Worth the fight - Keeland Vi - Страница 28

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Nico is sitting on a bench with his head in his hands looking down.  His posture reminds me of a child that’s getting scolded. It’s defeated and disappointed.  He doesn’t look up when I enter, but Preach quiets momentarily and turns to me.

“Maybe you can talk some sense into his thick skull.”  Preach throws the towel he was holding on the floor and stalks out of the room, slamming the door as the exclamation point to end his final departing rant.

I wait a few seconds, long seconds where I actually hear the clock on the wall ticking behind me, but Nico still doesn’t acknowledge me.  He hasn’t moved.  So I take a deep breath and walk to him, stopping in front of the bench where he sits.  I slowly reach down and put my hands on his shoulders.  I’m unsure of what to say, but I want to comfort him somehow.

Gently, I glide my fingers back and forth over his warm skin in what I hope is a soothing motion.  His shoulders untense slightly at my touch.  “Are you okay?”  My words are barely above a whisper.

Nico shakes his head.  No.

“Are you physically hurt?  Can I get you anything?”

Again, only a headshake no in response.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yet another shake of the head.

I stand there for a few more minutes, quietly, my hands on his shoulders and him with his head still bowed.  It’s the longest I’ve been near him without him touching me.  He’s right in front of me, but he’s light years away.  I want to help him so badly, need to make him feel better.  But he still hasn’t looked at me or spoken.   I kneel down in front of him and fold my hands around his clasped ones and look up at his face.  I’m so close, he can’t avoid me anymore.  He tilts his head up slightly and his eyes lift to mine.  What I find looking back at me breaks my heart into a million little pieces.  My normally strong, confident man’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and he looks…broken.  Scared.  Sad.  His face is filled with anguish as he looks at me.  He still doesn’t speak, but his eyes say it all.

I hear voices from the door and then there’s a knock before Vinny and Max enter the room.  I turn away for a split second to look at the boys and when I turn back to Nico the emotion on his face is gone.  Replaced by a stony facade that I’ve never seen before.

“Get the boys out of here.”  A stern voice I don’t expect to hear commands, taking me by surprise.  It’s cold and distant and it startles me to hear such a tone in Nico’s voice.  So much so that I look up at his face with my brow furrowed, confused,  as if the words he just spoke were foreign.  But if his intentions weren’t clear the first time he speaks, there’s no mistaking them the second.  “Go home, Elle.”

It takes me hours to fall asleep and when I finally do, I toss and turn all night restlessly.  I can’t get the look on Nico’s face, when I kneeled before him, out of my head.  It’s one I’m all too familiar with.  Sorrow.  Shame.  Self-loathing.  That moment comes back to haunt you when you least expect it.  Just when you think you’ve finally found a way to bury it somewhere deep inside yourself, it rears its ugly head and then you’re back to square one.  Back to relive the pain.  The regret.  The guilt.  And the healing has to start all over again.

Nico

I don’t even notice my knuckles bleeding until Preach’s loud voice pulls my attention from the bag.  It’s five a.m. and I’ve been at it for hours already.  No matter how hard I go at it, I can’t wear myself out enough to close my eyes and not see his face.  The face that will haunt me for the rest of my remaining days.

“You been at it all night?”  It’s the first time Preach has spoken to me since the fight.  He’s yelled and ripped into me, but nothing he’s said has required a response until now.

“Some.”

“You’re getting blood all over the bag.  Go ice ‘em.”  He doesn’t give a shit about the bag, it’s Preach’s way to tell me to ease up.

I look down at my hands and see the mess I’ve made for the first time, even though they were always in my line of sight.  There’s cuts and blood covering my knuckles and most of my fingers.  A few are swollen to twice their size and I’m pretty sure they’re broken.  But I don’t feel any pain.  I want to, but I’m numb.

I head to the gym’s small kitchen in the corner and wrap my knuckles in ice.  I don’t bother cleaning the blood off my stained hands.  Preach follows and offers me a bottle of water and three pills.

“Take em.”

I know what they are without asking.  A heavy duty sleeping pill and two pain killers.  My cocktail of choice for almost three months after my last fight.  Preach threw them all out one night, at least I thought he did, when I got myself to the point of self pity that I could no longer function without a handful.  I was popping them like a kid with a bag full of M&Ms.  When he took them away, it cost me almost ten grand.  Ten grand worth of repairs when I ripped my own gym apart in anger because the damn doctor wouldn’t write me a new script to replace what Preach took.  I’m surprised he’s even offering them to me now.

Preach pushes his hand cupping the pills further in my direction.  “God damn it Nico, take the fucking things.  You need to sleep, your body needs to rest and that stupid ass head of yours isn’t going to shut down long enough to let it.   You take em like they’re supposed to be taken, a day or two to heal, not like fucking candy.”

Hostilely, I take the pills and swallow them in one gulp and leave Preach standing there with the unopened water bottle in his hand.

Some of the regulars are starting to trickle in now and they yell their congratulations in my direction.  I don’t want to hear them, don’t deserve anyone’s well wishes.

Elle

After not hearing from Nico last night after the fight or all day today, I head to his gym after work.  He hasn’t responded to my texts and my calls go straight to voicemail.  Either he’s ignoring me or his phone is off.  All I need is to make sure he’s okay.  Worry has built inside of me all day and I find myself at almost a jog going from my car to the entrance of the gym.

The usual desk guy recognizes me and I ask if Nico is around.  My worry ratchets up a notch when he tells me he hasn’t seen him all day.  Now I’m starting to wonder if he’s lying unconscious somewhere with an undiagnosed head injury from the fight.

Preach spots me and calls my attention in his direction with a loud whistle and a shake of the head.  He’s holding the heavy bag while some guy with no neck is punching and kicking so fast, it looks like he’s having a seizure.

I make my way over to Preach and the guy without the neck stops hitting the bag and gives me a leering smile.  It’s a smile and look that makes me want to shower.  Immediately.

“That’s Nico’s girl you big moron.  He catches you looking at her like that, you’re gonna be looking for a new gym.  After you spend ten minutes looking for your teeth.”  Preach’s tone isn’t playful when he speaks.

I give a half-hearted smile to Preach.  “Have you seen Nico?  He hasn’t answered my calls all day.”

“I put him to bed this morning.”  Preach looks at me and then back to neckless.  “Make yourself invisible for ten minutes.”

Without complaint, neckless disappears.  If I wasn’t out of sorts, I’d probably find it oddly amusing, the power that Preach has over men twice his size.  “You had to put him to bed?  Is he okay?”

Preach pulls a towel from his back pocket and wipes his hands as he speaks.  “He’s got some issues, Elle, you know this already, right?”

“You mean what kept him from going back in the cage?”

“Yeah, that.   Well, I found him trying to exhaust his body into submission to get some sleep.  It’s how he deals with things.  He trains.  Hard.  Too hard sometimes.  I think he’d been at it all night.  Screwed up his hands.   They’ll heal.   But other than that, I think the worst of it’s in his head.  I can fix the body.  I can’t fix what’s in here.”  Preach’s pointer finger taps on the side of his head.

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