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“Get out.” Sonia’s voice sharpened. “Now.”
“You don’t have a ride home.”
“I’ll take the train. Out!”
34
Monday
6:05 a.m.
When Brendan got to his room, he reared back and punched the wall.
Going into the bathroom, he gripped the sides of the sink and stared into the mirror.
He didn't see Ian there. He saw himself.
A man who avoided what needed to be said. A man who tried to smooth everything over, until the bottom fell out.
“That's right, Sonia,” he yelled at the mirror. “Run away. Do what you do best. You were looking for an excuse, weren't you? If it wasn't this, it would've been something else. You never would have stayed, because you're terrified of being loved.”
Numbly, he packed his bag. He checked out of the hotel and hurried to his car. There wasn’t any reason to stay. He’d said his goodbyes to everyone at the wedding the night before, telling them he needed to leave early to get back to the office.
When he’d pictured this day, it had looked completely different. A blissful ride home with Sonia, laughing and joking and kissing. A day of work that flew by, because afterwards, he’d be with her.
As he twisted his keys in the ignition, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, his knuckles still tingling from punching the wall.
A text from Ian.You okay, bro?
Diana must have told him.
Brendan tossed the phone on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later, the closest boxing gym rose in front of him as he parked his car with a jerk. He practically tore the door off its hinges on the way inside.
“Can I help—” A trainer came toward him.
“You have open gym right now?” Brendan nodded at the nearly empty room. “I need gloves.”
The guy eyed him warily. “Are you a member?”
“No. I’ll pay the drop-in fee, membership for a month, whatever. You can have all the money in my wallet. Just give me a pair of gloves.”
Now a second guy at the desk was watching him. His hand moved toward his phone.
“Please,” Brendan added, trying to summon a hint of charm.
There was some business about a guest pass, he was handed a pair of gloves, and he stumbled into the room to find the nearest punching bag.
His fists were a blur. He lost track of time, who he was, where he was. There was only the constant impact of his hands on the bag. As long as he kept it up, he didn’t have to think.
He was mad. Really fucking mad.
Back when the twins were teenagers, Ian had kept a punching bag in the basement. He’d egged Brendan on.Come on, B, box with me. Don’t you have anything you want to let out?
Nope.
Ian smirked.Some day, you’re gonna blow up. And everyone better watch their back.
