He motioned with his head and stepped aside, allowing my father and I to enter. I was hit by the humidity in the room—not from the summer weather outside, but from the many bodies in motion around the room. Before my eyes was a large room that had been converted into a boxing gym. At the center stood a large ring where two guys were circling one another. To the far right hung a row of heavy bags, three that were in use at the moment. Behind the ring was another row of speed bags, two of which were being used. Opposite the heavy bags, to the far left, were two makeshift fighting squares where two men were locked in some sort of ground battle. An older man stood over them, yelling directions.
“A boxing gym? Fucking seriously?” I turned to my father with a scowl on my face. The hell was he doing bringing me here?
Both Connor and my father shared a look. I narrowed my eyes, not liking the feeling of being left out.
“This,” my father finally began, “is your new training spot.”
My head shot backwards. “Come again.”
“You’ll be training here.”
“Training for what?” I glanced around skeptically.
“Life,” my father stated.
“What?” I glared at him as if he’d lost his damned mind. Because obviously he had.
“Listen,” he began, grasping me by the shoulders tightly, “you need to learn how to channel that anger and grief because it’s eating you up. I know losing Chelsea has been rough. Obviously, Kayla leaving was another hard blow. This place,” he nodded to the surrounding gym, “is where you will go to let all of that shit out. No more bar fights or threatening to beat up your friend’s father.”
I should’ve been ashamed for that last part. Threatening Mr. Reyes was never my intention but he’d gotten in my way.
“Aaron takes his aggression out at work, Carter has the military, Ty has football, and now you have fighting.” He loosened his grip and took a step back.
Connor, who’d been watching us quietly, stepped forward. I noticed a pair of lightweight boxing gloves in his hand. “Let’s see what you got,” he said as if he didn’t expect much from me, tossing the gloves in my face.
I caught them easily, never taking my eyes off of him. I felt my lips turn up into a snarl. I didn’t like the appraising look he was giving me.
“What the fuck!” I yelled and ducked, just narrowly missing Connor’s massive fist. I barely had time to recover from the first swing, when I was ducking and swerving again, dodging the second one.
“He’s quick,” Connor tossed over my shoulder to my father.
“I told you.”
“Ah, shit!” Connor growled when one of my fists landed in his stomach.
I felt the bruising of my knuckles against the muscles of his abdomen, but much more satisfying was the thrill of landing a solid punch. I went to swing again, but my arm was caught in a vice grip.
“Not so fast, Townsend. You’ve got a lot to learn before you can take on the head guy.”
I turned, coming face-to-face with the older man who’d been yelling at the two grappling men at the other end of the gym. He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, but the strength in which he held my arm spoke to just how seasoned he was to be in a place like this.
“Don’t touch me,” I seethed through clenched teeth.
He nodded his head, and took a step back before releasing me. “Your father was right. You’ve got a lot to learn.” He turned to my father and nodded. “We’ll keep him.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
I glanced at my father in confusion, but didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to beg for him to stay like I was a scared little boy. Instead, I moved toward the center ring. The two men who were in there when I first entered had vacated it, leaving it empty.
“Ah, no. Not on your first day,” the older man stated from behind me.
“Take him to the bag, Buddy.”
“I don’t take orders from you, O’Brien,” he growled. “Let’s go, kid. The heavy bag is your first stop.”
I lifted a brow.
“You need to learn how to throw a proper punch.”
