Page 80 of Bourbon and Lies

I hit the bag again.

Relocating, and running away, no matter how smart or safe of a move it was, made me feel like I didn’t have control. Those nightmares just remind me that things are still unfinished. Unanswered. I don’t know the whole story. And it’s myfuckingstory.

I throw three punches in succession and then lean against the bag, glancing up at him.

“Why are you just watching me?”

“Keep going. Same combination, but add a knee at the end of it.”

“You keep going,” I snap back, out of breath.

“I’m watching you because you look fucking good hitting that bag.”

I don’t want him to flirt with me. I’m sweating and working my ass off and he’s just watching. Julep too.

“That’s all I am, here for your viewing pleasure, then?” I throw two jabs and a left hook.

When he smirks, it has me stopping.

“This isn’t working.” I yank off the gloves.

“Tell me what you need.” He tilts his head to the side, sizing me up.

“Fantastic question. Why don’t you tell me.”

My eyes narrow as he bites his lower lip, trying to hold back from smiling. “You want someone who’s going to challenge that smart-ass mouth of yours?”

“You didn’t think it was a smart-ass mouth when it was choking on your cock.”

He barks out a laugh, and I swallow mine down. I hadn’t planned on saying that.

I can imagine what I look like right now. My hair has escaped from its sagging ponytail, with a series of wet sweat spots spanning from between my boobs and down to the crease where my ass meets my thighs. I’m sweating in places I hadn’t realized would sweat. And I’m picking a fight.

“You’ve been too sweet to me lately. Is that it? All that fire you have is trying to figure out where to go?”

Even as my belly swoops, I hit the heavy bag again with a huff. “What does that even mean, Grant?”

Every minute that passes, the cloud of truth hangs heavier over my head. Each punch is like a fight I’m having with myself at this point. We said no more lies, but my secret is one that has to be kept, no matter what. No matter what happens with us. It’s one that could put him in as much danger for knowing as I am for living it. How can I do that to him?

“I’m telling you that whatever you need, I’m right here.” He steps closer, and just his proximity softens me. “If you want to punch that bag for the rest of the morning to work through some shit, then fine. If you want to take a walk down to the stables, those horses can always help me forget the things that are too loud. If you need me to leave you alone because you need space, then I can do that too.”

My chest tightens, and I grab his forearm to nudge him to come closer. “Not that one.” Out of all the things I was racking my mind about what I needed to do or stop feeling in order to get out of this slump, distance from him wasn’t one of them.

No more lies.

I clear my throat and close my eyes briefly before looking up at him. “You already know I’m not from Colorado.”

He lets out a low hum and leans against the heavy bag. “I know.”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it was the wrong place at the right time. I told you about that night in the storage unit with Phillip.”

Nodding, he loops his finger with my pinky. He wants to touch me, but he’s giving me space. “Keep going, baby.”

And just those words are enough to let me exhale that breath I’ve been holding for so long. “I was upset about what had just happened. But then, I heard a scream...”

I tell him the whole story. How I helped another woman escape a nightmare and the chaotic hours afterwards that led me to Ace’s front porch.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I can’t even say for sure if I’m safe.” I shake my head. “I just know that I trust you with my story.”

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