“Yeah, thanks.” I folded my arms over themselves, the earlier desire falling away to fear as goosebumps rose. Looking around, I tried to keep the panic growing at bay, but it opened the door for the memories I tried so hard to suppress to enter.
“You’ll never be a mom.”
“You can’t possibly know anything about children if you’ve never had kids.”
“If you’re unable to even give me a child, what are you good for? Nothing. You’re worthless.”
The lies kept trying to slither their way into my mind, and I kept kicking them away. But each kick felt heavier and slower than the one before. The abduction and the realization about the men I was dating began to weigh me down, too. The fear from today, the grief I’d experienced, and now panic had me running around in a circle of chaos.
A hand turned my chin, the reassuring touch soothing me amongst the awful things swirling in my head.
“If I said something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I just wanted you to know how amazing of a job you’re doing with Jude. You’re changing his life, and you make it look easy.”
Shaking my head, I said the truth that had been buried. “He makes it easy, and we’re changing each other. We’re misfit penguins, after all.”
“What does one have to do in order to join this club?”
Looking up, I found only acceptance, reassurance, and support in his eyes. “Well, I guess the first thing is to be a misfit. I’m not sure you fit that, Mr. Perfect.”
“Oh, Lo, I think you’re the only one who sees me that way, and I love you for it. But I’m far from perfect. I know I stepped in something here, and I guess this isn’t the right place to have a serious conversation, but I’m sorry for whatever I said that made you feel like you had to protect yourself around me.”
“It’s just, I guess there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other. It’s exciting but also scary. It’s hard to remember that when it feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”
“I feel the same. And each day I get to learn something new, I fall for you even more. So, can you tell me what it was so I don’t repeat it? I never want to hurt you or feel that wall between us again if I can avoid it.”
Biting my lip, I debated. He deserved to know, but was this the best way to share it? “I uh, well, you see, um.” My awkward rambling was cut off when the announcer came on and introduced the fighters.
“In the right corner, we have Crash, weighing in at 188 lbs with a 6-0 win record. This is his first fight in this weight class.”
Wells walked out, a stern look on his face. When he caught sight of us at the end, he relaxed a little but kept his gaze forward until he got to the line. He stopped, waiting for the announcer to introduce his opponent. I watched, cataloging everything I could, looking for any detail that he wasn’t ready for this. He stared ahead, focused and determined. His posture was relaxed, only a slight bounce in his step, which I could only assume was to keep his muscles warm, something from our training peeking through.
“In the left corner, we have Berserker, weighing in at 195 lbs with a 10-2 win record.”
“He looks confident,” I whispered to Monroe, drowning out the announcer. He nodded, not wanting to pull Wells’ focus either, and we waited to see what would happen next. Once both contestants were in position, the emcee motioned for them to enter the ring. This wasn’t like the one from the last place. It was an actual octagon ring, mat, and all. I tried to convince myself that meant it would give better protection to Wells, protecting him from injuries, but it fell flat, even my subconscious not believing the lie.
I glanced around, hoping Sax would be back, but he was nowhere to be found. When the bell rang for the fight to start, I jumped, the noise, once again, surprising me. Berserker surged forward, and I gripped Monroe's arm tighter. I knew Wells was a formidable opponent, but caring for him now meant I was scared for him.
The first punch missed, but the second one landed, and I cringed as the sound of skin slapping skin sounded out around us. This close, I could hear each excruciating blow and watch as the blood and spit flew from the force. The crowd around me hollered and screamed for more, encouraging each fighter to hit harder.
“I’d thought I’d enjoy this more than I do,” I admitted to Monroe. Looking up, I watched as he tracked each move, grimacing when a brutal blow landed.
“Yeah, it’s always difficult watching him fight. Don’t get me wrong, it's hot when I’m not worried, but something about this guy doesn’t leave me with positive vibes.”
“I know what you mean.”
When the guy had taken off his outlandish robe, I blinked, convinced they’d called the wrong opponent. I didn’t know much about weight classes, but the weight they’d read off earlier didn’t seem to match the man in front of me. Wells kept ducking and weaving his hits, sneaking them in when he could. The bell rang for the first round, and I sagged in relief. Wells walked over to a corner, a staff person handing him some water to rinse his mouth. I watched as he swished it, spitting it into a bucket before he put his mouthpiece back in.
“Um, should there have been blood?”
“Yeah, it’s not uncommon, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. The cut on his brow looks bad, too.” The med guy wiped it, dabbing something on it. The whole time, Wells kept his gaze focused, not looking over at us. I watched as he controlled his breathing, slowing it down, and I wanted to kiss the man for keeping his head straight.
When the bell sounded, I wasn’t ready for it to start. They traded blows evenly for the next two rounds, both sides getting in a few good hits. Wells was beginning to tire, his arms slowing as he swung them. By the end of the 3rd round, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“How many rounds do they go?”
“They go 5 unless there’s a KO.”
“And we’re on which round?”