Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance
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I don’t think he likes that I understand his language. And not because he’s got some ego about the signs, either. I think it just took him by surprise, and I get the feeling that Cort van Breda hates surprises.
I didn’t have to show him the signs. I could’ve kept that secret. But I wanted him to know. It felt like something he should know.
We ran out of food seven days ago. Unsurprisingly, no one came to pick us up or restock our pathetic pantry. But that morning Cort got up before I did and when I went down to the training level, he was messing around with a giant net. It was pretty obvious that if we wanted to eat, we’d have to get that food ourselves. We had nothing left. Not even a cup of rice. It was all gone.
We spent the entire day fishing with that heavy net, casting it out and pulling it in over, and over, and over again, hoping for fish.
We caught lots of tiny ones. And we didn’t throw them away. But tiny fishes aren’t enough and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that there is no way to fillet a two-inch fish. You just have to eat it whole.
I want to hurl just thinking about it now. But that’s exactly what we did that night. Cort ate like thirty of them. He was so full that night, he sighed and patted his belly in satisfaction. I only managed one and it was so disgusting I puked it back up.
The next day, we did it all again. It was easier that time because I settled into Cort’s rhythm with the net-pulling. But my body was still sore from the day before. And that night, even though once again we only caught the tiny fishes, I forced myself to swallow five of them.
I clutched my belly that night, just like Cort. Only I was sick, not content and full.
It took two more days to finally net three large fish that could be filleted. And by that time, I was swallowing those little fish like a champ. I even ate a tiny fish that one of the birds dropped at my feet.
This made Cort smile like a boy. They do that a lot. And he eats them too. Every single time. I get the feeling this is something he’s done for years. And I want that story. I want to know what’s up with these fucking birds and how Cort van Breda—the Sick Heart himself—managed to tame them like he’s Tarzan.
But of course, I didn’t get that story. I will probably never get that story.
And tame isn’t even the right word. Those stupid birds love him. Even the gulls. They don’t feed him the way some of the albatrosses do, but they don’t move when he gets near. They aren’t afraid of him the way they are me.
We cut the meat of those three fish into strips and dried them in the sun. And that’s what we’ve been chewing on for the past two days.
Today we are foodless again. And I’m not looking forward to more fishing.
But when I come out of the bathroom and go looking for my jump rope, ready to pretend fishing isn’t happening, Cort isn’t holding the net. He’s just standing on the edge of the training platform, looking out to sea.
I walk over, wondering what’s attracted his attention, and that’s when I see the ship coming right towards our platform.
I gasp, and Cort turns to me, shaking his head. I’m not sure what that means. No, he will not let Udulf take me? Or no, there’s nothing he can do?
But then I look back at the ship and realize it’s neither of those. Because as the ship gets closer and angles the side of the hull up to the rig, I count twenty kids on deck wearing orange life jackets.
And then I see Maart. He waves to us.
No. Come on, Anya. Maart is waving to Cort. Not me. I saw those two together on the Bull of Light. There is something between them. Something more than just trainer and doctor, if that’s what Maart is. And it’s more likely that Maart’s skills were built out of necessity and involved a lot of on-the-job training. He is probably half the reason Cort is still alive right now. Maart gives no fucks about me at all.
I saw the way he looked at Cort in that clinic back on the Bull. He was very worried about the blood loss and maybe he’s just not used to having strangers in the clinic with him after a fight when he’s putting Cort back together, but it might just be that he didn’t care if I knew.
Maybe he wanted me to know that they are something more.