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“Come on.” I bent forward, hands clasped around my knees. “We’re not done yet.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. Get up.” I wasn’t pulling any punches as I reached down, snatched her by the wrist, and hauled her to her feet. “Try again.”
She filled her cheeks with air and blew out a weary breath, sections of damp hair falling loose from her ponytail and dangling in front of her eyes. Shoving the strands back with both hands, she shook her arms out at her sides and regrouped.
I lunged at her.
Pinned her against the cushioned wall by the wrists.
Halley struggled, ducked, tried to rotate under me.
“Elbow over my forearm,” I instructed.
“I…I can’t do it,” she croaked out, cheeks flushed bright red, arms quivering in my grasp.
“Wrong answer.” I pressed harder, and she flailed her legs on instinct. “Use your shoulders. Drive your hips. Your power lies in your upper body.”
“Reed—”
“Do you want to die today?” I shot back, holding firm. “I’m the bad guy. I’m the monster. I’m your low-life, son-of-a-bitch father here to finish what he started. Try. Fucking. Hard?—”
Halley growled, the sound rumbling up her chest, into her throat, and hitting the air like a thunderous battle cry. In a burst of movement, she drove her hips and shoulders toward the inside and pried out of my grip, rotating quickly and escaping my hold.
A round of slow clapping echoed from behind us as I bit back a smile and Halley collapsed to her butt, exhausted.
Scotty stood and approached us, still clapping. “Nice job.”
She drooped forward, forehead colliding with the mat as she panted through the quick-dying adrenaline.
I crouched down in front of her. “You did good.”
Halley popped her head up, her gaze traveling to my face. “You’re ruthless.”
“You’re capable.”
Scotty sidled up beside me, taking a swig from his water bottle and handing Halley a fresh one. She nodded her thanks and accepted it, unscrewing the cap.
“Scotty’s up next. Want to stick around and watch our session?” I loosely splayed my hands on my hips.
She sat up straight and gulped down the water, extending her legs out in front of her. “I’ll stay. Thanks.”
Her bronzed skin shimmered under the fluorescent lighting, and a white tank top stuck to her curves, drenched with the evidence of her hard work. She was strong, but she was nowhere near where I wanted her to be. Her sword was drawn, yet it consistently faltered in her hand.
We were two months into our weekly sessions, and while Halley was committed and determined, her self-confidence hadn’t caught up to her fighting spirit. It was a flame vulnerable to the winds of her past. She doubted herself. Second-guessed her potential.
But I didn’t.
I held out my hand to help her up, and she took it, curling her fingers around my larger palm and snapping to her feet. The zing of heat that flickered up my arm and bombed my chest was obnoxious, at best; I refused to acknowledge how it would feel at its worst.
Halley smoothed back the sweat-slick baby hairs framing her forehead, then exhaled a worn breath before trudging over to her duffel bag. I watched her go, wondering why she wasn’t more excited, more proud of her win today. There was no bounce in her step, no confidence lifting her slumped shoulders.
“You okay?” I called out to her while Scotty did some stretches beside me on the mat.
“Yep,” was all she said, her back to me.
Nodding through a sigh, I switched gears fast, putting my game face back on and whipping Scotty into shape with some new defensive moves. The hour rolled by as Halley watched us train, sitting cross-legged against the wall with piles of homework in her lap.