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“So why are we here then?”
“To deal with that anger tearing you apart. I told you, you need to get your head straight.”
He walks towards the cardboard box in the centre of the floor and crouches down, fishing inside. With his back to me I’m able to admire the width of his shoulders, and the dip of his waist. At some point between walking inside the Tower and turning on the light, Ford has managed to remove his jumper. I appreciate his fighter physique. It’s distracting, though not enough to shake this feeling inside. I’m not sure anything will.
“Fucking might be the answer…” I say lazily, not recognising my voice. It sounds off, distant. Harsh.
“Not tonight, tonight we fight…” he responds, standing with two pairs of boxing gloves dangling from his hands. He chucks one pair to me. I catch them.
“And we needed to come to the Tower to spar because…?”
“Because we don’t need any interruptions. I don’t need one of the guys breaking our session up because they’re trying to protect you from getting hurt.”
“And what about Frank?”
“Frank won’t come in here, and if he does, I might just knock him out.” He shrugs.
“You brought me here to hurt me?” I ask, tipping my head to the side watching him as he pulls on his gloves.
“If you pay attention. If youfocusyour mind, you’ll be fine.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, stripping off my hoody and pulling on my gloves.
“Then I guess you get hurt?”
