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“Kit. Stop that now!” He steps in and shakes me so hard, my teeth rattle around together. “Shut the hell up with that bullshit.” Pulling me against his chest, he wraps his arms around me.
To keep me from running away. Or to stop me from hitting him. “You’re angry right now baby, and that’s okay. I know you’re not angry at me. I’m just the lucky fucking target right now. You know none of that’s true. You know I love you, and I know you love me. We made promises, remember? No more running. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I only meant to lighten your load. I love you, baby. We’re a team.”
His words are all truth, I know that, and I’m deeply ashamed for the things I said. I can’t stop the flood of tears spilling over, so I just step in and cling to him. Sobbing into his chest and soaking his shirt, I finally let go of the pent-up rage and anguish the last year has left me with.
Like finally untying those cement shoes, Bobby’s hug is the scissors, and my accepting his strength while I lean is me looking toward the surface. In the months since my dad died, I never stopped to cry. Not once since the day he was buried. I never had a choice, so I bottled everything up and soldiered on.
I’m crying for the injustice of having to rally and support a teenager who didn’t want help. He’s come around now, but there was a long time where I wanted to bash my head against a brick wall. I’m crying for the fru-fru dress wearing little girl who lost her daddy, but most of all, I’m crying for my dad, because he was so unbelievably scared in his final days. I wanted to take that fear away. I want to know that wherever he is now, that he’s okay. I want to know that his final breaths didn’t hurt, and that wherever he is now, that he’s finally happy.
Life was so unfair to him. From the day he was born into a shitty family, to the shitty life he was offered, to the shitty woman who trapped him into a loveless marriage, and then the shitty death he suffered long before his time should have come to end.
And then I cry, because despite his life being really fucking shitty, I still wish he was here to hug me and tell me he’s not scared. I’m selfish enough to want to bring him back and I’m ashamed of myself for wishing that pain on him all over again.
Bobby holds me tight while I break down in a public parking lot. I want to sink to the floor and weep. I want to throw myself into the hole my daddy was buried in. My strong body is weak with heartbreak and fatigue, but Bobby simply continues to hold my chest together when my heart just wants to break out and step in front of an oncoming bus.
He nuzzles my hair and rubs my back. “I’ve got you, baby. Get it out. Get the poison out.” I can’t stop crying. I can’t pull myself together, and every time I try, he tells me he loves me, and the tears spill anew. Emotions hijack my body and wring it out painfully. I don’t know how long we stand here, but it could be five hours, and he still wouldn’t let me go.
Eventually, my tears slow and my sobs turn to sniffles. My body relaxes against his chest, and taking that as his cue, Bobby moves back to catch my eye. “Hey. Are you okay?”
His kindness breaks the dam and fresh tears spill.
“No baby, don’t cry.” His thumbs come up to swipe them away. “Please, no more crying.”
“I can’t help it. They won’t stop.” I hiccup into his chest. “I’m okay, though. I’m sorry, Bobby.” I sniffle and try to regain my composure. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“I know, baby. It’s okay. You can use me for a punching bag any time.” He lowers his face to meet my gaze. “Maybe sucking my cock will make me feel better?”
“Oh God!” I laugh and cry at the same time. “You and I have serious issues with what we say to each other when we’re mad.”
“I scream at you about touching your boobs. You scream at me about sucking me off. I win both ways. Make-up sex never sounded so good.” He waggles his brows jokingly, and uses the heel of his hands to wipe away my tears. “Are you okay now, baby?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m okay. Thanks for holding me. You made it better.”
“I’ll always be here. Always.” He looks at his watch and grits his teeth. “Do you just wanna go home?”
I look at my phone and check the time. I have less than ten minutes before I’m due to fight. I groan and consider finding a really big rock to hide under.
I’d completely forgotten about the damn fight.
“We can leave, baby. It’d be totally okay. I’ll pull you from the draw and we’ll try again another time. We can be home in ten minutes, leave everyone else here. We’ll go home and eat bad food and chill. It’ll be hours before anyone notices we’re missing.”
I let out a watery laugh at his blatant lie. They’ll know we’re missing before we even reach the Rav.
I already dressed for the fight before leaving the house, and Bobby tied my wraps while I was inside making myself sick, so I’m all set to go once I grab my gloves. I take another minute to breathe and lean, then with a heavy exhale, I stand on my own two feet.
Back to normal.
“Let’s go in.”
He yanks on my hand as I move to walk away. “You still wanna fight? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, what better time than this? I’m not nervous anymore, I just let out a shit ton of emotion. I’m pretty pissed and wanna hit someone, so I can use that.” I laugh when his brows furrow.We don’t fight when we’re angry.It’ll make you sloppy. It’ll make you hurt yourself.I turn back and take his hands. “I’m fine, Bobby. I have energy I need to work out. Let’s do it.”
He waggles his brows like a dirty perv. I roll my eyes and smack his belly. “Seriously. Let’s go in. I’m gonna kick some ass. Watch me go, then later, you get to have sex with your warrior princess.”
“No, wait.” He groans and pats down his pants. “Baby, you need to be sure. I’m not letting you go in there if you aren’t thinking properly. We make smart fighters, not meatheads with haymakers.”
“I should be mad you called me a meathead.” When he opens his mouth to deny, I press my palm over his lips and smile. “I’m sure. We’ve worked hard for it, I sparred with Izzy and didn’t walk away crying – on Tuesday. That’s gotta mean something, right?” I remove my hand and replace it with my lips. “I’ve got this, I promise. What’s the worst that could happen?”
