Page 27 of His Greatest Muse
Hunter is just as hard on me as my dad is, if not harder. In the past week, we’ve established a routine. I start my day with a run, either outside or on a treadmill, depending on where the bus stops come training time. Then, the real work begins at whichever gym Hunter’s booked us time in that day. Hours of bag and pad work, conditioning and bodyweight training, and sparring with a man who doesn’t hold back on me.
We take breaks every half hour, just long enough for me to gulp back water and shove my hands back into my gloves before he calls for me again. Warm-ups are long and tiresome. I think I have calluses on my palms from the handles of the jump rope he’s so fond of. I’ve never done so many squats and pull-ups. Ice baths have become a new normal for me.
There are still two weeks to go before my first fight, and I’ve already begun to see the slight changes in my body from the days before we left and the past few on the road. A giddy excitement fills me at the thought of where I’ll be after we’ve finished.
“Jab, cross, left uppercut, cross,” Hunter calls, each command growing in strength.
My exhales tumble out of me, and my inhales are shaky and weak. A throb builds in my shoulders as my arms become heavier with each punch. I’m becoming sloppy, unfocused, as fatigue builds and builds. Hunter scowls at me when my uppercut barely makes an impact with his pad.
“We’re done,” he announces once I’ve hit the final cross.
I drop my arms instantly. They go down like lead balloons.
“Sorry,” I rasp on a quick exhale. My lungs burn like a motherfucker, making it hard to suck in full breaths.
He slips off one pad and tucks it beneath his arm before patting me on the back. “You hit five hours. I pushed you hard today. Go home and eat something before you pass out.”
“I don’t want to eat another prepped meal in my life.” The thought of microwaving another Tupperware meal makes my stomach roll. There’s nothing like a bland chicken breast and broccoli mixture to make a girl want to never eat again.
Hunter makes a sound as close to a laugh as I think I’ve ever heard from him. “Get used to it. You can pig out once the season is done and your weight class doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’ve been having dreams of a giant Big Mac chasing me down the street for two days now, begging me to eat it. Even my subconscious is struggling.”
“You could always swap your chicken for salmon.”
I crinkle my nose. “I hate fish.”
“I know.”
“Thanks for the amazing suggestion, then, Hunter buddy.” With the little strength I have left, I tug off my gloves and toss them on the weight bench we used an hour ago. The relief is euphoric when I stretch out my fingers and begin to unravel my wraps.
“Anytime. Want me to fill the bath for you before I leave?”
I shiver, recalling the last ice bath I had. For a moment, I wondered if I was going to die in that tub, surrounded by pounds of melting ice in a sweaty, stinky locker room. It would have been a terrible way to go.
“Not today. I don’t think I’d even be able to crawl in.”
He nods. The keys to the gym jingle in the pocket of his shorts as he taps his foot. I narrow my eyes slightly on the jerky movement.
“Is there something else you want to say?” I ask.
Crossing his arms, he flashes me a small, tense smile of approval. “Good job today.”
I can’t help but preen under the compliment. Who wouldn’t? Hunter is a legend, and he thinks I’m doing a good job?
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
His smile morphs into a scowl. I grin back at him, enjoying seeing him have a bit of fun. I’ve always been good at bringing people out of their shells. It’s a talent of mine, I guess.
“Lock up after me again, and don’t be late back to the bus,” he grunts, and then he’s retreating through the gym at a quick pace, as if he can’t wait to be free of my presence.
“I was hardly late today! It’s not my fault my Uber driver drove ten below the limit!” I call after him, but he’s already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
With a loud laugh, I shake my head and start to pick up the things I’ve littered all over the gym. Once my arms are full of ripe gear and towels, I head to the locker room. It’s quiet in the empty gym, and to be honest, the quiet has always freaked me out a bit. Especially when I’m alone and in an unfamiliar place.
Hunter being Hunter knew the owner of this gym from his days in the ring and was able to get special privileges for us for the day. Everywhere we’ve stopped over the past three days, he’s managed to find us somewhere to train from three till eight, but today has been the only time we’ve been alone and unbothered.
The lack of curious, gawking stares was a welcome change from the last gym we were at. You’d think after years of dealing with unwanted attention from men that it would be easy for me to ignore it, but that’s not always the case.