“Dallas, you can’t—”
“I’ve got this. We’re in a good place now—or gettin’ there at least.”
His jaw locks, like he can’t hold back. “That why she calls you by your first name? You talk to her about that yet?”
“I’m not pressuring her to do anything,” I snap quietly.
Wilder holds up his hands in defense. “I saidtalkto her, nottellher. She probably just needs to know it’s OK to.”
“Come on, let’s hit the road. Sooner we go, sooner we get back.” I push off the fence. “You start the car, I’ll go say goodbye.”
2
I adjust the elastic band of my ponytail and try not to stare too hard at my reflection in the mirrored wall running along the far side of the open space.
It’s my fourth self-defense class in two weeks, and already I feel this quiet confidence that I can take on anything.
Maybe not anyone—I’m still only five-foot-three—but the few skills I’ve picked up in my short time here are enough.
One decisive move is all I’ll need.
In most cases.
I inhale sharply through my nose and focus on my instructor. Today, Travis is in a red padded suit standing at the front, watching us like he’s about to pluck out the weakest link. He smiles too easily for someone whose job is to pretend to attack people and show us all the different ways we could die if we don’t act fast enough.
“Remember,” he continues, hands behind his back as he snakes around us, “if you can’t get away, the only option you have is to survive. Hit first. Hit hard. It’s all about impact. Hesitation will be your downfall.”
Not in my case.
Falling in love is my downfall—wasmy downfall.Trustwas my downfall.
And it’s a mistake I won’t make again. For a third time—it’s a mistake I won’t make athirdtime. Because Eric wasn’t the first man to leave me with regrets.
But mark my words, he’s my last.
From this day on, it’s me against the world.
I feel my heart rate kick up a notch and my focus cloud. I blink, trying to mentally shake him out of my mind, but it only makes me dizzy.
I glance at the others, needing some kind of assurance I’m not the only one completely off balance here, but the women around me are not only focused, they’re watching Travis like they’re ready for war.
Panic rises in me as Travis turns his gaze on me.
Get a hold of yourself, woman. You’re literally paying the man to do this.
“Red. Up front.”
Red?Oh, he’s referring to me—the only woman in here with auburn hair. I push back my annoyance and lift my chin as I march to the front.
I’m confident all right. Confident I’m not fooling anyone.
“Let’s start simple,” he begins, following behind me. “Palm strike. Step in, aim for the nose. You have under a second to disorient your attacker.”
No pressure or anything.
Standing beside me, he demonstrates it into the air. Swift and poised. A few women mimic the motion, but I apparently missed my cue.
“Again,” he huffs as he demonstrates a second time.
