AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I need to tell him. But I don’t want the truth about what happened to be the reason we get back together. I want to tell him when we’ve mended our relationship to the point I feel I can open up. I don’t want his pity or his guilt to be the reason he forgives me. It’s a battle I fight daily. But he needs to hear it. He needs to know why I left. And it kills me that it may be the only way he lets me back in. And if so, will his perception of me change?
It’s a risk I’m going to have to take. There’s too much space, far too much space.
Heavy bass rings out through the pasture as I make my way from the house toward the barn. I can feel the weight in the air as screeching guitar riffs draw me in. I know what’s just behind the door, but the sight of it is just as paralyzing when I open it, and Lance comes into view. Tool’s “Sober” rings out as Lance’s powerful fist connects with the bag. It draws me back to our beginning. He’s no longer caged, the barbed wire at his biceps flexing with every powerful throw of his arms. He’s liberated himself. The side of him he used to hide from me has taken front and center.
He’s always prided himself on keeping his demons, his anger on a leash, but it seems like in the last few months, they’ve swallowed him whole. For the past day, I’ve watched him closely and weighed his words carefully. The thing about knowing someone so intimately and having them pull away is this, you have the power of perception few others will ever have. And with this knowledge, with every move he makes, I know this isn’t the same version of the man I fell in love with two years or even two months ago, but his mirror. He’s now living the perception of his reflection.
He’s giving up the fight and letting it consume him, and we’re all in the path of his implosion.
It’s not going to go away overnight. This is depression. He’s barely living. Mechanical. Easy to anger and quick to blow up. There’s no solution. He might be living in his reality, but he’s also drowning in it and has been for way too long. When I arrived in Texas, I thought the hard part of the battle would be convincing him I’m sincere, and it has been, but the real battle will be to show him his mirror.
I can’t confess anything when he’s in this state.
A full minute into the song and he’s not winded in the least, his combos coming out at a machine gun pace. Body, body, uppercut. He’s hungrier than he was when we met, more jaded, less willing to believe in the dream, in any dream.
Strong torso twisting with each step as he charges forward, his speed increases with the weight of his throws. Covered in a sheen of sweat, his body glistens like he’s covered in kerosene as he catches fire. His bruises and scars just as visible to me as the first time I saw him, but they’ve multiplied.
The words of the song bleed in my ears and trickle down to fester in my chest as the bag jerks on the chain like a piñata. I’m certain he’s never hit this hard in his career, in his life.
This is thunder, a warning.
“Jesus Christ,” Tony mutters, appearing next to me at the door just as the song peaks and Lance cracks through the leather of the bag. It’s then I see it, the awe and fear on Tony’s face. Neither of us has ever met this side of Lance. Just as I’m about to speak up, Lance knocks the bag off the hook, and it lands with a thud clouding up the dust on the floor of the barn.
Harper
The crunch of gravel announces a new arrival as a Ford pickup pulls up next to the barn. A guy who looks around Lance’s age and build jumps out. I’m in a folding lawn chair next to the ring and am the first to greet him.
“Hello.”
“Hey there,” he says with a smile, heading towards Tony. Lance barely glances up before resuming his strikes on the bag.
“Hey, man,” Tony greets as the guy nods toward Lance.
“That him?”
“Yeah.”
“This should be fun.” The guy smiles, and it’s then I realize just how good-looking he is. He pulls off a ball cap, revealing light blond hair and tugs off his hoodie, uncovering his ripped form. He’s so hot, a nervous laugh erupts from me. All eyes shoot in my direction, including those of my ex-boyfriend.
“Sorry,” I lift my phone. “René…” I trail off. Lance isn’t buying it, and a grinning Tony isn’t either. Rip makes the introductions. “Lance, this is Nick Regis—your sparring partner today.”
Lance nods, slapping the side of the bag with his fist and making it jump. “‘Sup. Thanks for coming out.”
Rip starts taping Nick’s hands as my eyes dart between the two. “No problem. Heard you’re coming up quick.”
“Working on it,” Lance grunts out, tapping the bag twice more.
“Might want to save some of that for me.”
I can’t help my wicked mouth. “Oh, he’s got stamina.”
Lance bites his lips to hide a smile. I consider it a small miracle. We haven’t spoken in a day, and though still aloof, we’ve worked alongside each other in a sort of silent truce, neither of us willing to give in. I’m still working out a way to bridge the gap since he’s become untouchable.
“I didn’t mean that as a compliment,” I say dryly, turning to Nick. “He’s full of hot air.”
Lance rolls his eyes. “Ready when you are.”
Trevor pulls up a few minutes later in his Dad’s beat-up truck, hauling ass to Lance’s corner. “Damn, I would have been pissed to miss this.” He glances over at me and blows me a kiss. “Lady love.”
