Haley
My mouth dries out and a weird pressure compresses my throat, almost as if a ghost cups my neck and squeezes. Sitting on the mats next to the ring, I slowly wrap my hands. Each layer a confirmation of a death sentence. It’s strange how I used to love this ritual and how I loved being in the ring. Stepping under the rope, I’d leave behind who I was in my everyday life, and I’d emerge on the other side with a clear mind—every thought and movement calm and precise.
With one hit, Matt stole my joy and made me terrified of the few things in life I enjoyed.
There’s a shift in the gym—a jovial mood among everyone else. The guys I’ve known a good portion of my life are eager to see my return to the ring and the new guys that have heard of me from rumors or have possibly seen one of my fights in person or on YouTube seem to be excited, too. Not too long ago, I held a national title. Now I’m a fraud.
Jax crouches in front of me, swiping my boxing gloves off the floor. “Me or Kaden?”
I lift my eyebrows, confused as to what he’s asking.
“Who do you want to spar with? Me or Kaden?”
He undoes the Velcro and holds out the hole for me to sink my hand into. I remain silent, too stunned by the offer. I love him and my brother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
I shove my hand in and Jax secures the glove. “You’ve avoided sparring, so I’m guessing you’ve got a mental block. We’ll go easy. A few hit series, a couple of low kicks for shits and giggles. Nothing fancy.”
I slip on my headgear, then let Jax help me with the other glove. “That’s not what John had in mind. He wants me to spar.”
“You’re wrong. He wants you back.”
Jax stands and I place a glove on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Matt.” For betraying my family. “For everything.”
Jax glances over his shoulder and I’m startled to see Kaden on the other side of the ropes. He nods and Jax playfully mocks a two-one combo in his direction. “Water under the bridge, but this doesn’t mean we’re good with West. If he’s with you, he’s got to earn our respect.”
I go to rip off the gloves. If they aren’t going to help me train West, then I’m not sparring. Jax plants his hand over the Velcro. “You go into the ring—we help you. The kid is bad news, but at least now we’ll be there to have your back.”
“You’ve always had my back,” I say with a grin to lighten the mood.
He shakes his head. “It’s hard to help someone when they’re damned insistent on doing all their own fighting.”
Jax offers a hand off the floor and I accept. “West’s a good guy and I care about him.” Possibly more than care.
“He’s an unknown and he’s got a temper. Remember, I saw him lose it last night.”
My heart plunges because Jax is right. West permits his emotions to rule him and that will be a problem in the cage.
John slams the door to his office. “If I wanted an audience, I would have sold tickets. Back to work!”
The smack of punches on the bags and the tap of fighters knocking out combinations against each other fill the gym, but it doesn’t take much to notice it’s halfhearted.
John grabs a pair of punch mitts, bends under the ropes and enters the ring.
“I thought I was sparring.” I motion toward the mitts on his hands.
“You will, but I told you we’re starting slow.”
I follow him into the ring. Since returning to the gym, I’ve only done bag work with John. I’ve used the mitts with West, but I’ve yet to really throw a punch at anyone. John holds the mitts near his head. I inhale deeply and my guard goes up. One second. Another.
I hit Matt in anger, but he struck me first and it hurt. If I didn’t fight back, would it have gone as far as it did? If I weren’t trained, would he have even hit me? Where do Matt’s choices end and mine begin? I drop my guard. “What if I can’t do it?”
John widens his arms so that the targets are at arm’s length. “Then we’ll ease you in slower. Jab, cross.” He shakes his right hand. “Then jab, cross.” And shakes his left. “Let’s warm you up.”
“Okay.” Some of the tightness unfurls. No punches toward the head. I can do this. “Okay.”
My gloves slide back to my temples and my feet rock into position. Okay.