Page 72 of Forever Mine
The musty smellof hard-earned sweat fills my nostrils as I step into the gym. Swiping my student ID card, I grab a hand towel from the sign-in desk and go in search of Jayson. The CU student rec center is a massive building of chrome, brick, and glass. The facility is state-of-the-art and has every piece of workout equipment imaginable, including climbing walls, basketball courts, and two boxing rings.
When I reach the anterior extension, the rhythmic thud of gloves hitting heavy bags plays the soundtrack to punctuated grunts of exertion. I scan the room until I find Jayson, already in the ring, his damp, dark-brown hair clinging to his forehead, gray eyes sharply focused as he throws a series of choreographed jabs.
Grabbing the tape from the station, I do a quick wrap of my hands before putting on my sparring gloves and climbing into the ring. Jayson’s face splits in a grin when he notices me.
“Ready to get your ass kicked, pretty boy?”
“Ready to see you try,” I reply good-humoredly.
Jayson and I have sparred a few times before, and he’s always careful with his punches. Unlike Fallon. When we train, he does not go easy on me. I don’t want him to. It’s one of the reasons why I asked Fallon to teach me how to fight.
Climbing under the ropes, I kick off my shoes and drop my stuff on the floor, then do a quick stretch. When I’m ready, Jayson raises his gloves, signaling for me to start. The soles of our bare feet whisper against the soft felt as we circle each other. Since I haven’t warmed up yet, we begin with light combo punches—jab, block, hook, dodge. The repetition of physicalexertion feels really good, and within minutes, my muscles loosen up.
“We going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Jayson says between punches.
I hesitate, the embarrassment of my panic attack still raw, before replying, “Are you going to drop it if I say I don’t want to?”
“Nope.”
He ups the pace, his punches coming faster, forcing me to concentrate on his movements. He sneaks past my block and lands a light punch to my ribs.
“Always look for the tell. Everyone has them. I tend to drop my left shoulder when I go for a right undercut.”
“That was an underhand right,” I point out.
“I was merely giving an example, smartass.”
Jayson snaps a quick jab that I barely manage to deflect.
“Elephant is still here.”
He can be as stubborn as a brick wall when he wants to be.
“That elephant can kiss my butt.” I feint a forward cross with the right before aiming a hook to his kidneys with the left, a move he blocks effortlessly.
Bouncing in place, he rolls his shoulders. “You tend to look where you’re going to punch.”
I do? Well, damn.
He lowers his gloves. “In all seriousness, you know you can talk to me. About anything.”
Anything. If I told him what David said about Julien… or about the other thing he confessed… Jayson already doesn’t trust David, and I’ve maintained that David and I are just friends. That there is nothing to worry about. Jayson is protective of his twin, fiercely so. If he knew David had crossed a line last night, things could get ugly.
“I know,” I reply.
“Then why won’t you talk to me about what happened last night? Why did I have to hear about it from Ry?”
“Julien didn’t tell you?”
“He’s been about as forthcoming as you.”
Pulling a wrist strap with his teeth, he takes off the right glove. The left soon follows. I guess we’re done. I remove my sparring gloves and stuff the tape inside them until I can get to a trashcan to toss it.
Jayson steps in front of me. “I’m worried about you, E.”
Funny how not too long ago, our roles were reversed, and it was me constantly worrying about him.
A lump lodges in my throat, and I swallow it down. “I swear, I’m okay.”
