Page 119 of When There Was You
I’m overwhelmed by how incredible Daddy Lumberjack is for teaching this to his daughter so she’ll be prepared. Because he’s right—the world is full of dicks, literally and figuratively. It’s a monumental, responsible parenting display.
And I’m flooded with the bone-deep knowledge of how muchIneed it.Now. Yesterday. Most of my life.
“Will you teach me too?” I ask.
Butch’s head swings my way. “Yeah?”
I meet his gaze, trying not to sound desperate. “Yes. Please?”
“I’d be happy to, Sundance. I’ll pick you up a set of gloves and we’ll start the next time you come down.”
I squeeze his forearm. “Thank you.”
Fifty-Nine
Boxing turns out to be the most empowering activity I’ve ever experienced. In a month’s time, I’ve learned the basics. The correct stance, how to stay on the balls of my feet, turn my hips. Essential punches like the jab, cross, and hook—plus combining them. The importance of breath work, exhaling on every strike. And how to hit a heavy punching bag.
Today Butch watches me practice straight punches on the bag, just jabs and crosses. I’ve done them slowly so far, focusing on my footwork and relaxing my fist until I land each punch. I pick up the pace incrementally, ready to speed it up.
“That’s it, Sundance,” Butch praises from where he sits on a workbench. “Your form’s looking good.”
My lips tug up slightly.Bap bap, bapbap, bapbap. I love hitting this dense, stuffed cylinder. The sweat coating my skin is proof of my effort and exertion—and this demonstration of power makes my cells crackle with energy and blood hum.
I don’t kid myself about my boxing skills. It’s only been weeks, so they’re fledgling at best, but the entire actfuels me. Strength over weakness. Confidence over fear. Badass over coward.
Another month of shit assignments.Bapbapbap.
Leering and winks from Don.Bap bap bapbapbapbap.
Bitchy, smug looks from Tanya.Bapbapbapbapbapbap.
Being trapped, stuck, scared.Bap bap bapbapbap.
I drop my hands, leaving the bag swaying from where its bolted to the rafter. Strands of hair loosened from my ponytail cling to my face. I grin at Mr. Handsome Trainer, whose eyes scan me top to bottom with a satisfied smile on his lips.
He crooks his finger and coaxes me to stand between his legs, which dangle from the sturdy wooden table he’s sitting on.
Butch grips my waist. “You look so goddamn sexy right now. If I wasn’t worried about snooping young eyes, I’d bend you over this workbench.”
His words hit the intended spot and a little bomb of pleasure spreads through my system as a whimper leaves my mouth. Boxing may empower me, but I’m putty in Butch’s hands. There’s something extra filthy about the idea of getting it on in here with grease, dirt, cars, and tools. Perhaps on the hood of a car…
Our mouths collide hungrily, and I don’t even care about the sweat. Just this. Just now.
We part, sharing a moment of mutual understanding. My heart leans fully toward his now with zero reservations. Maybe it’s caution-to-the-wind stupidity, or blind faith, but it seems bigger than that.
I used to think we were like two halves of a broken glass. Once glued together, we formed a whole, but the cracks were still visible. Now I see our broken shards were melded in hot fire and blown together to create something original, strong, and colorful.
Butch unlaces my gloves. “You’re improving with every session. I’m proud of the work you’re putting in.”
“I didn’t expect to like it so much.”
“Yeah? Why’d you want to learn so badly?”
“Everything you said about why you were teaching Emmy? That all applies to me. I wish I’d had a father who understood what kind of protection women need in the world.”
He assesses me as he pulls off the second glove. “Have you dealt with some assholes?”
I nod. “I’ve fought off several.”Still am.
