Page 92 of That Last Secret

“Do you have a key for twenty-four-hour access or something?” I ask jokingly.

“Tonight I do.”

My steps falter, but I keep up with him until we reach the gym. It’s pitch-black inside. Logan pulls a key from his pocket to unlock the door. Once he does, he places a hand on my lower back to guide me inside, and just the small touch makes me want him to keep his hands on me.

He locks the door behind us before walking through the dark building, bringing me into the back where the box—

“No,” I tell him when I realize what he’s got planned. “I told you I can’t box.”

Logan smiles. “I know the owner, and he owes me a favor. So tonight, you’re boxing with me. I know you said it made you nervous, but it’s just me here. No cameras either.” He flips the light switch in the private room, and a soft yellow glow illuminates the room.

It’s intimidating being here, but knowing that it’s just Logan makes me less nervous about this.

“Listen,” he says, moving his body so he’s standing directly in front of me. His hands land on my shoulders as he leans down to look at me. “I know you’ve never done this before and that’s okay.” Logan releases his hold on my shoulders and walks into the open room. “Silas introduced me to this place after we had a bad night at work. This is where we come to release everything we’re holding in. Most of the time, we don’t say a word to each other, but we both know that it’s us letting everything we’refeeling out of our bodies the only way we know how. There’s just something so…”

“Therapeutic,” I answer for him.

Logan turns to face me, standing in the middle of the ring. “Yes. I thought that maybe this might be something you can do, too. If you don’t love it, we never have to do it again, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I thought about you the last few times I came here with Silas.”

“Me?”

He nods. “You drive me insane. In a way I never saw coming, and it frustrated me to no end.”

I spent so long truly believing that Logan couldn’t stand me, and here he is, standing in front of me again and asking me to let him in.

“I told you I didn’t want you to keep doing this alone, and I meant every word,” he continues.

I nod quickly in response because I want to let him in completely.

So I step into the ring to join him. “Tell me what to do.”

Logan smiles, and everything in my body lights up as I watch him pick up two large red gloves. He slowly walks toward me before lifting my hands and putting them on for me. They feel heavy at first, but once he straps them around my wrist, I adjust to them and immediately feel a strength wash over me that I didn’t know I had.

Logan dons two gloves himself, but his are flat, unlike mine. Then, he takes his place in front of me and holds both of his hands up. “You’re going to aim for these when you throw your punches.”

I nod and throw my first one. “Like that?” I ask, unsure if I did it right.

He smirks over at me and tilts his head. “Come on, Emmy. I know you have some power in you. Show me.”

I inhale and exhale a deep breath, and this time, I punch a little harder.

“That’s it, Emmy. Keep going,” Logan says, maintaining his position in front of me.

He’s trying to get a rise out of me, using that nickname repeatedly to make me punch harder. This time, I try throwing two punches back to back. When the second punch connects with his mitt, something I’ve never felt before surges through me. A feeling I can’t quite describe with words.

Then, I keep going, and like Logan told me, I feel like I’m releasing everything I’ve been holding back.

I’ve fought for so long to make everyone proud of me.

Being the youngest andonlysister, I’ve fought hard to live up to the expectations I felt I needed to rise to. Not a soul told me I had to be great, but my brothers are. It only felt right that I tried to fit the mold of the Ford family.

But I kept getting this overwhelming feeling that I’ll never be good enough.

And no matter what my brothers told me, I always felt like I’d never make them proud enough.

That’s when the panic sets in, and I question if they say those things because they have to, because I’m their baby sister and it’s their job, or because they actually mean it.

Couple that with the anxiety about whether I’ll be a good nurse or not. This profession is challenging, and I always wonder if I can handle it. Am I smart enough to care for patients in the real world?