Maybe I’m just not enough for her.
I straighten and cough out, “There.”
I again show her how to shuffle forward and back, and side to side. She watches how I maintain even spacing with each step, staying light on my toes, never leaving my stance too open or too narrow. After a few minutes and stumbles later, Kate catches on, eyes squinting in cute concentration.
I nod approvingly. “Your rhythm’s off, but I think you’re starting to get it.”
She smiles a genuine smile. “Can I hit you now?”
I laugh at her bright eyes and shake my head. “Always so bloodthirsty.”
She laughs too, and I can’t help but lap up the sound. I haven’t felt this pathetic, thiseagerin a long while. Too desperate for love like my mom is with her trash boyfriends. While I love and admire Mom and understand all she’s been through, I’d rather eat gravel than follow in her footsteps.
“Fine,” I say, and she lights up like a Christmas tree. “I’ll go get the pads.”
Her shoulders fall. “The pads?”
I leave and return with two thick foam pads strapped to my hands. The black expanse covers the length of my forearm to my elbow, and her eyes light back up.
“I can work with that.” She cocks a fist, and I rush to shield my face.
“Gloves, Kate! Gloves!” I blurt.
She snort-laughs. “You were so scared! You should have seen the look on your face!”
I shrug. “Well, maybe my jaw hasn’t forgotten that secret right hook of yours.”
She bats her eyelashes. “Who, me?”
I smirk. “Yes. You.”
Twenty minutes later, we both shine with sweat. Kate’s a fast learner, agile too, and despite her lack of rhythm, she picks up the simple jab–hook combo I taught her with relative ease. My padded hands absorb the shock from each of her punches, and that adorable look of concentration pinches her brows.
I pause to check the time on my watch. “I think we’re about done,love.”
That nickname earns me an especially hard blow to the pad, and I laugh. She follows me to the benches, raising a forearm to wipe sweat off her face.
“Do I get to punch your face next time?” she pants.
I sit down with an easy grin. Despite our height difference, we’re almost face to face. Challenge glitters in her dark eyes, and her lips have a wicked smile.
“Already dreaming about next time, Katie?”
She scowls, and I laugh.
I tug her gloved hands, and she stumbles close enough that she’s just shy of standing between my knees. I loosen the knots on her gloves while she examines the suddenly interesting overhead rafters. Her left knee bounces in my periphery, and triumph mingles with the endorphins flooding my veins.
If she were mine right now, I’d yank her gloves and plant a kiss over that sassy mouth of hers. And like a sadistic, grief-seeking pain junkie, I can’t stop wishing she was. I’m nothing but an addict when it comes to Kate. Rational thinking flies out the window when all I can focus on is when I’ll get another dose, another hit of her attention.
I want her to turn those eyes to mine and choose me for once.
I finish picking apart the laces on her gloves, holding them while she withdraws her hands. She practically runs to where she left her duffel bag and water bottle on the floor, and I try to do what I should have done years ago.
I let her go.
twelve
PRESENT DAY
