Colson:If anyone is out of their mind, it’s me.
Colson:Completely fucking crazy about you.
Violet:You like me that much, huh?
Colson:You don’t even know.
My cell lightsup my face, making the ache in my forehead worsen. Last night’s fight was my first loss. I made the wrong move, didn’t watch my balance as well as I should have, and lowered my fists at the perfect time for my opponent to knock the wind out of me. He also got me in the side of my head.
For a split second during the fight, I wondered if I’d see brown eyes when I looked up. A tiny part of me hoped I would.
It was enough for the dude to gain leverage. I’ve had a persistent pain in my head ever since. I’ve also had this naggingvoice telling me to reach out to my girl. To respond to the text she sent me this morning, but I haven’t pulled the trigger on it. I don’t know if I should.
Actually, no, I do know.
I shouldn’t.
I lied to her for the duration of our relationship. I’m in no better headspace than I was the day Mom died. I’ve collected all my mental shit in a black garbage bag and shoved it into a hole under the floorboards where I can’t see or deal with it.
I want to lick my wounds in peace, without the sight of Violet’s disappointment looking back at me. Though, that proves difficult because I see it every time I close my eyes.
I hate how much my need to see her has grown since the candy warehouse incident. Since she showed up to my fight and was kept warm by Finn’s stupid fucking sweatshirt. I should’ve ripped it off her and tugged mine over her head instead. I should’ve pulled my head out of my ass and begged her for more than what she gave me. I should’ve gotten down on my hands and knees and requested forgiveness.
My stomach clenches, but I don’t pay it much mind. I’ve gotten used to ignoring the underlying effects of my emotions. The physical symptoms that push in when I don’t deal with what’s going on inside.
Most importantly, I can’t let her distract me. My focus needs to be elsewhere, like my fight tonight.
Tommy put me on the schedule despite the hits I took last night. Said it was my punishment, that the only way to learn the lesson of winning and earning him his money was to get back out there. When one of the guys spoke up about a possible head injury, he brushed it off. Said if I didn’t want to worry about head injuries, that I should’ve never let my guard down to begin with.
I’m slowly learning that he might be a little fucked up. But it’s also something to admire. Having that kind of conviction andtenacity with his fighters is exactly what makes them the best. What makesmethe best. So, I shrugged it off and agreed to show up.
It’s not like I have anything better to do.
Though, tonight, we’re not convening at the candy warehouse. Someone ran their mouth and blew our cover. Tonight’s location is being kept secret until an hour before the fights. Once the text comes through, I’ll grab my shit and head out.
Until then, past me criticizes present me to make an appearance at my aunt and uncle’s. I read over Violet’s text one last time, pretend I answer, then shove my phone deep into my pocket. I head to the kitchen, grab a banana and protein bar, and leave through the front, driving in the direction of Chatham Hills.
I pullinto the long driveway outside of the Rodriguez household. Their brick house sits back on an acre and a half of land. The Christmas tree shines through the big bay windows in the front, and when I get out and walk across the front pathway to the door, I swear the smell of big happy smiles and warm delicious pie swirls in the air.
I walk through the front door without so much as a knock, like I’ve always done, and find Sebastian and his parents in the great room withA Christmas Storyon the big screen. My cousin gives me a glance and, I’ll be damned, even nods his chin in greeting. We haven’t seen each other since the hand-around-the-neck incident, but it nearly turns me into a puddle because what kind of asshole would do such a thing?
My aunt and uncle would be horrified if they knew what happened that day.
Uncle Thad notices me next and motions for me to find a seat on the oversized sectional. I’m hesitant at first because I’m still pissed over what transpired at their lawyer’s office. I’m beyond hurt that my own aunt kept my father from me. That all these years, I could’ve avoided a lot of wondering had she stayed out of it or, at the very least, told me.
The next hour passes with me watching the movie with them. We don’t chat. Don’t interrupt what the actors say or do.
As much as I want to feel out of place, I don’t. This house has always felt like home. It’s always been a safe haven from the chaos in and around my life. Even with everything going on, it’s easy to melt into the couch and pretend like life is fine and dandy. I know I’ll have to tear myself away at the end of the night. Right back into the shitstorm. To Mom being gone. To The Battleground. To ruining my relationships with the people I love.
When the credits start rolling, Aunt Bess is the first to make a move. She walks over to the tree, snatches a gift under it, and places it in my lap on her way back over to Uncle Thad. “We didn’t know what to do for you this year. I think all of us have been a little scrambled, but it’s something.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” My eyes catch on the envelope taped to the small rectangular box. I don’t want to know what’s inside.
“We wanted to, Colson,” she says. “Open it. Please.”
All eyes are on me as I push my finger under one of the corners of the paper and tear it. My hands go clammy when I flip the gift over, yank off the rest of the paper and see Mom.
It’s only a picture, but fuck. She looks so young in it. Her smile is stretched wide, and her palm is splayed out on her roundbelly. There are crinkles next to her eyes from elation. Most of all, she looks healthy.
