by Shey Stahl
He finished the set and then replaced the bar and sat up, his palms flat against the bench. Staring down at his feet, he answered quietly. “I suppose I’m not dating anyone in the sense that I was referring to.”
Oh God, what if I’m not the only one he’s sleeping with? How come I’ve never considered that until now?
His expression shifted, but I couldn’t place the emotion on his face when he pried for more. “And this Silas guy… you loved him?”
“I did, back then. I wasn’t lying when I said we’d dated in high school. Then he left and I hadn’t heard from him until a few weeks ago.”
Again, he only nodded and lay back down for another set.
“Did you love Stella?”
It was a few minutes before he answered. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to. “I did. Very much so.”
“Have you thought about talking to her and seeing if you could make it work?”
Stupid idea. Never talk to her again.
His shoulders tensed as he sat back up again. “No. We’re done.” Standing, he gave me a nod to sit down and removed the majority of the weight off so I could actually lift it.
I thought he’d turn away, maybe I’d asked too much, delved into his private life too much. He surprised me and kept his eyes on mine.
As I lay down on the bench, he straddled the bench, keeping his weight off me and then placed his hands on the bar hovering over me. He leaned in slowly but before his lips met mine, he whispered, “I don’t want her.”
If my heart could have melted, it did right then.
When the workout was finished, he tilted his head toward the door. “I gotta get going, sorry.”
Please don’t be meeting another girl!
“Oh, yeah… uh, me too.” I reached for my bag on the floor.
“I gotta meet someone tonight but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He started walking toward the door and then stopped when I didn’t follow.
“Yep. You go ahead. I’m gonna stretch and then head out.”
He nodded, the door closing behind him with a thud. I sat there staring at the wall after I got my shoes on. My mind was all over the place jumping from Destry to Silas, and then back to Destry and what he was doing to me. I’d gotten myself in deep and needed a mandatory eight count to think about where I was heading.
Side to side and rolling movements that are used as defense to avoid punches.
We skipped a workout on Sunday, so we made up for it on Tuesday night. Usually Tuesday and Wednesday I didn’t work out and it did throw my schedule off a little. I had three articles for the Seattle Times to finish this week, but since I’d been lying awake most nights researching Destry, I had very little time for anything else.
And I was borderline obsessed with him after all that research. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything.
“You wanna go get some food?” he asked as I changed after our run. “I’m starving.”
Damn it. Why did I have to eat before this? Ugh. “Oh, uh, well, I already ate. Every Tuesday Jared and I have tacos.”
He shrugged, reaching for his bag, and turned to leave, as if this was no big deal to him. “That’s cool.”
I reached out and touched his back, stopping him. “But I did work up an appetite.”
“If it’s the appetite I’m thinking of, there won’t be any food involved.” He grinned like a kid in a candy store. I loved it when he let go of all his defenses and actually joked around.
“I need food… anything past that won’t happen without feeding me.” I laughed on my way out of the basement.
We ended up going to Shiro’s Sushi on 2nd Street. I loved that place even though it cost me an entire week’s salary to go there. As we ate, Destry appeared agitated again. As if something was bothering him, but he didn’t seem as though he wanted to talk about it. I hated seeing that side of him again. I wanted to take away his pain and his burdens. I wanted to help him.
“How’s your dad doing?” The thought of James made me smile. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to see him, but I didn’t regret it. I couldn’t wait to go back.
“He’s about the same.” His eyes fell to the table, chop sticks in his hand. He stirred the soy sauce around, mixing it with the wasabi. “He doesn’t remember me. And my fucking uncle… he’s draining me. I can’t keep taking care of him and still look out for myself.”
Okay, so it’s his uncle that’s bothering him. Right then, with that vulnerability lacing in his words, I could understand why it was so hard for him to be around most people. Why he wore that constant state of anger like a coat of arms. He always had to worry about people’s intentions and whether or not they were pure. That didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy.
I wanted to tell Marcus again that I couldn’t finish. Knowing what he’d been through, he would assume my intentions weren’t pure. Nothing could have been farther from the truth.
But if I didn’t get this side of Destry captured in that article, people would always have this perception of who they think he was, not who he really was. I think the misconception was displayed mostly in the articles about him. Which was where I wanted to make the difference and show him in a different light.
I watched a video last night of him that explained his thoughts after the fight.
He was quoted saying, “So what? I lost. He’s the better fighter. Big deal.”
The thing was, it was a big deal to him. I could tell any time he talked about losing. Sure, after he lost, he wanted everyone watching to believe his words. At least that was my theory. But I didn’t.
With a sigh, he placed his napkin on the table, his voice rougher than before. “Back to my place?”
We went back to his apartment and didn’t even wait to get inside the door before we had sex. Did it against his door first and then moved to the kitchen. I thought Destry was rough before, but have you ever had sex for two hours straight without stopping? I could now mark that particular task off my bucket list I didn’t know I had.
That motherfucker had me bending in directions I didn’t think was humanly possible. And I loved every damn minute of it.
And I’ll tell you something else. You knew you’d had good sex when you had a fan on you and you drank a gallon of water in the span of an hour afterwards. Hell, even his sheets were soaked from sweat. I mean, fuck, it was insane. As gross as sex sweaty sheets sound, it was worth it.
I’D JUST GOTTEN to sleep—sadly in my own bed—but it was the type of sleep where I could have easily been woken up. And I was. By the rattling of our front door.
Never did I think Jared was serious when he said we had shady neighbors. I mean, I wasn’t naïve, but I didn’t think someone would break into our apartment with Jared here. Everyone in this building knew he was a cop. Were they that stupid?
There was more banging around, and my heart pounded, anticipating being murdered. My entire body pricked with a coldness as I frantically searched darkness.
What time is it and where is Jared?
I was so sore at that point I actually contemplated lying there and pulling my blankets over my head. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me type of deal. Kind of like being a child when you hid from your parents knowing damn well they saw the lump under the blankets.
What do I do? Run? Run where?
After a lot of banging, they got the door open and that finally woke Jared up.
I heard him rustling around in his room after he fell out of bed, more than likely searching for his gun.
There was an uproar of noise, both from the intruder, and Jared, and it was probably some kid because one look at Jared and his gun he must have bolted out the door because I heard Jared yell, “That’s right, asshole! Run away!”
When I came around the corner holding my unplugged lamp in my hand, I was met with Jared’s white ass as he stood in the hallway stark naked. He screamed like a goddamn girl when I tapped on his shoulder. Spinning around to point his gun in my face.
“I see that.” I pushed the gun away from my head. “And that gun is loaded, dumb shit.” I smiled and brushed my hair from my face, setting my lamp on the floor. When I was eye level with his crotch, my eyes drifted between his legs, smiling. “Hello, old friend.”
“The safety is on.” Jared covered his crotch with his left hand, but still smiled.
Scratching the side of his head with the barrel of the gun, he drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Holy shit, did that just happen or am I dreaming?”
“I’m curious….” Standing, I motioned to his crotch, and then the gun. “What were you going to do, sword fight him or shoot him?”
He wasn’t amused and turned to walk into his bedroom to put clothes on.
I went and closed the front door, locked it, and then for good measure, moved the bookcase beside the door in front of it. We were both pretty jumpy after that.
“Should we call the police?” I asked as we cuddled on the couch wrapped in a blanket. I refused to allow any space between us.
“Hello?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “What am I?”
“A patrol cop.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t handle this.” This time Jared shifted to look at me. “And I’m a cop. Just because I’m assigned to patrol doesn’t mean I’m not a real cop.”
“Okay.” I held up my palms. “My bad.”
“Damn straight, woman.” He snorted, turning back around and facing the television.
We were watching SpongeBob.
When he turned, I noticed his shoulder had a large gash on it. “Jared, you’re bleeding!” I never liked the sight of blood. At all. Instantly, nausea rolled through me. “How’d that happen?”
“The truth?” His face paled.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“It happened at work today.” He groaned, running his hands over his face. “I tried to be nice to this lady crossing the street and she fucking stabbed me.”
I covered my mouth, shocked. “Did you arrest her?”
“No.” Jared rolled his eyes, pouting. “I was screaming in pain. She fucking stabbed me. Her cane doubled as a ninja sword!”
I started laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, and then I was reminded of my evening and moaned in pain.
“Rough night again?” He was mocking me and clearly didn’t care if I was in pain. Especially not after being stabbed.
“Yeah, I’m sore.”
“From working out?”
“Well, no. I had sex with Destry for like two hours this morning.”
Jared’s eyebrows drew together. “Two hours? Is that even possible and not cramp up?”
“Apparently so. We did. I drank lots of water too. And had a banana.”
He gave me another pouty face, his bottom lip stuck out, blue eyes saddened. “I’m jealous.”
“Why? You’re sleeping with Catie.”
“I haven’t in weeks.” Jared glanced up from the blanket he’d been fidgeting with for the last few minutes but didn’t focus on anything in particular. “She’s in a relationship with someone she works with. So now I’m back to dating myself in the shower.”
“What? No way. Catie never said anything to me about it.”
He still wouldn’t look at me. “Did you think she would?”
“Well, yeah. We’re friends.”
Bringing his hands up to his face, he ran them through his hair, and then brought them back to his face where they stayed for a moment. He sighed harshly. “Nah, I don’t think she would tell you. She knows we’re good friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be. Now stop talking about this.”
I shoved his shoulder. “You’re so cranky when you’re not getting any.” I had to pee, so I got up and changed into my yoga pants and a hoodie instead of my shorts and tank top and then grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand. There was a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.
Tallan, it’s Silas. Wanted to make sure you got the ticket.
I didn’t reply, but I took my phone with me back into the living room and sat down next to Jared. He’d poured himself a bowl of cereal.
“Silas sent me a text.” Jared raised an eyebrow but continued eating his cereal. “I thought I wouldn’t care as much but for some reason, I’m excited to see him. A little.”
“It’s because you never got over him.” He shoved another bite of cereal in his mouth. When he was done chewing, he added, “First loves are that way.”
“And who was your first love?”
Jared smiled, milk dripping on his chin. “Becky Thompson. She pushed me off the big toy when I was eight.”
“And you still think about her?”
“I do,” he admitted.
“You’re a cop. Track her down.”
“Don’t need to.” He finished his last bite of cereal and then drank the milk that remained in the bowl. “She lives next door to my parents. She’s married and has two little boys now.”
“Wow.”
“That wasn’t the point of my story, Tallan.” He gave me that look, one that spoke of sympathy in a way, and sighed. “What I meant was, if I had the chance to talk to her, I would.”
“So, you get it?”
“I’ve always understood why you wanted to see him. What I didn’t get was changing who you are to do so.”
He had a point. I meant what I said when I told Destry these changes were for me. It wasn’t about Silas anymore. It was about me. It didn’t stop the fact that I had to know why Silas left. A girl like me needed the answer to that why.
And that was the only reason as to why I wanted to see him. “Have you told Destry?” Jared gave me another look. This time it was the fatherly one he had every now and then.
“About Silas?”
“About the article.”
“No.”
“If you want whatever this is to be something, tell him. The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be to tell him.” There was a sadness to Jared’s tone. His feelings for Catie ran deeper than he let on.
I’d been so wrapped up in my own Silas-Destry troubles that I hadn’t even noticed Catie wasn’t hanging around much. I’d have to tackle this conversation with Jared when I knew what in the hell I was going to do about my own relationship problems.
A hook is an inside power punch. It's a short sideways punch delivered with the elbow bent so the arm forms sort of a hook. The temple, side of the jaw, ribs and liver is the target.
In four weeks, I managed to lose fifteen pounds. Destry was good. I couldn’t say it was all from working out. I was sure my newfound sex life had something to do with it too.
I was in the basement with Destry Thursday night, beaming over my results and the new yoga pants and tank top I was wearing. “I can’t believe I’ve lost fifteen pounds already!”
“You look good.” He winked, picking up a weight from the mat where we were doing lunges.
“So, I didn’t before?”
Why did you just ask that? What the hell?
He raised an eyebrow at me, a scowl plastered on his face. “No, I didn’t say that. I would have fucked you even if you hadn’t lost any weight.”
Nervous laughter escaped me. “You say that now but when we first met, you hated me.”
“So?” He snorted, licking his bottom lip and focusing more on my form than my face. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have sex with you. And I did. A few times now.”
Okay, so he still hates me? I’m confused. “So you did hate me?”
“No. I didn’t hate you. But I wasn’t friendly and I know that. Sorry. You have to understand that everyone in my life has screwed me over.” My heart started pounding in my chest, pulsing in my ears. “Besides my dad. Don’t you think anyone in their right mind would be a little apprehensive to meet someone?”
“Point taken.”
The problem, it was already too late. If I wanted to write that article, it was too late the minute I had sex with him. I should have asked him first. And I still could, but I didn’t have the guts to ask.
“Good.” He nodded toward the wall. “Time for squats. So, get to them and I’ll sit over here and imagine those beautiful thighs wrapped around me.”
And I was supposed to somehow concentrate on my form with that visual in my brain?
Way to go, Destry.
This is when one fighter purposely goes down for the count or pretends to be knocked out.
A week passed and I still hadn’t told him. A week. But really, I’d had five weeks and hadn’t told him. My plan was to finish the article, show him, and then ask his permission before giving it to Marcus.
Wasn’t it easier to beg for forgiveness rather than approval?
No.
My theory was, if he was upset, I wouldn’t publish it.
There comes a point when you know you’re past the point of no return. That point was weeks ago but it became even more apparent when Adam, Destry’s trainer, spoke to me for the first time.
Usually he gave me a nod, nothing else. Didn’t even say hello.
Destry knew I was freelance writer. He’d never asked much more than that. So it was a little strange having Adam ask me questions like that night.
“What kind of articles do you write?” he asked, looking away from me to his left at Destry standing near the wall talking on his cell phone.
I was a journalist. I looked for details where others wouldn’t. I picked up on questions and how and why they’re asked. It was how my brain worked. “Everything from politics to cosmetics,” I answered, knowing damn well he would sense my apprehension.
Fuck. You’re screwed, Tallan.
He nodded, his eyes on Destry, and then he watched me, eyes assessing. “Sports?”
