Another small wave of tears overwhelms me as I realize another thing I didn’t know I wanted. Motherhood. A family of my own. A chance to do things the right way, instead of however I was raised.
All through my workout with the men at the firehouse, the thought stays at the forefront. Every time I practice a move on the punching bag, it’s not myself I’m protecting. It’s what’s mine.
“Are you ready for some sparring?” Jerry’s been thorough and patient in his teaching, pointing out different techniques I could use depending on the situation I hope to never find myself.
“Yeah, absolutely,” I say.
“I’ll go easy,” he says.
“Please don’t. I can take a hit,” I say, and he cringes until I laugh.
“Fucking hell, Lou. That’s not funny,” he tells me, but his lips turn up.
“Too soon?”
“You’re morbid,” he says, and somewhere behind me, Grady chuckles.
“A little,” I concede, but I think I’m just healing all those soft wounds that lingered inside. I curl my fingers toward him in a taunt. “Come at me.”
Jerry rushes at me unexpectedly, and I flinch before shifting my weight and bringing my hands up. I’m too late.
“Try again,” Grady says. We do, but I’m not much better, this time. Or the next.
“You’re thinking about it,” Jerry says. “I need you to react.”
“Again,” Grady says, like he does every time we work out together. “Muscle memory, remember?”
Over and over, Jerry moves quickly toward me. He switches it up so that I never anticipate, only react. It takes…a long while. I’m sweaty and my veins are gushing with energy, but I finally get it. When he comes at me headfirst, I go for the eyes or ears. If he’s standing tall and towering over me, I aim for the groin, then the neck.
A call comes in—a frantic mother who was taking the trash to the curb when her toddler locked the door behind her. Jerry tells Grady to go so we can keep working. We’re still going when he gets back. They switch places. Grady attacks, now, and Jerry coaches me.
“You’ve gotten stronger,” Grady tells me when we finish nearly an hour later.
“I hope so,” I tell him. Truthfully, I don’t feel physically stronger. Emotionally, on the other hand, I am leaps and bounds from where I was a couple months back. “Hopefully, I never need to use any of this. I like the peace of mind, though. Maybe I’d be able to shock and awe so I can duck and run.”
“That’s the goal,” he says, placing a hand on my hip as he peers at me intently. “You never take it again.”
“Never.”
The word tastes strong and true. He pulls me closer. If I wasn’t hot from the workout, I’d be from our proximity. From the heat that sears me from the inside when he looks at me the way he is now. Like I’m precious and I matter. He doesn’t have to speak the words for me to hear them.
Grady is as hopeless in this as I am.
“Good. You fight back, you get safe, you come back to me.”
My location was leaked.
Vivian called to let me know that the story is out and she wasn’t able to convince the tabloid that bought the picture to notpublish the story. The picture is of me dancing with Grady at the bar last night.
Immediately, I knew it was the bartender.January.I’ve dealt with enough jealous women in my life; I should have trusted my judgment about her. But honestly, I would have expected this from a random tourist before someone that lives here in Stowaway. In my safe haven. My home.
It’s been twenty minutes since I ended the call with Vivian. I haven’t moved from this spot. I was washing dishes. A normal, menial task. Living in my own little world. I forgot.
It’s easy to do here; to let all the pain and guilt vanish. To move on. Here, I was starting to find a new normal. No, more than that. I was finding myself and my future. My footing has been more stable, my heart more content, my mind less frantic.
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
I should have known.
