girl you got your knickers in a twist over last night?” His eyes didn’t move from mine as he was ribbing Logan. Chuckles and teasing started up around us.