“You ready?” I ask him.
“Yeah.”
We move out from beneath the stage, and I lead him out of the tent. When the night air hits us, Vero stops, tips his head back, and breathes. I stand beside him until he is ready to move.
Once we are walking again, Brawley finds us. He stops when he sees Vero, and something crosses his face—relief, maybe—but he shakes it off as he closes the distance between us. He takes Vero’s face in his hands and makes him look up at him.
“Ring, now,” Brawley demands.
Vero drops his head back and looks at the sky, then back at Brawley, nodding once.
I step forward. “He just?—”
“This is how we do it,” Brawley says.
“He is exhausted and needs to sleep. He doesn’t need you to beat the shit out of him.”
“Kayla.” Clay’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see he is standing a few feet back. “Let them do it their way.”
I look at Brawley and then at Vero, who gives me a small nod. I don’t fucking like it, not even a little, but if this is how they do things, I can’t argue.
Ares is already there when we arrive, standing inside the cage door with his arms folded. He looks at Vero, and the moment he notices his lack of hair, his eyes shift briefly to me.
Brawley and Vero enter the cage. Brawley rolls his shoulders, and Vero stands across from him. They look at each other for a moment before Brawley swings.
That is when I lose my fucking mind. Vero is not ready; he won’t fight back.
“Stop!” I yell, rushing toward the cage door. Clay’s arms come around me from behind, locking me against his body. “Let me fucking go. He isn’t going to fight back—it’s not fair.”
“I know,” Clay says in almost a whisper. “Let them do this, even if it’s hard for you to watch.”
Vero staggers after taking another hit, and I push harder against Clay’s arms. “He’s hurting him.”
“He knows exactly what he is doing,” Clay says, but it does nothing to reassure me. “Both of them do. This is nothing new, and this is how Vero gets out of his head when nothing else works. Otherwise, this goes on for days or weeks.” He adjusts his hold on me, but it doesn’t loosen. “He needs to feel something, and this is the only way Brawley knows. Just stay out of it.”
I stop fighting, but Clay’s arms stay locked around me as I witness one of the hardest things I have ever had to watch.
Brawley does not go at full strength, that I can tell, and I notice Vero is slowly coming back. It may just be a smirk, but he is in there. He moves better on his feet, then throws a punch back, and Brawley takes it, grinning at him as Clay exhales behind me. It goes on for a few more minutes, then Brawley wraps an arm around Vero’s neck and pulls him in, pressing his mouth to the side of Vero’s head.
Ares opens the cage door and steps out. Relief washes over me—it is over.
I push out of Clay’s arms, and this time he lets me go, so I race through the cage door. Shoulder-checking Brawley so he lets me closer, I elbow my way in, and Vero looks at me with blood on his lip, his eyes now clearer.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He falls into step with me, and we wander back to the house. I ask him for the first aid kit, and he leads me to a bathroom. Vero sits on the edge of the tub while I set everything up, then I tip his chin a little to look at the cut on the bridge of his nose. Itisn’t deep, but it’s still bleeding, so I press gauze to it and hold it there. He’s quiet while I work, which is not like him, but I focus on my task. As I reach for the antiseptic, he sniffles, so I put it down and wait.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers.
“Do what?” I ask.
He presses two fingers to his temples. “Pretend.” Before I can respond, he hits the heel of his hand hard against the side of his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He does it again. “I need to leave.”
“Vero.” I reach out and catch his wrist before he hits himself a third time. “Please don’t leave. Talk to me.”
He opens his eyes and stares at me, so lost, my heart hurts for him.
“I’m not in love with you.” He says it fast, like he has to get it out before he loses his nerve. Then he stops and shakes his head—hard. “Fuck, I’m fucking this up already.” He puts both hands over his face for a second and then drops them. “I think I do fucking love you, I do, but I am so in love with Brawley I can’t see straight. I can’t think straight. The thought of not being around him makes it hard to breathe—it’s like the air gets punched out of my lungs and it doesn’t come back.” His voice breaks on the last word, but he steadies himself and keeps going. “But I feel like you actually get me. You see all of it: the parts that scare everyone else, the parts that even I don’t know what to do with. You just stay. I have never had that with anyone before. I don’t know what to do with it, and it scares me. But I don’t get scared and I don’t know what any of this means and I am so fucking confused.”
