Page 69 of The Demons We Hide

JULIET

Masculine grunts and the repetitive thud thud thud of someone slamming their fist into a swinging punching bag greets my ears the second we step into the gym. Even the stale scent of sweat makes me grin. It’s like coming home.

Cory steps away from the two guys sparring in the ring towards the back of the gym and approaches us with a smile. “Been awhile,” he says, eyeing Gio. “You doing alright, kid?”

G lifts an arm and curls it, tugging the sleeve of his t-shirt back to show off his muscled bicep. “Getting a little weak,” he says. “Thought we’d stop in for a session. I need to bulk back up since Coach is finally putting me back on the field.”

My eyes widen and I swing my gaze in his direction. Though I’ve noticed him spending more practice off the benches lately, I didn’t know that he was going to be back in the game.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. “Don’t you need to heal more?”

Gio drops his arm and slings it over my shoulders. “Aww, are you worried about me, Prep Girl?”

The heavy weight of his body leaning into mine makes me grimace. “Not worried,” I say, poking at his side.

He grins despite my sour tone, but then he looks back at Cory. “The colleges are going to have their scouts come out soon,” he admits. “Do you think if we stop in a couple of times a week, you can shape us up?”

“Us?” I repeat. “I’m not on the team.”

Gio arches an eyebrow at me and even Cory smirks. “Are you saying you don’t want to get back into sparring?” Cory asks.

“No!” I say quickly. “I do, I definitely do!”

The two chuckle and if it weren’t for their vastly different features, I’d say they almost sound like brothers, if not father and son. For a moment, I stare at the two of them with an odd sort of warmth in my chest.

“Come on, you two,” Cory says once their laughter has drifted off. He jerks his thumb over to the sparring ring before nodding to me. “If you need some workout gear, I’ve got some spares in the community locker. Go get changed and meet us out here.”

I nod excitedly before dashing off. Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of Cory’s gym sweats and an oversized matching t-shirt, and I’ve never been more grateful to have forgotten to do laundry than I am today because I’m already prepped with a sports bra on in place of my usual ones. Gio must have had his own gear in the car because when I find him and Cory by the ring, he’s changed into a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else.

My eyes move over the rugged muscles of his shoulders and abdomen and the various tattoos there too. One looks a bit fresher than the rest, but has obviously gotten past the red, swollen stage. He waves me into the ring before I can ask about it and soon enough the two of us are suited up with headgear and boxing gloves and circling one another in the ring.

Gio doesn’t waste any time. He dives forward, swinging his fist, and I duck, narrowly missing his knuckles. Bouncing on his feet, Gio doesn’t let up. His attacks are sharp and fast, no sign of his “weakness” as he’d said at all. Motherfucker. I grit my teeth and find myself dodging more than launching any of my own attacks.

“‘e’s got ya on the run, girl,” Cory calls as if I’m not well fucking aware of it.

“I know!” I snap back, ducking my head as Gio’s fist goes sailing over me once again. Seconds tick by as Gio forces me around the ring, and it isn’t until I see him pant and take a step forward that I see it—an opening.

Before he even realizes, I swipe my foot out, knocking both of his together. He goes tumbling to the mat and I dive on top of him. Throwing punch after punch as he puts both of his forearms up to block. I hear Cory’s rich laughter and then comments of encouragement, but all I can focus on is my actions.

Settling my hips more firmly down, I press my body weight into the man beneath me and drive my fist into the side of his head. Then Gio’s arms drop away entirely and I realize too late his alternate plan. He spins the two of us until my back slams into the mat and he rises over me.

Now, I bring my forearms up in the same defensive maneuver, but even as I do—the pressure of him holding me down with his body makes bile rise up in my throat.

Calm down, I order myself.It’s Gio. We’re not alone. We’re in public. Cory is right there.Still, as Gio drives a fist into my forearm, making the bone there ache, all I can feel is his groin moving back and forth against my stomach. I pant, trying to catch my breath.

Arching my legs up from behind Gio’s back, I twist until my ankles lock around his throat and he chokes, going down as I spin out of his hold and away—only releasing him when I’m sure he can’t immediately pin me again.

“Good!” Cory calls out, and we’re back at it.

By the time the session ends, I’m sore and sweaty and more ready to face-plant into bed at the first opportunity, but the smile on my face can’t be dimmed. Cory claps me on the back as I duck out from beneath the ropes.

“Ya did good, girl,” he says. “Really made him work for it.”

“You’re telling me,” Gio mutters good-naturedly as he, too, gets out from beneath the ropes.

I roll my eyes. “I still lost,” I remind him.

“It was a tie,” Cory argues, and I give the older man a baleful look.

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