Page 10 of A Fighting Chance
Taping my fists, I breathe deeply before letting my arm extend, my fist hitting the bag that hangs from one of the support beams. With each hit I land; I feel more of the anger and fear start to ebb away. The sound of my punches is loud in the small space. But they are also a balm to my soul.
By the time I finish an hour later, I am drenched in sweat, but I have a plan.
***
Mercedes
I cried myself to sleep last night and I haven’t done that in a very long time. The pizza I ordered is still in the box in the kitchen, uneaten.
Lying in bed I wish I could go back to sleep, but just because my heart is broken doesn’t mean that life stops. The world is still turning, the sun still rose in the east, and I need to get my ass out of bed. I lay there for five more minutes, feeling sorry for myself, before I finally drag myself out of bed.
I’m in the kitchen making coffee when I realize I’m not alone. A shriek tears from my lunges before I slap a hand over my mouth. Alistair is sitting at the little table in the breakfast nook, his gaze fixed intently on me.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says softly.
“Mission not accomplished, asshole.”
He chuckles and I glare, all while trying to get my heart rate back to something resembling normal.
“We need to talk,” Alistair says with a serious expression.
“I think you said all you needed to last night.” I turn my back on him and go back to starting the coffee machine.
“Mercedes.”
“Alistair.” I glare at him but he only smirks.
“I’m a dickhead,” he says by way of an apology. “I made last night all about me and it wasn’t.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I suppose you’re forgiven. But I don’t have time to chit-chat with you. I need to get to work.”
“The bar is closed on Sundays.”
Fuck my life!
I just need some privacy to pull myself together before facing the world. His reaction last night hurt more than I want to admit. The last guy I dated wouldn’t even fuck me after he saw my scars. That’s why I had them covered with ink. I just didn’t expect him to feel the same. They all look at me like I am broken, less of a woman, after they know the truth.
Instead of saying anything I make us both a cup of coffee before taking a seat across from him.
“You remembered,” he smiles before sipping his coffee.
I don’t say anything. How do I explain that I haven’t forgotten a single thing about him?
“Say your piece, Ali,” I say over the rim of my cup. “If I don’t need to work today, I’m going back to bed.”
“I really am sorry for the way I acted last night,” he says, his voice filled with regret.
“I’m used to it.”
His eyes flash with anger but he keeps himself in check. “I want to explain why I reacted that way. I need you to listen to everything I have to say before you react.”
I watch him carefully, not sure what exactly he could have to say. But I do know that whatever he has to say is going to change both of us forever. I can feel it in the air — his nerves.
“When we were around sixteen, I fell in love with you.” I gasp loudly but he only smiles while shaking his head. “I did everything I could think of not to feel that way about you. I tried to treat you like a little sister, I tried to avoid you. Hell, I was even an asshole although I knew I was hurting you. I just wanted us to be us again, you know?”
He waits for me to say something, anything, but I don’t have any words. My throat is dry, and I feel like I am stuck in some kind of dream.
He smiles before continuing. “Malichai didn’t break your prom dates nose, I did. And I am also the reason Tommy walks on the other side of the street any time he sees you.” He grins like a little boy. “Last night scared the shit out of me. Knowing that you could have died, that I could have lost you before I ever had the opportunity to tell you how I felt. How I feel.”