Page 32 of Love Punch

The bills were all set up via Direct Debit, but I made a mental checklist of everything else. “I don’t know if Bradley and I will be around for a couple more weeks, so I’ll have the protein delivery scheduled. Do you think it’s worth setting up a little self-sufficiency class?”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve always cooked for Bradley. But not all these people are going to be Bradley. And lots of them are from disadvantaged backgrounds. So, if we can get a chef in to teach them to cook simple, healthy meals for themselves…” I drummed my finger across the counter. “…don’t worry about answering. We’re doing it.”

With the tea finished, I claimed one for myself and passed the other to Jason. He held it by the handle, remaining completely silent. He just looked at me.

“Alright, what?” I asked.

“Bradley. And you. You and Bradley,” Jason teased.

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’” Jason blew gently on the cup of tea. “What happened there? Or rather whatishappening there?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I think we just…did what we’ve both wanted to do for long enough.”

“Finally.” Jason let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you have it locked down then? Are you ‘going steady?’”

“You’ve spent way too long training twenty-year-old fighters,” I laughed. “’Going steady?’”

“Hush. Tell me.”

“…it only started two days ago,” I admitted. “But I think we’re both pretty serious about it. If I was going to get sick of him, surely it would have been in the last three years?”

“I think you two have been doing this dance around each other for years. And I’ve no doubt you have something special going on.”

“How about you?” I deflected. “Any special lady in your life?”

Jason shook his head. “Boxing is my wife. No one else matters.”

My phone buzzed, and I took it out of my pocket. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Sophia,” said the voice at the end of the line. I recognised her straight away as Bradley’s tattoo artist. “I’ve beentrying to get a hold of Bradley for his next tattoo. It was due tomorrow and he booked direct, but I’ve heard nothing from him.”

I rolled my eyes. Ihadseen his unread emails pile. “Send me the design and I’ll double check if he still wants to get it. I think he has a…victory thing. So if he’s not keen on tomorrow, I’ll send you payment over in full.”

“Thanks,” said Sophia. “It’s the most personal one yet, so I want to do it justice.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Jason. “Personal? How can boxing terminology bepersonal?Is uppercut personal?”

Jason choked on his tea as I opened my emails to check the picture.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Me? Fine. Fine, I promise. But should you really be looking at what Bradley is having on his arm? Itispersonal.”

“It will literally be on his skin tomorrow, so it’s not exactly a secret,” I muttered. I tapped my foot as I waited for the image to load. “His last fight was in Cardiff, so I have no idea if he’ll choose English or Welsh. I speak a little Welsh, though I wish I spoke more…”

The image loaded, and stopped me in my tracks. A daffodil, growing daintily around the two swirling, scripted words. My Welsh might have been rudimentary, but I definitely understoodthat. “What the fuck?”

I wasn’t even aware of relaxing my grip until the mug smashed against the linoleum, shattering into pieces and sending hot tea splashing the bottom of my trousers. “Fuck, sorry, Jase. I need…I need to speak to Bradley.”

I walked out of the kitchen in a daze.What the fuck?Why had Bradley been lying to me about his tattoos — such a tiny, trivial thing — for the last three years? And why did it seem like Jason was in on it?

I approached the canvas in the middle of the floor, where I’d left the two men sparring.

Whack. Whack. Bam.The familiar sounds of the boxing gym surrounded me, giving me a weird confidence I didn’t always possess. The ring might be Bradley’s domain, but I had helped keep this place running for three years. It was my home.

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