“He might never let you borrow his jet again.”
I snort. “Please, he’d do anything for Tera—married or not. He’s half in love with her. If she gave him the time of day, he’d drop everything to woo her.”
“Woo,” Coach chuckles.
“I’d love to get my hands on the Reaper.”
“Cocky little prick. He’s shady,” Coach announces.
“Who you tellin’? Remember Memphis? No Holds Barred. Fucker brought in those brass knuckles and still couldn’t beat me. Gave me a couple broken ribs, though.”
“You paid him back and then some. Concussion and broken nose. Yeah, I’d say you whipped his ass.”
I grunt, then stop and grab my water. I’m a little dehydrated from the fight. I don’t function well when I’m not topped off.
“Tell me, Knox,” Coach begins, “what’re you doing with Ethan?”
“What do ya mean?”
“No one knows and if you step up a level, they’ll ride you hard if they find out.”
“Like I give a fuck. I can handle anything they throw at me. What’re they gonna do? Call me names like kids in grade school? Try to jump me? They can bring it. Anything they bring at me, I’ve had worse. Much worse,” I admit.
“And what about Ethan?”
I pause. “Ethan can handle it. We’re gonna be attending a movie premiere for Lucy in a few months or so, and we’re going together. We figure if we get ahead of things soon, it’ll all die down by then. We don’t want to make waves for Lucy.”
“I can see that. Just let me know. We can PR spin the fuck out of this, you know. I’m sure Ethan’s got someone to work the PR out for him and the band, too,” Coach relays.
“Yeah,” I say. I guess I didn’t think we’d need PR. But we do. The ramifications of Ethan coming out could be disastrous for Falling Down—hell, they could be the same for me. Am I worried? Yeah, I’m worried. I just don’t want Ethan to worry. I want to hold that weight for him. I can dump it off in the ring while he’d have to continue to carry it until it weighed him down and brought him to his knees. I will not let that happen.
“Finish off with lower body. Ease up on the ribs. Don’t come in tomorrow. You need to heal, or it’ll end up worse,” Coach dictates.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ethan’s not too happy about my coming in either, but I needed the space to clear out the residual shit in my head. It’s not easy living with a house full of people,” I admit.
“I can’t even imagine. Lower body and massage. Ice, heat, wrap.”
I nod.
“See you in a couple days.”
“Later, coach.”
Just thinking about what Ethan and I have to face is making me twitchy. I kick the big bag, then spin-kick, mixing it up, working out my frustration and worry. I’m not worried for my sake. I let that shit roll right off my back. I’m worried for Ethan and what ridicule and the pressure of it could mean for Ethan—what it could mean for us.
He’s been fighting so hard in therapy to work his shit out. He’s even started opening up more to me about it. I hate what happened to him. I wish I knew the fucker’s name. I’d hunt him down and snap his fucking neck. He took Ethan’s innocence and turned it into something painful and ugly. And now… I let out a sigh. Now he can’t stand someone to be behind him—just like Tera. If either of them feel a stranger’s breath on their neck, they go into fight-or-flight mode. It’s instantaneous and it’s scary—for them, and for everyone else around them.
Kick. Spin-kick. Kick. Kick. Kick.
He feels dirty. Sometimes after we’re together, he has the water in the shower so hot I worry he’s going to scald his skin off. And the way he washes and washes and washes himself. Jesus.
So, I turn the water to a tolerable temperature and take the body wash and cloth from him. I gently and slowly cleanse him in a healing manner as opposed to the frantic, wounding way he goes about it. He’s blind to anything but the visions in his head, the memories. I, with each touch and soft, loving word, bring him slowly back to the present where he shudders and shakes. I hold him, caress him, soothe him—love him. Eventually he finds his way back to me and hugs me tightly. I dry us off and carry him to bed where he trembles in my arms, climbing so far into my side, he’s half on top of me. Finally, he falls asleep, but I don’t. I stay awake all night, holding him, soothing him, so the nightmares stay at bay.
No one ever spoke about the day he turned up at Dr. Mac’s, bleeding, screaming, and barely able to stand. We were all just there for him however he needed us. And this is how he needs me now.
I would do anything for him. I’d kill for him. I’d die for him. But one thing I won’t do is give up on him or us. He worries I will. It would be like ripping out a part of my soul. He’s a part of me, a part I will never let go. Ever.
No matter how bad things get.
