Brave

by Natalie Gayle

  If worse came to worse, I could always ask him to bring me home and I knew he would. Responsibility and honour were everything to him. I’d never expected that from a fighter. I don’t know why. I guess I just assumed they’d all be crass and rough.

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” He immediately flashed me a big cheeky grin. It was the most carefree I’d ever seen him look. There was always such an intensity about him. But this grin was boyish and completely unguarded. “But just realise that this is the first night I’ve spent away from home or hospital in five years. I know that sounds stupid but I kind of feel like I’m six again and going on my first sleepover.” My choice of words might have been considered a little humorous, but there was no humour in the tone of my voice. This was a very big step for me.

  He squeezed my hand with his.

  “Thank you, Eden, for trusting me. So I guess I’d better pick up some more ice-cream if we’re going to have a pyjama party.”

  We both laughed at that. It was exactly how it felt.

  It wasn’t Xander I was worried about. Could I trust myself not to freak out, not to have a nightmare or even worse—jump him?

  * * *

  Eden

  “So tell me about the fight.” We were sitting on his sofa with the takeaway Thai food spread out on his makeshift coffee table. I couldn’t wait to see what his new furniture would look like when it arrived later in the week.

  He loaded up a forkful, but looked across at me and shrugged his shoulders very nonchalantly. “It’s a big fight—a rematch to be exact. I beat a guy called Luke O’Donnell a.k.a “Lights Out” a few years back on my way to where I got to last time. He’s been busy and has made a big name for himself. I’m the only one who’s ever beaten him and he wants another crack at me.”

  Well, I guess that made sense. This guy wanted his chance to redeem himself. That would also make him very determined, I’d have thought. I also sensed that Xander was nowhere near as relaxed about this fight as he was making out. How could he be? He hadn’t been back in the cage in a long time and I knew what was haunting him.

  “When is it?”

  “Eight weeks.”

  I must have looked really stunned. “Yeah, that look on your face about sums it up. It’s a huge ask but not impossible. I’m in good condition but not fit enough for a fight like that.”

  Xander kept alluding to the training being really hard; I wanted to know more. “But, don’t you train hard all the time?”

  “There’s training to maintain and learn, but then there’s training for a big fight. That’s what this will be. I’ll be running everyday. Sparring, grappling, bag and pad work, plus a thousand other torturous things that Reed will dream up. But that’s only part of it. I’ll be exhausted everyday. I’ll hurt in places that I don’t even know I have. My diet will be totally restricted to specific foods and the further it goes the grumpier and more difficult to be around I’ll get—I’ve got to drop twelve kilos to make weight. It’s not easy.”

  “What?” I was stunned. My jaw dropped open and I fumbled my fork. “Twelve kilos. But there doesn’t seem to be any extra on you now.” From what I could tell, he was all hard muscle. I’d never seen him without a shirt but I’d felt his arms around me. He was all hard lines.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot more I can drop. But it’s nice of you to think I look okay, if that’s what you were getting at?” He winked at me and I dropped my eyes to my plate. Then he put his plate on the tea chest and got up and headed to the bedroom area. He came back with an iPad.

  He scrolled through a few screens then turned it around and showed it to me. “That’s me at weigh-in for my last fight.”

  The picture was horrible. His handsome face was sunken and drawn. There were huge dark circles under his eyes and he looked sick. Every muscle in his body was visible and the skin over his muscles looked almost wrinkled and dry. “That’s what I look like at about 76.5kg. I fight Welterweight so I need to be under 77kg at weigh-in.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I went with honesty. “You look terrible.”

  He laughed and it was easy to tell he was amused by what I‘d said. “Not only do I look like shit, I feel like it too, at that stage!”

  He flicked at the iPad again and turned it around. “This is me later the same day after I’ve gone and had a refuel and hydrate.” The photo he showed me, barely looked like the same person. His frame looked really full and seemed to glow with health. He looked mega strong and fierce.

  “I don’t understand, how?” The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.

  “I was almost eight kilos heavier there.” He said with a little smirk.

  I was dumbfounded and didn’t understand at all. “The same day?” I asked trying to wrap my brain around it all.

  “Yep.” He looked a little smug and proud of himself. “Do I look a little better here?”

  “Oh, fishing for compliments, are you?” I couldn’t help but play along with him. He grinned at me. “Okay, you look incredible,” I said shyly and he grinned at me again which just made my temper spark. “There I said it and like you don’t know it! But I don’t really understand how.”

  “I basically eat and drink myself silly to build up my strength again. To make weight I have to work out crazy hard and literally sweat every ounce of fluid out of myself. I was so dizzy at that weigh-in, I could barely stand. But there’s one more image you need to see to get the full picture of the journey.” He turned the iPad back around but rather than show me another image he put it down on the sofa and grabbed the neck of his T-shirt at the back and pulled it over his head. It was one of those sexy moves guys made but this was the first time I’d really seen it happen in front of me, for me.

  I’m really glad I had the plate and fork in my hand to give me something to keep them occupied, because it was one thing seeing Xander shirtless in a photo but there was something totally overwhelming seeing him in the flesh just an arms distance away from me.

  Then my brain started to register. This was the body that had been pressed up against me while he’d been showing me any number of moves at the dojo, or last night on the sofa. This is who I’d been sitting up close and personal with at the café. His body was so perfect, I didn’t quite know where to start to catalogue it. I wanted to look, but I fought the urge to duck my head as well. He was so beautiful with all those lean hard muscles and tattoos that were so stunning and realistic they could only be described as art.

  “This is how I start. What you saw is the stages I go through to get to the cage.”

  The enormity of what he was telling me started to hit. To do what he did he had to put his body through the most brutal hell. Why would he do that to something that looked so perfect and beautiful already?

  “Those last few days are hell. I’m unbearable to be around. My body’s weak; I’m starving hungry and my thirst is unquenchable.” He was telling me all this very honestly and I wondered why?

  “What’s the motivation? It sounds terrible.”

  He picked up his plate again and heaped more food on, from the plastic containers. “To know you’re the best. As crazy as it sounds, there’s actually a hell of a lot of satisfaction to be able to transform my body from this to what you saw. It’s the visual proof of my dedication and training. Knowing I can go the distance, make the commitment. Winning the fight is the reward.”

  I thought about taking another bite and realised my appetite was gone and all my doubts had returned. How could I possibly be attractive to somebody that looked like that? Someone that had such total control of his body and surroundings—someone that was so focused on what he wanted. I just didn’t want to be scared anymore.

  “Are you finished?”

  I nodded but didn’t look at him.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable sitting here without a shirt?” It was a direct question and cut right to the chase, which I’d come to realise was very much Xander’s modus operandi.

  “A little.”

&nb
sp; “So much so you can’t even look at me it seems.” There was a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  “It’s not what you think.” I blurted out in defence before I realised what I was saying.

  “Well, explain it to me then.” He came back just as quick with his answer.

  I closed my eyes and wondered what the hell I should say. What was the point of continuing this whole thing?

  “Overwhelmed. That’s how I feel.”

  I could feel him studying me as I looked down at my hands in my lap.

  “How do you mean overwhelmed? In a good way or a bad way?” There was no playfulness now. In fact his voice sounded more cautious than anything.

  I flopped back onto the sofa searching for a way to make him understand. “How does anyone explain overwhelmed? You make me feel so many things all at once. Good and bad. You’re so perfect and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I want to run my hands all over you and do other crazy stuff and that scares the living shit out of me. To feel that way, even if it is good and exciting, is just so foreign to me. But then I feel like I’m in some kind of twisted dream when I look at you and then compare it to me…I keep expecting to wake up from this dream and there’ll be a crowd of people all laughing and sniggering at me for being so stupid to delude myself.”

  “I’m not following you, Eden.”

  The tears were pricking at the back of my eyes and I knew I was only seconds from having a flood. “I’m wondering how someone who looks like you could be interested in someone like me whose body is scarred and ugly. It’s beauty and the beast and I’m obviously the damned beast.” There I’d said it and the floodgates had opened. The tears were in free fall down my cheeks.

  Xander said nothing just got up and fetched a box of tissues from the bathroom, but instead of returning to where he’d been sitting he moved closer and pulled me in tight to his lap.

  “You’re beautiful Eden, sure you have scars. Everyone does. Yours you wear for everyone to see. Mine I keep hidden away. They all hurt and break us a little along the way. There’s no prerequisite to be perfect in order to be beautiful. There’s an old saying and I think it’s very true. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and to me, Eden, you are beautiful, because it’s not just about how you look. It’s also how you are as a person that makes you attractive to me. So will you please quit worrying about stuff that is just not true? And no, you’re not dreaming. Have I given you any reason to think that I’m not interested in you as a woman?”

  “No, it just seems so unbelievable to me, I guess.”

  “Well, believe it. And if I have to spell it out. I will. That’s my very hard dick pressed into your backside. You’re the one, Gem. No one else here. So you need to start taking note and working with what’s real and not what you’re making up in your head.”

  Heat washed through me. I was so much in my own head again, I’d missed the obvious. I was letting my fears and insecurities cloud my thinking on everything.

  “I get that you’re scared. I get that everything is new, particularly between us, but you need to be open-minded if you can. See and judge things based on what you experience now rather than what you’ve let yourself be persuaded to believe over the last five years. You have to build a new path in your head on how things should be or are now, rather than what was in the past. You used to have dreams and aspirations. It’s okay to have them again.”

  Then it dawned on me. Somehow we’d gone from talking about him and the crazy regime he put his body through, to me. But wasn’t Xander on very much the same path as me? How could he preach to me about doing all of this if he wasn’t committed to face his demons as well?

  “So what about you?” There was more resolve and steel in my voice and I liked it. I pushed myself off his lap and stood looking down at him.

  “What about me?” He looked a little shocked.

  “So far you’ve been pushing me and prodding me to change, to face my fears. But what about you?” I accused. My hand shot out and I pointed right at him aggressively. I think it stunned me just about as much as it did him. Where was this coming from? “Are you going to take the fight or sit here and wonder what if? You didn’t lose your career, you’re just choosing not to fulfil it. What’s worse?”

  His face became a mask before he lurched to his feet, pressed one hand to the back of the sofa and vaulted over it with the gracefulness of a cat. He did it to put distance between us and I was damned fine with that right now.

  “So that’s how it is?” I nodded my head and glared at him. “Don’t do as I do, do as I say! How convenient.” I could see my words bouncing off him like blows and his face was stormy with emotion. I was seeing him, but feeling me. Not only was I standing on my own two feet, I was questioning and pushing back. I was taking back my power and personality and it felt good—liberating and strong and a huge damned rush all at once.

  And in the midst of all those out of control raging feelings, a wild arse crazy hair of an idea popped into my head. I was so damned drunk on my own new found assertiveness and clarity, I went right with it. “If you’re so hell bent on pushing me to fight my demons, then you have to as well. You don’t get to sit back and poke and prod at me, or make me change even if it is for the better. You don’t get to sit there and not be everything you can be because of some accident that happened which you had no control over. If I have to do this, so do you!”

  I blinked my eyes a few times, stunned at what I’d just done. Had I really just lashed out at Xander like that? Where the hell had that come from? Part of me immediately regretted what I’d done and wanted to retreat. But a larger part of me knew I was right. Xander had the chance at a career and dream he’d always had, but now he was squandering his ability because of something that wasn’t his fault. It didn’t have to be this way. Sure, he was successful but I doubted it was the path he’d really wanted.

  He stood there glaring at me and I didn’t have a clue about what he was thinking. His eyes were totally black. I just knew that this was one of those massive turning points in my life and I was certain that whatever Xander decided to do would affect us both. Somehow we were drawn together, both of us kindred spirits, tied by the gaping wounds we both had. Wounds that only a fellow sufferer really understood.

  His jaw twitched and he looked like an angry bull waiting to charge. I’d caused the rage but I knew intrinsically, he wouldn’t hurt me. My words had been a catalyst for revealing the rage he’d been concealing but that rage had been festering in his soul for a very long time. I’d been the catalyst, but the rage he was feeling was far more deep-seated than a few words from me had been capable of rendering.

  “I need an hour.” He said nothing more then stalked to the door and was gone.

  I stood there shell shocked, not sure what to do. Stunned at what I’d done but surprisingly, not regretting it. Then I heard the rhythmic smacking of fists into bags and I knew exactly what Xander was doing. It was a sound I was hoping I’d hear a lot more of in the coming weeks. But only he could decide that. That was his journey and his decision to make. However, there was a very good chance my journey with Xander would end right here and now, and that would rip my heart out.

  Chapter 14

  Xander

  I took the steps two at a time, and welcomed the sensation of being out of control as I descended. Out of control…that was exactly how I felt. The rage was bubbling up and out of me. I moved straight to the heavy bag in my workout corner and started pummelling it.

  How could she? How dare she? I hit the bag over and over again, asking myself those very questions. The answer wanted to come screaming into my head, but I blocked it with my rage. Left and right I hit that bag till my arms began to burn and I could no longer maintain the speed or intensity with which I’d started.

  Then, the little voices in my head started as soon as my body could no longer keep up the intensity.

  She’s right, mate. You are a fraud. You preach a code you don’t live by. Coward, killer
! Over and over they played till I thought I’d go insane.

  Then The Cobra’s face in death came dancing through my mind, followed by Reed’s voice assuring me it was a freak accident; the Commissioner of the sport’s Governing Body giving me a slap on the back. “Tough break, Xander. Get over it and get back in the ring.”

  I saw Carrie, The Cobra’s wife, rubbing her pregnant belly beside the ring, then her face distorted in grief as she watched me slaughter her husband in front of her. It all played through my head, slicing me with its claws as it went.

  My father: “You’re a fucking pussy. Get back in the cage! Like The Cobra would give one fuck about you!”

  Flashes of faces and emotions clawed at me from the inside out.

  I couldn’t stop the pain. No matter how hard or fast I hit something.

  I couldn’t stop it or make it go away.

  My arms hung at my sides, my knuckles dripping blood. Sweat ran in rivers down my body, the waistband of my jeans soaked through, the heavy denim clung to my thighs. And my chest heaved with the effort to suck in as much air as I could.

  “Not your fault, man. Not your fault, man.” Academically I knew it was true. It was a freak accident—something that shouldn’t and didn’t happen, but none of that was ever going to change the outcome.

  Did I even want to do this again? Could I risk it?

  So many questions and no answers.

  I stumbled over to the wall and slumped against it, letting my body use it as a guide to the floor. I drew my knees up and rested my elbows on them and cradled my head in my hands.

  Then the tears came, great wracking sobs as twelve hundred and seventeen days of bottled up grief came rushing out of me, one tear at a time. The blood on my hands mixed with the tears and I could taste the salty metallic mix on my lips. The room spun through the blur of my eyes and I felt caught, trapped in a cage guarded by demons on all sides. But still the voices raged and fought inside me.