I sit up slowly, careful with my abdomen and careful with the way my ribs pull if I breathe too deep. The sheet slips off my shoulder. The air is cold enough to tighten my skin. I grab his shirt from the floor and pull it on. It smells like him. Cedar, smoke, and something that belongs only to Seth.
When I stand, the room tilts for a second. The dizziness comes and goes. It is worse when I have not eaten enough. It is worse when I pretend my body is not still catching up to what it lost.
I slip out of bed and move into the hallway without turning on the light. My bare feet barely make a sound against the floor.
A thin strip of light stretches across the floor from the training room.
The door is cracked just enough for me to see inside.
Seth stands in the center of the room with his back to the door, his fists slamming into the heavy bag over and over. The chain rattles with every strike. The bag swings hard and snaps back toward him, and he drives his knuckles into it again before it can settle.
He is not wearing wraps or gloves.
Blood streaks across the leather where his knuckles have split open. His hands look raw, swollen, smeared red from hitting the bag too many times.
Beau stands off to the side with his arms crossed, watching him.
“You planning to stop before you break something, or is that the goal?”
Seth exhales. It's not quite a laugh. “Haven’t decided yet.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” Seth says. “Say it.”
Beau takes a beat, studying him.
“I came to make sure you don’t screw this up.”
Seth hits the bag again. The chain rattles loudly above them.
“Screw what up?”
“Her,” Beau replies. “You’re letting her die.”
Seth’s fist stops mid swing.
“She’s alive,” he says finally.
“That is the bare minimum,” Beau shakes his head. “Don’t act like survival is the same as living.”
Seth rubs his hand over his mouth, his jaw tight.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wake up replaying every choice that led to this.”
Beau’s voice lowers.
“I know you do. And I also know this part.”
Seth goes still.
“I understand this better than anyone,” Beau continues. “I know what it’s like to lose the woman you love.”
Seth’s breathing changes.
“This isn’t about guilt,” Beau adds. “This is about what you do next.”
Seth slams his fist into the bag again.
