He smiled gently as he watched me, and then glanced around the empty space. “Everyone down here has earned themselves a nickname... I was thinking you should have one, seeing as you’re practically part of the family now. How does Wallflower sound? Quiet. Delicate but capable...” He brought his brown eyes back to me. Any happiness in them disappeared. “Completely unassuming.”
My heart rate spiked and the hair on my nape rose. He knew something.
He smiled but it didn’t meet his eyes like it usually did. “What do you think?”
My throat bobbed. “It’s a lovely nickname.”
“Good, good... I shall see you around, Wallflower.” He gently squeezed my shoulder again before moving towards the back stairs, relying on his cane as he went.
I froze in place, overthinking the possibility that Antonio knew what my father was — what half of my family was. When the back door swung shut with a click, I finally blinked.
It was only a nickname, I thought as I tried to rationalize. Surely not everything Antonio said and did had a double meaning.
I took a shuddering breath and grabbed my things to go. Like most nights when I moved away from the cabinet, I kept a sharp eye on every corner of the basement, with my house keys tucked between my fingers. It was a little pathetic really. I wasn’t even sure I could throw a punch let alone gouge someone with a key. My fight-or-flight response wasn’t exactly formidable. The former was non-existent and the latter only worked if I had time to run. Otherwise, I froze.
I glanced over to the faded red punching bag on the far side of the room, slowing my steps as I double-checked there was no one else around.
It was the only time I would get the chance to test my punching skills if I didn’t want anyone witnessing how bad they were. And why not have a go? At least I could get a better indication of how I would fair hitting someone.
Hastily, I crossed the room and placed my bag on the floor beside the punching bag as I eyed its cracked, leather exterior. The bag looked ancient. It smelled ancient.
I squared my shoulders, planted my feet, and brought my fists up to my chest. Making sure my thumbs weren’t tucked in before I sucked in a quick breath and hit the center of the bag. And instantly regretted it as pain spread through my hand and wrist.
“Fuuucking hell,” I hissed, shaking away the throbbing pain in my slowly reddening knuckles.
“You okay?”
I screamed and spun on the spot, striking out quickly at the man standing behind me. The slap from the back of my hand meeting his cheek, accompanied by the sound I made, echoed through the basement before I gasped and covered my mouth in shock.
Dean blinked. Stunned into silence while a faint red mark appeared on his left cheekbone. His black hair was still a little damp with sweat and there was a small cut on his bottom lip from this evening’s fight. I’m sure the last thing he wanted was to have been smacked in the face again.
My words were muffled into the palms of my hands as I watched him with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He flexed his jaw and rubbed at his cheekbone. “All good... Nice reflexes.”
I dropped my hands, wincing slightly as I looked at the mark. “I didn’t think anyone was here. I thought you left.”
“I forgot my hoodie,” he said, lifting the black hoodie in his hand.
“Oh...” I chewed the inside of my cheek and considered now was as good as any to talk. “About last Monday at the garage. What I said seemed to upset you and I wanted to apologize. Again."
He clenched his jaw though he seemed less tense than last Monday. “You didn’t upset me.”
I frowned slightly. “I didn’t?”
He released a heavy sigh through his nose and shrugged. A lightness slowly returned to his eyes. “It was Seb who blabbed. Blame him.”
That hadn’t exactly assured me everything was okay. There was still something he wasn’t saying.
“I’m fine, Lily,” he said, half smiling before he gestured to his cheek. “Kinda.”
I smiled a little but still couldn’t shake the subtle guilt.
Dean considered me for a second, looked at the punching bag and the pathetic wrinkle in its side, and then jerked his chin at my hands. “Can I show you somethin’?”
I looked down at them quizzically, turning them over. “I guess so?”
That smile was back again. The kind that made his eyes shine and cheek dimple before he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. Stepping away for a moment to put down his backpack and hoodie, he approached the punching bag, standing much taller than it compared to me.
