Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“I think…” He stands up, turns to me, and raises his hands. “I want to go again, Dad, but don’t hold back this time.”
I shake my head. “I’d kill you if I didn’t hold back. You’re not trained to defend yourself properly yet.”
He slips his mouthguard into his mouth. “How hard were you going before?”
“Maybe ten percent.”
Ryan flinches. “Really?”
I nod. “It’s a skill, Ryan. I’ve been training for twenty-eight years.”
“Go fifteen percent this time.” He looks at me with glistening eyes, and I hope he’s thinking about everything he said to Molly. Maybe this is his way of punishing himself. “I can take it. I’ll try the parry and slip you taught me. I can be better, Dad.”
It’s taken a lot to wake him up, but at least he’s trying now. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about Molly, which is good. I shouldn’t—don’t—want to talk about her, either.
“If you’re sure,” I say.
“I am.” He raises his gloves, sweat streaking down his face. “Let’s do it.”
I turn to set the timer, looking out the window again at the man and his woman. They’re holding hands, standing at the edge of the pond. Maybe some people think age gaps are gross, but they don’t look gross. They don’t look weird and wrong. They look happy, but I’m sure his son, if he has one, was never in a relationship with his woman. That’s the difference. That’s why this will never work.
The timer sounds. I raise my hands. “Let’s work.”
Ryan weaves to the side. I time a jab and catch him stiffly in the chin. He nods eagerly, wildly, and I’m sure of it now. He won’t talk about it yet, but he wants to suffer for the hurt he inflicted on Molly. He wants to taste just a bit of that pain for himself.
Maybe one day, I’ll sit him down and tell him what Molly said. I’ll force him to admit he was in the wrong. If I brought it up now, with the taste of Molly’s lips still so fresh in my memory, with the feel of her body, with the hope I had at the beginning of the date, I’d be going much harder than fifteen percent. I have to wait until I forget her. Goddamn, that’s funny.
Forget Molly? That’s never going to—
Ryan sticks me with a clean right, snapping my head back a little.
Then he raises his hands. “Oh, sorry, Dad.”
I laugh gruffly, circling him. “Don’t apologize. That’s the point, but for that, we’re on sixteen percent now.”
He laughs, eyes bright, reminding me of the little boy he was. Maybe we can make up for lost time and heal the wounds of the past. Just as long as I can let Molly go.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Molly
“Somebody’s following me,” I tell Rachael over the phone as I head toward the shopping mall.
“Wait… what?” Rachael says, her voice tight. “Do you think it’s them?”
She doesn’t have to explain what she means by them. Since the stuff in the bar, I’ve been waiting for those criminals to return. “I’m not sure,” I reply. “I noticed it when I was in the library. The same black car parks outside. Then, when I leave, the car leaves. It’s hard to keep track of it now. I’m going to try to lose them in the mall.”
Rachael doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Ever since I told her about my instant desire for Duke, she’s looked at me differently. Like I’m unhinged, and maybe I am.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I almost snap at her, but that’s not saying anything new. I’m always on the edge of snapping these days. “Yes,” I say. “I… I think so, at least. Listen, I have to go.”
“If you think somebody’s following—”
I hang up. It’s a shitty thing to do to a friend, but I can’t take that tone anymore. I can’t take anything lately. Even sitting in class feels muted, as if all the life and excitement has been sucked out of my day-to-day existence. The melodrama hurts and makes me feel small, but I can’t help it. Or maybe I could if I really tried, but this is my pathetic lifeline to Duke, my way of staying close to him.
I walk into a clothing store, pretending to browse the aisles, and then I spot him, a man in a black suit, dark hair slicked back and shiny. I saw him two days ago at the convenience store. He was pretending to look at the booze. I remember noticing how shiny his hair was. I’m sure of it. As soon as I left, so did he.
Hurrying past the aisles of clothes, I go to the changing rooms and find a stall. Panic is trying to wrap around my throat, tightening like a snake intent on the kill.
I take out my phone, not letting myself think about what I’m doing. Doesn’t Duke need to know if those men are following me? I doubt they will do anything to me here in public. Or maybe they will. Maybe they don’t give a damn.