Chapter Thirty-Seven
Brick
One year later…
When I left the gym, I noticed that the trees were finally turning yellow for fall. There was a chill to the breeze, but my muscles were still so warm from the workout and the class, I was fine in just my sleeveless T-shirt. It was another day in Seattle, and, hopping into my truck and flipping on the radio, I was happy to be here.
It was a funny feeling, to have to learn how to stay in one place. Ever since leaving Philadelphia, I had been on the run, ready to skip town as quickly as I arrived. Now that Irving and Ezra had worked their ways into my heart, however, I was figuring out a different way to live. It wasn’t easy, but it was good.
I put the truck into gear and headed across town to the house my guys were sharing. I had been reluctant to join a gym at first, especially one on the other side of town. I was used to working out at home and jogging through the park. But Ezra and Irving had helped me figure out how important a routine was. As long as I kept myself steady and focused, it was pretty easy to stay out of trouble. I just needed to keep a good balance of excitement, discipline, and some good old-fashioned release. The guys helped a lot with that last one, but the gym was pretty important, too.
At first, I was just giving myself an hour every other day to pummel the punching bag and exhaust myself lifting. As long as I kept hitting the gym, it was pretty easy to stay calm at the Steel Rose. There was no way I would actually give up my job at the bar, even though it did require me to toss out some rough guys and break up so many fights I had lost count. But one day, the owner of the gym had noticed my form and how much time I was sinking in to the place. Somehow, I’d found myself signed up to teach a class three times a week shortly after that. It wasn’t much, just a handful of teenagers who needed to learn how to let out their aggression, but they seemed to like me well enough, and the extra money it put in my pocket meant that I was actually making enough to put some in savings, too.
Okay, maybe the class mattered for a little more than spare change. As much as I was reluctant to have any damn person relying on me, those kids had won a spot in my heart. None of us were good at communicating, and god knows, if I told them they were special, they’d probably stop coming to the class. But as time went on, I saw them learning to manage their anger and saw how important the little group we created actually was.
Considering the fact that I was learning to manage my feelings, too, there was something pretty special about that. We might have just looked like a bunch of men throwing their fists against each other and cursing under our breath, but there was always more to the story when you were looking at guys like me.
Some days, I could get a little antsy still. Irving and Ezra felt like my need for danger was a holdover from my childhood, something that would fade with time. That might be true. I did feel addicted to the adrenaline spike and the thrill of throwing punches in order to stay alive. Life wasn’t perfect, and if I were ever going to leave the fight totally behind, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. What I was learning instead was to accept that part of myself and to find the release and the excitement outside of the fighting pit.
And there were lots of places to find it, from the gym to the bar, and from a good loud band to a hike through the mountains. But nothing quite left me as satisfied as Irving and Ezra did.
Pulling my truck outside their house, I ran a hand through my messy hair, still damp with sweat from class. I rotated my shoulders, feeling the pop and ache of my sore muscles, then hopped out. The trees were casting afternoon shade over the house, and I noticed that one of the guys had mowed the lawn and tended to the little garden out front.
I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have found them. Fuck, I had given up on love altogether, let alone the kind of love Irving and Ezra offered me. But every day that passed, I was able to accept it a little more. They weren’t fooling themselves or making some kind of grand mistake by giving me their hearts. We all chose each other, and as time passed, it just became clearer that our relationship was the right choice to make.
I loved them. It took me a damn long time to realize it. I had never been loved before, and I guess that just made it hard to see the truth. But as I stepped into the living room and saw Ezra and Irving sprawled out on the couch together, a record playing on the stereo and Ezra’s drawing supplies on the table, I was reminded of just how true it was.
“How was class?” Irving asked, looking up from his book.
“Did that one guy give you any trouble today?” Ezra asked.
I chuckled, shaking my head and thinking about the problem student. “He kept his mouth shut and followed instructions, but I’m sure he’ll push back again soon enough,” I answered, kicking off my boots and joining them on the couch. “I love how fiery Roman is, but damn if he doesn’t try my nerves.”
Roman was actually one of my favorite students, a guy with a background not that different than my own. I had tried to open up to him a couple of times and get him talking about his past, but any attempt at reaching out was met with another violent pushback. Anyway, it didn’t really bother me. Ezra and Irving had taught me how important patience was in dealing with a hothead like me, and as long as Roman kept coming by the gym, I had all the patience in the world.
I pulled Irving’s legs onto my lap, the tension fading out of my muscles as he wiggled close to me. Whenever I got back to these two, my stresses seemed to slip away. They were happy and committed to me, and that allowed me to relax, too.
It was a new feeling, to have even one person I could count on. The fact that I had two made me feel like the luckiest man in the city.
“You enjoying the day off work?” I asked.
Ezra nodded, glancing at his drawings. “I’m making some progress in the story I’m trying to tell. I can’t believe how much time it’s taking to get a single page of drawings and storyline done, but I’m getting some good work done, anyway.”
“I made us a big pot of coffee,” Irving said, lying his hand on my knee. “I’m teaching Ezra how to focus.”
“Kind of,” Ezra laughed. “Irving will spend all day staring at his computer. I can get about an hour of drawing in before I need to go for a walk.”
“Coffee helps!” Irving added. “It’s my secret weapon.”
“Beer works for me,” I grumbled, poking Irving in the side so he knew I was joking. “But coffee comes in a close second.”
As we chatted, I heard the familiar sound of Bruiser charging toward the living room from the back of the house. The pit bull was only six months old, but with how rowdy she had gotten, she required as much attention as three full-grown dogs. As she charged around the corner, saliva flying in every direction, I braced myself.
Irving squealed as the pup jumped onto my lap, sending everyone on the couch reeling and laughing. She slobbered her way in a circle, earning more yelps from Irving before finally collapsing in my lap. I hugged her close, rubbing the top of her head ferociously and whispering her name to say hello.
“Full couch,” Ezra joked.
“She been out in the backyard all morning?” I asked.
