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She froze.
My whole chest was burning now. “He blames me for everything, and it’s online. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” I started to look away.
How could I explain that, sometimes, I didn’t want to bring something up because that meant I’d have to deal with it again? I’d have to feel it again. I’d have to experience it again. How was I supposed to move forward when I was yanked back?
Again.
Again.
So many agains.
When would it end?
My bomb won.
62
SCOUT
“What’s going on with you? You’re distracted,” my uncle asked, wrapping his hands around the bag I’d been punching for the last thirty minutes. He held it in place, and I began whaling on it even harder.
We were not supposed to tire ourselves out, but I was at the end of my training for the night, so I let everything out on this bag. “I’m good,” I told him.
He knew about the email from Grandfather.
We’d talked about what I should do, which was not show up.
He knew it. I knew it. We both knew there was a shitstorm coming afterward.
I was hoping he wasn’t going to bring it up.
He stared at me, pushing the bag back my way.
I dodged it, stepping aside, and soon that was the new training exercise: me jabbing, then seeing if I could retreat fast enough for him.
He grunted. “Leg kick.”
I did a roundhouse and punched with my opposite arm.
He shook the bag, shoving it back at me.
I kept jabbing. Jab, retreat. Jab, retreat. Jab, retreat.
“You’re slow on your feet today.”
This was my first day back to a hardcore training regime, but he was right. I knew better, and I began bouncing on my toes, focusing on that as I continued jabbing. I was good with grappling, but I excelled at jabbing. I leaned on my strengths when I was tired, and my mind wasn’t thinking as fast as I needed it to in a fight.
“This anything to do with that girl I saw you driving back Sunday morning?”
I scowled at him. “No.”
“You didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.”
I frowned. “I’m fine.” I delivered a good kick, hard enough to knock him back, and I retreated before he could throw the bag at me.
He stared at me, hard.
I ignored him.
“Your shoulder’s dropping.”
I gritted my teeth. “My shoulder’s not dropping.”
“Who’s the girl?”
I jabbed again. “No one.”
“She’s not no one.”
I stopped, resting my hands on my hips. “Why do you care? You’ve never cared about anyone I fucked so long as I didn’t get anyone pregnant.”
“Because you’ve never brought a girl to the house before. She’s been there twice. I don’t want you distracted. You have a fight coming up.”
“I’m not distracted. And it’s just sex between us.”
He frowned. “That sounds logical. You’re in high school.”
“Meaning?” I hit again, throwing a kick right after. Then I changed it up and did the same with the opposite arm and leg.
“You’re in high school. Emotions are involved. Your brain’s not fully developed.”
“Jesus Christ. It’s just sex.”
“You’ve slept at her place a couple of times too,” he added. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“You’ve never given me grief about where I sleep, as long as I don’t fuck up training or school. Are you giving me a curfew now?”
I was too far gone for that. He and I were both too far gone for that.
He sighed. “You’re not far from getting signed. I don’t want you losing your focus. And . . .” He hesitated.
That made me stop altogether. My grandfather—or, no, he had a different look on his face. “You talked to my mom?”
“She called.”
I suppressed a curse. “About?”
“She doesn’t know about the email. She was calling to hear how you’re doing. I told her you’re doing well.”
Relief hit.
“What’s he going to do when I don’t show up?”
He settled back on his feet, a hand leaning on the punching bag. “He’s going to call and tell me how you not showing up is an insult to him. He’s then going to talk about what a great guy he is because he’ll get that school to agree to another interview, but he’ll say you have to fly there to them. We both know he’ll show up either before or after the interview, but we also know you won’t show up for that one either. You’re not doing what he wants you to do will enrage him. After that, he’ll either target your mother, me, or I don’t know. Eventually, he will try to find your weakness and exploit it until you agree to do what he wants.”
I wanted to end him—straight up, right then and there—because he wouldn’t stop. He’d never stop.
Unwrapping my hands, I let the tape drop to the ground. “Good to know.”
I started to head for the stretching area when my uncle’s hand came to my shoulder. “Hey.”
I stopped.
