Jackson warily pushes open the gym door and I stop pounding the bag with a combination of gloved punches and sidekicks.
‘Everything all right?’
Hugging the bag and rolling my wet forehead across the short sleeve of my aqua Climacool top, I let him answer his own question, my mouth open only to drag air into my lungs.
It must be five-thirty. Jackson tends to come into the gym whilst Gregory goes out to road run. He fits in his own workout before he acts as Gregory’s PT.
‘Want to talk, or want to kick the shit out of that thing together?’
‘The latter,’ I say, pulling back from the bag.
‘All right, give me a right hook, left uppercut, right jab, then do the same starting on the left.’
Grunting through each move, I hit the bag six times.
‘Through it, Scarlett. Don’t hit the bag, punch through it, like I’ve told you.’
Repeating the sequence, I elongate each of my moves and feel a damn sight better for the beating I’m giving the bag as Jackson holds it from behind.
Jackson casts his attention over my shoulder and nods twice towards the door as I hammer through the next sequence, finishing with a kick that rocks him back on his feet.
‘You’re getting stronger, kid. Want a break?’
I nod but don’t move from the spot. Instead, exhausted by my workout and lack of sleep, I slump down to my bum next to the bag and drop my face into my boxing gloves, pressing tears back into my eyes. ‘I just want it all to go away, Jackson.’
Jackson being Jackson, he doesn’t say much but I know he understands exactly what I’m talking about. I wanted Gregory’s past to stop haunting him. Now it haunts me. The constant feeling of distrusting people – Trina, Stuart – unable to get past that fatal night. The worry that Katrina Martin is out there and, suspended or not, she’ll be digging.
I clear out of the gym before Gregory gets back from his run. I shower, pin up my hair and dress in record time, then head out before Gregory’s even finished his session with Jackson. I text him that I agreed to meet Amanda for breakfast before work. A lie I feel guilty about but a lie that will make him feel better than the truth. I just need to be alone. Away from the apartment where I killed a man. Where I’m scared of Amy stepping out of the damn door. Away from the bed that’s home to my nightmares. And as much as it breaks my heart to admit it to myself, away from the man who brought it all upon me.
I can’t shake this feeling that something just isn’t right but if you asked me what that thing is, I wouldn’t know.
It was my choice. All of this. That’s what I’m reminding myself as I ride a black cab to work. I could have walked away when I knew the takeover was hostile. I didn’t. I wanted to save the little boy from my dreams. Retribution for the scars on my perfect man. And eventually, revenge for the only two men I’ve ever loved.
At Blackfriars, I head for a seriously necessary hit of caffeine.
‘Now there’s a lady who looks like she needs a latte,’ the barista who thinks he’s being nice says, handing me the double-shot latte.
‘You have no idea.’ I thank him and accept a paper bag containing an almond croissant.
‘Holy hell!’ I turn smack into Gregory’s chest, still covered in a light-grey, sweat-drenched hoody.
‘Amanda stand you up?’
I don’t know what to say so I say nothing at all. Instead, I stare into the eyes I saw in my sleep and shudder.
‘Americano,’ he says across my shoulder. Then he looks back at me. ‘Sit.’
After retrieving his Americano, he pulls up a seat opposite me across a small wood table for two in the otherwise empty café. He takes my croissant from the bag and tears off a chunk for himself then pushes it on top of the bag towards me. ‘Eat.’
I tear the croissant into pieces but push them around the paper bag, preferring instead to sip my latte.
‘Scarlett, I need you to talk to me.’
‘That’s rich,’ I snipe.
‘I can see what’s happening to you and I won’t let it. I won’t let you fall into darkness. Not you. Not ever.’
‘I’m not. I just— I had a nightmare and I… I couldn’t be there any more. I needed to get out.’
