Page 26 of The Fighter who Needed Me
And now he knew why he did not touch another woman. After meeting Persephone on the boat, he was grateful he had not touched another.
And he was ready to start his life with his girl. Now. Except her past held her in a tight grip and would not let go.
With each new hour that passed, Brooks felt even more sick and heartbroken.
She was not coming. And he knew that if she was not coming now, she would not be coming later.
He shook his head. He could not think that way. He knew that she could not just leave that easily and that it would take some time.
He needed to do something. To not just sit and pace back and forth.
He looked at the ring and the bags of sand they had hanging there and stripped his shirt off and rolled his shoulders and neck until his bones popped and he felt more limber.
Stepping into the ring, he hopped up and down a few times, after taking his boots off as well.
And then went to the bag in the corner, his fists up and ready. Then he hit the bag over and over, feeling his muscles loosen as he struck the bag, moving his body in the rhythm he felt by heart and by muscle memory.
He kept striking the bag, moving his feet and acting as though the bag would strike him back, keeping his body loose and limber.
He stayed at it for hours, feeling the sweat roll down his back in streams and he had to blink it from his eyes.
He knew he needed to stop but could not. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
As the hours slipped by and there was no sign of her still, he knew that she was not coming. Knew it in his soul.
He could no longer swing his arms like he had, he was too sluggish and tired.
And he dropped to the mat, too exhausted to do anything but breathe.
He heard a noise and looked around, seeing Billy standing in the shadows.
Billy walked forward and helped him sit up, “How long have you been down here? Your knuckles are bleeding.”
Brooks looked down at them, not caring that he was getting blood all over the place.
“A while.” Was all he replied, and Billy helped him stand.
“You are swaying. Brooks, what is wrong?”
He looked at Billy, “What is wrong? What is wrong is that my wife was supposed to come so we could leave here and live the life that we were meant for and instead, she chose or was forced to stay with the family that drugs her, beats her and resents the fact that their daughter is weak and sick all the time. Not realizing that she is whole and well. And that the only reason she is sick is because of their influence. Their sick and twisted thoughts that she cannot survive without them or their medicine. And now? I have to live with the fact that my wife can’t just be my wife. That I have to watch her from afar and nothing I do is ever going to be enough.”
And with that he walked away, leaving Billy in the middle of the mat, his mouth hanging open.
He walked up to his rooms and slammed his door shut, locking it and slid down it.
He sat that way for hours, just staring at nothing, but knowing nothing would be the same.
Nothing.
