One day at a time, one fight at a time, until we’re through it all.
“Thanks, Mom,” he snickers before racing away from me.
“You little fucker!” I bellow out at him as I chase him to the shoe pile next to the front door.
* * *
We’re not dressed for the gym, but that doesn’t stop Casey and me from setting the box of donuts on Chase’s desk and running for the locker room before anyone can see us.
We both slow down though, only a little, to see if Bree is back at the front desk, but keep going when we see her chair is still empty.
Fuck if it doesn’t pull at my soul to think she left us, left us and didn’t even say why.
I’ve sent her a shit ton of texts, hoping one of them would get her to text back. I’ve even sent her declarations of my love…
And all I get is silence. Fucking silence.
I know I should chase after her, but for what? She made it pretty clear when she disappeared that she didn’t want to have anything to do with us anymore.
I think even Casey texted her with his phone a couple of times, and it fucking kills me to think she’s stonewalling him too. She probably has us both blocked.
She’s blocked us and ghosted us.
What can I fucking do?
Thankfully Casey and I
both have a spare set of workout clothes to change into because while we were planning our prank, we also talked about my ass getting back to the grindstone for the upcoming fight.
The world is burning down around us, but it won’t stop us from moving forward.
Every time I think of slowing down this week and maybe pulling out of the match, I can’t do it. Something inside me has been growing every day since I came back to the gym, something angry and violent. This isn’t about payback for the first time Jamey and I fought each other.
No, this is about his videos and his little taunts.
He’s doing shit like this to get a reaction. He’s trying to get into my head and fuck with it. But every time I see an interview with him, I feel my body getting closer and closer to what I’ve been working toward.
Closer to being able to dish out some serious fucking damage.
“I don’t know whose fucking donuts those are!” Chase yells from the front of the gym.
And Casey and I start shaking from the fucking giggles before we can get a hold on ourselves.
Thankfully there’s no one around to see us. We’ve been in the back corner, using the rowing machines for the past fifteen minutes.
“Don’t give me that, Chunky!” Dale shouts back at Chase. “I wanna see you sweating today! We’re going to work off some of that pansy Avery’s let you get away with!”
“I’m not one of your fighters, old man! This is my gym, you can’t go bossing me around!” Chase bellows back.
Ducking his head down, Casey looks like he’s seen a ghost as he whispers, “Did he just call Dale an old man?”
Dale growls, “I can’t, can I?” so loud suddenly every fighter in the gym is busy with whatever they’re working on.
“Ah… fuck, Dale,” Chase sputters before he heads for the locker room.
If I didn’t recognize the murderous tone in Dale’s growl, I might be stupid enough to laugh. Dale’s face is so red though, I know to keep my head down.
“Casey,” I mutter out the side of my mouth, “this was never us.”