The Trainer

by Shey Stahl

  I expected him to say something, anything, but there was only silence, the awkward kind before his eyes deceived him and he briefly looked at me. “Because you wore it for him. Not me. Take it off.”

  I did. Right there in the hallway leaving me in my bra and underwear. He didn’t like that one bit. Well, he did, obviously, but it was clearly a distraction he didn’t want right then. Disappearing into his bedroom, a drawer slammed shut and he returned with two t-shits, handing me one and keeping one for himself.

  So there I was sitting on his couch, both of us wearing his t-shirts. I’d finally stopped crying and he had the article in his hand, I had a bottle of vodka in mine drinking it straight up. It was seven that morning and we were both drinking. Pathetic.

  He held up the article standing in front of me. “Did you write this for you, or me?”

  I considered that for a moment. “A little of both.”

  “Why?”

  He sat down beside me, our shoulders touched, and he sighed. “Because I think the public, including me, has the wrong image of you.”

  His eyes met mine. There was an uncertainty in his stare. “Maybe they have the right one.”

  “I don’t believe that.” I couldn’t break away from his eyes.

  Destry took a deep breath before continuing, and even though his voice was soft, I could hear the embarrassment in his words. “I threw that fight on purpose.” The intensity in his eyes returned.

  “Why?”

  His hand came up to run along his jaw, his eyes narrowing at the wall. He shook his head, contemplating his response. “For her.”

  “And then she left you?”

  He nodded and set the article down. “And then she left me.”

  My eyes, red and spilling over with tears, met his. The guilt tugged at my gut. I wasn’t any better than her. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I just… think if you’re going to have an image of me,” His eyes found mine again. “I want you of all people to have the right one.”

  Tentatively I reached out and touched his shoulder. “I knew when I saw you sparring for the first time you didn’t lose that fight because he was better. There was no way a man with your speed, skill and style could have lost.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Do you regret it?”

  Destry leaned forward and retrieved his beer. He looked at the bottle in his hand, tipping it with a contemplative glare. “I do. I said he was a better fighter. He wasn’t. And I’m done fighting for them. It used to be something I enjoyed. I’ve always wanted to be a heavyweight champion. Never anything else. Then one day I lost that and I started doing it for money. I lost my mind doing it that way. I was the champion of the world and lost it for her. I want that back.”

  “Her or the title?”

  “The title.”

  I gave him a nod. “Then get it back.”

  “I plan to.”

  We didn’t say anything for a few minutes, when he nudged my shoulder with his. His hands were restless, searching for himself within all this.

  I blinked slowly, the sight of him being so vulnerable nearly bringing me to tears.

  His eyebrows rose, and he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. “Did you fuck him?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel like I needed to. He should have known the answer to that.

  “I don’t like it when I ask a question and don’t get an answer.” He reached over and touched my cheek angling my face towards his. “Did you fuck him?”

  “What do you think the answer to that question is?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I knew you… but I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “No.” There was some anger to my tone.

  “Do you regret it?” His voice sounded sincere. Like he’s honestly asking.

  “Going to see the concert?”

  “No.” He said quietly, almost timid. Seeing him this way made me nervous. “After everything… do you regret sleeping with me?”

  “No. I don’t at all. I didn’t then and I still don’t.” I repeated, knowing he’d already asked me that. “I hate that you thought I would sleep with Silas.” My eyes dropped to my hands wrapped around the coffee mug. “Especially after the way we were.”

  Destry hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry. But what did you expect me to think? When we talked about you going to that concert… you made is seem like you wanted that to happen.”

  “After everything that happened between us, did you really think I would have done that?”

  “No ... I didn’t want to think that way… but my judgment has been clouded the past six weeks.”

  I had to admit, I smiled right then. I had this effect over this mountain of a man. Little ol’ me could make him do things that six weeks ago he wouldn’t have even thought of. Oh yeah, who’s to say that power only resides in the male physique?

  But then I had to ask the question I’d been dying to know the answer to, probably more than I wanted to know the answer to why Silas left.

  “Why did you sleep with me that night and then tell me you knew about that article? Why not just tell me?”

  He was quiet for a long moment and then looked over at me. “I knew what would happen when I told you. I knew it was over when I found out, but, I couldn’t let you go that easily.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were the first girl who didn’t care who I was. Being champion didn’t matter. What we had mattered. Or so I thought. And it wasn’t easy to see any other way. I wanted to believe we had something that only we shared.”

  I considered that. “So how come you couldn’t see that I never meant to hurt you?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just couldn’t. I’m still a guy…I can be very single minded at times.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Adam warned me. Then I went to see my dad and saw your name on the sign-in sheet. I did some research and then I saw you having lunch with Marcus Hadley. I remembered him and then Adam reminded me of who he was.” He sounded sad as he spoke. “Then I found your notebook when you were in the bathroom at the gym, it fell out of your bag when I moved it off the weight bench”

  In a sense, it was like I felt guilty for everything, as if somehow I had something to do with it, but I didn’t. I never would have done something like this had Marcus not pushed me to do so.

  And with Destry, I hurt him. Badly. More than he wanted to admit. That was on me.

  He wasn’t going to forgive me right away or forget what happened, but was it even something that needed to be forgiven?

  No. I needed to show him he could trust me.

  When you made a mistake you were usually harder on yourself than anyone else. I tortured myself over it. Destry knew that.

  It wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about our future and where we would take it, if we wanted it, if we had a future together.

  I remembered when I asked myself why people lived for right now. I wanted one night. I got it. What if you could have the greatest love of your life, but you had to relive the past to find it again?

  Well, I went back to the beginning and found that love. Where I ended up was far from where I thought I would be. I no longer wanted that love.

  Where I was now was where I should have been all along.

  This was it. This was what mattered.

  I used to hear girls say they’d never forget their first love. Even Jared said that.

  When you think about it, it’s the first piece of your heart that you gave to someone else. When you’re young, the love you gave your parents was different. They were there from the beginning. You automatically loved them from the start; you were designed to. Then someone, your first love, came along and you gave your heart to him or her. The difference was you gave it. Or maybe they stole it.

  Think about when you tie your shoes in a knot. When I was little, I used to tie my shoes in double, even triple, knots so they wouldn’t come unti
ed when I was running around. Then night would come, and I’d have to untie them. Those second and third knots were always easy to get untangled, but that first knot, the strongest one, always gave me the most trouble.

  That was first love. A bond you couldn’t untie. Eventually, if you were strong enough, you could get it untied and move on.

  Surely you survived, but wasn’t always easy.

  My theory?

  Move on and buy new laces.

  Southpaws are left handed fighters (unorthodox). They put their right foot forward, jab with their right hand and throw power punches with their left hand (rear hand). To a "normal" right handed fighter a southpaw's punches are coming from the wrong side. When a right handed and left handed boxer fight each other their lead foot is almost on top of the other person’s. Southpaws aren't always born left handed some are converted southpaws.

  I could walk away and deep down I would be as fine as I was the day I met Destry. But would I be happy if I walked away right now? No. I don’t think I would be.

  I learned a few things since I met him. Sometimes I felt like a breath was never really a breath but a shallow passing of air, a gasp needing relief. I felt like there was a wall in my lungs, which prevented them from expanding. Meeting him and experiencing what I did these last six weeks had changed me completely.

  We had just finished eating take-out when Destry said possibly the most sincere words yet. Ones that I knew he feared.

  “You’re never gonna see me as Destry.” He said, keeping his eyes low. “You’ll always see a trainer, a fighter. Never me.”

  “You’re wrong, Destry.” I put my plate on the coffee table. “It’s all I’ve ever seen.”

  He was looking at me again. I couldn’t deal with the vulnerable side of him; it made me feel vulnerable, too.

  “Tell me what you want, Tallan. Do you want me to walk away?” he asked, stepping forward as we stood in his kitchen now cleaning up. “Tell me.” He reached out and cupped my face. Bending down, in true Destry style of just going for it, he lowered his lips to mine, pressing lightly, warm and soft. My reaction was anything but gentle. And then neither was his. He inhaled loudly, my breath in my lungs exhaling just as harshly.

  “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.” I said against his lips. “It never will.”

  He pulled away watching my reaction. “No, that’s not good enough. You have to say it. If you want me to walk away, then say it.”

  This was what mattered. The experience. The forgiveness and how it made you feel. You rarely realized what forgiveness could do for your soul. But really, it was your love that really mattered. It was the only thing that mattered, aside from the experience.

  This was us forgiving in our own way.

  “Everyone who has ever said ‘trust me’ has left me with nothing.” His eyes when he looked at me, they wrecked me completely. “Are you gonna do the same?”

  My voice shook when I spoke. A familiar ache started in my chest and weaved around my throat. “No.”

  “You see me, right?” his bloodshot eyes found mine. “You see who I am now, all fight and no faith. If you leave, if I can’t trust you, what will happen then?”

  “You can trust me.” I reached out to touch the stubble of his jaw, my palm flattening against his cheek.

  “I’m not going anywhere. My dad once told me while he was training for a fight against Salvador Reyner that a moment of pain is worth a lifetime of glory. I believe that now.”

  I sighed, smiling at him as there was a knock on his door. “Do you feel that?” he placed my hand over his chest ignoring the knocking.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a heartbeat. That’s all I’ve had to tell me I’m alive this past year. A beat. And then you came around. You made me feel something pure, something worth believing.”

  “I love you.” I breathed, feeling like I’ve never felt before.

  Oh God, I said it. I fucking said it!

  He smiled and touched my cheek. “I’ll fight for you.” I remember his earlier words, “I fight for who I love.”

  He looked at me wearily. His eyes shifted from mine to my body and hands, searching my face for answers. I did the same, only his didn’t offer anything but the evidence of a rough night.

  Now here we were. Two hearts, two souls, one outcome.

  You could guess where it led from there.

  Yeah. The bedroom. I would think that was the direction we shouldn’t go. It wasn’t healthy, right?

  I didn’t care. This was our forgiveness.

  His strong hands trailed over my body, and then his voice brought me back to his face.

  “Tell me you love me,” he panted, shifting his position to look at me. “Tell me again.”

  He kicked away the remaining barriers of clothing dragging me to the middle of his bed, my head supported as he lowered me to the mattress. His knee was between my thighs, tongue between my lips, my hands greedy as they slid over his back muscles and squeezed his shoulders in an attempt to bring him closer.

  Shaking his head, his hands moved over my body, then lower to my hips as he sat back on his feet and then pushed himself down my body.

  Oh God, I knew what he was doing.

  Destry sighed taking in my naked body. “It fucking hurt to think I’d never see this again.”

  I ran my hands through his hair when he curled his hands around my thighs and spread them for him. “I couldn’t agree more.” I moaned. “It was torture.”

  When he kissed the inside of my thigh, I got a little nervous.

  “You don’t have to…”

  He shook his head moving his kiss to my center, pulling back slightly, his tongue swept over his lower lip. “I wasn’t asking for your approval, Tallan.” His voice took on a quiet intensity.

  Pussy. Meet your soul mate.

  I clawed at him, clutching at his strong arms, his tongue lapped at me from my clit all the way to my ass, his fingers hard and insistent in all the right areas. It was a reminder of the shower and I moaned at how good it felt and the shivers it sent through my body. He made me feel like every nerve ending in my body was on fire when he was around.

  After my first orgasm, Destry pulled back and watched me coming down from the high.

  “Fuck me, Destry. Please…”

  “Do you know what you’re asking for?” His look was long and hard, our loud breathing filled the room as his hands rested on either side of my head, and he pushed forward. His knees spread my legs; each movement was slow and so good.

  “I do.”

  “You can still leave. I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”

  He pressed his chest closer, warm skin comforting. I missed that warmth so much. It was then that he whispered that he never wanted to stop, and I whimpered refusing to allow any space between us.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Fuck,” he breathed, his nose brushing mine as he traced my bottom lip with his tongue, as if he was having trouble holding back for another second. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  He raised himself, hands fisted in the sheets and pushed forward. My eyes found his, bright with desire but clouded with lust I knew. My fingertips grazed over his flushed cheeks and then over his shoulders and to his sides. My nails dug into his sides, while I kissed from chin to temple and back as he cradled my head. My eyes drifted closed and took everything he was giving me. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this until right now.

  I pushed back and guided my palm to his heart, keeping my eyes locked with his.

  “Let this be mine,” I pleaded. His eyes blinked heavy, and my words were low. “Please.”

  He took my bottom lip between his teeth before pushing forward one last time, a low moan trapped against skin.

  “It is yours, Tallan,” he murmured against my chest. “That will never change. Never.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck bringing him back to me, slick bodies meeting their limit.

  “Don’t
ever leave me again,” he said, staring at me, holding my gaze with a fire that was still present. His hips grinding into mine faster. I could feel his balls slapping against me, my head being pushed up into his headboard as he exposed every little piece of my soul.

  When he started to move more forceful, I remembered his strength and how much I craved it. I wanted to tell him to pull my hair, but I didn’t. I’d let him move at his own pace.

  The way he watched me, scrutinizing every breath and every blink assured me there was no bitterness there anymore. He didn’t hate me for what I did, he loved with every piece of himself that he gave to me. This was him forgiving me. I could feel it then presented in his warmth and gentle touch.

  I heard myself make a low moan when one of his hands traced down my chest over my waist and then gripped me firmly as he pressed his pelvis into me a little harder. “You wanted it… take it.” He growled grinding his hips into mine.

  I would. I would forever take it for this man.

  He gave me more right then. He gave me as much as I wanted, everything I needed. And I took it all.

  My right hand traced his face, slid down his neck, his arm, over his collarbone and gently over the rippled muscles of his chest. The touch of his bare skin with mine was everything I needed.

  With the need, we didn’t last long at all and it was over sooner than both of us wanted.

  When his breath evened out he rolled off me and to my side holding me against him.

  He whispered in my ear, low and raspy, rocking forward. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I said meaning every word of it.

  That night, just as I was contemplating staying over again, this time in his bed and not on the floor in his bathroom, Jared called my phone. I answered knowing he wasn’t going to stop calling.

  “Where have you been?”

  “With Destry.” I looked over at Destry who was staring at the ceiling as I sat on his bed with him. His left hand raised and ran down my spine. I smiled, content with how this was going and how easy it seemed for us to forgive.

  “I was just there and no one answered. I’m coming over there, with Marcus.” And then he hung up.