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My forearms ache. I want my hands up in front of my face. Admitting this to Bristol feels like going into the ring blindfolded. Like knowing that the human body has too many soft, vulnerable pieces to defend all at once.
“There are some warehouses down by the city docks that host fight nights.”
A wrinkle appears in her brow. “Like wrestling?”
“Like boxing. Most of the events are… structured. I go on the nights that anyone can get into the ring. There aren’t nearly as many rules.”
Bristol’s eyes flicker over the bruises on my face. Over the expensive shirt that hides even uglier marks. I know what she’s seeing. I know it doesn’t make any sense.
Her eyes meet mine again. “How did you get into that?”
“I joined a frat when I was in college. That was when I learned about the warehouses. We’d go as spectators, drinking and betting and generally being menaces to society.”
That beer-soaked crowd of memories is like an arm banded across my chest. I’ll never tell Bristol, never tellanyone,that I joined that goddamn fraternity because I was desperate for normalcy.
Even the pretend version.
Sure, I have my brothers. But I wanted friends who didn’t know the first thing about being locked in a closet. Who’d never choked on fear at the sound of footsteps. Who never had to watch their next-oldest brother allow himself to be tortured into a lifetime of panic attacks if it meant keeping the youngest one safe.
They broke themselves for me, and I’ve never been able to forgive myself. Because all that suffering was for nothing. I learned how to be tough. I learned how to survive. And I became a monster despite their best efforts.
They know it.
I know it.
And deep down, they’ll never forgive me for it, either.
I clear my throat. “After graduation, a bunch of the guys stayed in the city. Got into finance. We still went to the warehouse to bet on the matches. One night I put my name in and climbed into the ring.”
Bristol inhales. “Did you win?”
“No. The other guy beat the hell out of me.”
“Like this?”
Nothing like this. That night didn’t make the top five worst beatings of my life. It felt familiar, actually.
Felt like home.
“I didn’t go down easy, if that’s what you’re asking. After I climbed out of the ring, a guy named Eddie approached me. An underground trainer. He said I had talent.” My laugh takes me by surprise. The sound throbs in my temples. I didn’t have talent. I had experience. But I don’t say that to Bristol, either. “Then he said that if I didn’t want to get killed, I needed practice.”
Bristol swallows. “Did you take him up on it?”
I give her the same cocky showman smile I use in the ring. “Of course I did. I never stopped going back. And now I’m one of the best.”
“But you’re all beat up, Mr. Leblanc.”
“Will.” I know I’m crossing a line. I don’t care.
Her breath catches. “You gotreallyhurt, Will.”
“That’s the point.”
Bristol’s mouth drops open. She’s absolutely gorgeous, even when she’s horrified. “Why?”
“Because it feels right.”
“To get hit? To getpunched?”
