“Dating the wrong people?” He starts to shuffle on his feet a little, forcing me to move with him if I want my punches to connect.
“Am I that obvious?”
He shrugs, and when my next punch lands, he gives me a bit of resistance, which I take as a good sign, even though my arms already feel like spaghetti without his pushing back.
“I have been known to focus more on being in a relationship rather than who I’m in the relationship with.”
“Who left, your mom or your dad?”
I risk pausing again, letting my hands fall to my knees while I catch my breath.
Duke gives me all of ten seconds before he nudges me back into formation.
I wait for him to repeat his question, but he just lets me punch his padded hands.
“I never knew my dad. My mom was there, but not really. Being maternal isn’t exactly her thing.” I’m thankful that the boxing is leaving me winded, covering how I have to force the words out. Even though I’ve mostly come to terms with my relationship with my parents, it still sucks.
“So you had two shitty parents?” he asks, as if he’s inquiring about the weather.
“Yup.” And all of a sudden, something that I’ve acceptedfor over a decade makes me angry. Impossibly angry. Which is convenient, since I currently face a large man permitting me to punch him.
“Does that make you mad?”
“Of course it does.” Jab, jab, uppercut.
“What else makes you mad?”
“People who don’t understand that they’re not wanted.”
He raises an eyebrow and dances around a bit, forcing me to follow. “Is this person hurting you in some way?”
“How do you know it’s one specific person?”
He pauses long enough to give me a look.
I punch him again. “Fine. No, he’s not hurting me. Not physically anyway.”
“Then why are you letting him affect you?”
I don’t answer for a second, focusing on aiming my punches at the center of his gloves, picturing Seth’s face right there on the vinyl.
“Why are you holding on to your anger?” Duke swipes his pad, aiming for my head.
I instinctively duck and come up swinging, connecting with his pad with a forceful jab. “I... I don’t know.”
He cracks a smile for the first time, distracting me so he can take another swing. “Tell me all the things you want to say to him.”
I just barely manage to get out of the way of his pad, stumbling back a few steps in the process. “What?”
“You heard me. Pretend I’m him. Role-play, or whatever the shrinks like to call it.”
My eyes narrow as I think about all the things I want tosay to Seth. All the things I’ve been holding in for the past twelve years. Things that I shouldn’t—couldn’t—say to his face. I throw a punch. “I hate you for making me fall in love with you.” I hit Duke’s pads again, channeling the anger into my fists. “I can’t believe you let your pride get in the way of our plans.” A one-two combo flies at him. “That’s for breaking my heart. Twice.” Duke’s face blurs, replaced by a more familiar one with bright-blue eyes. “That’s for coming to LA and for infiltrating my happy place and for trying to steal my job.” I pause for just long enough to catch my breath so I can punch with the full strength of both my body and my heart. “That’s for taking away the only home I’ve ever known. And that’s for humiliating me. And leaving me. And rejecting me. And breaking me.” My hands fall to my knees as I struggle to force air into my lungs.
Duke gives me a not-so-gentle thwap on the back. “Feel better?”
I nod, my neck the only muscle not limp as a noodle. I let myself really think about the question. “Yeah. Actually, I do.”
“Good. Don’t hold on to that shit. It only hurts you, not him.” Another thwap and he trots away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll see you next week.”
