Page 20 of Shattered Souls
Under normal circumstances, I’d be all for learning to defend myself.Especiallygiven what happened with Ben.
But today?
I just don’t have it in me to care.
Royce pulls me to a stop before we reach the door, his hands squeezing my shoulders before sliding to grip the top of my arms as he lowers his head to mine. “I know you don’t want to do this. I know this is the last place you want to be. I’m sure Tara would get you out of it if you absolutely don’t want to go in there, but I think the distraction would do you good. It isn’t going to fix anything, but there is a catharsis in physically expelling all that you’re feeling.” His piercing blue eyes search mine, soft with affection and sympathy. “You’re lost right now. Everything isspiraling out of control, and you can no longer identify up from down. While I can’t empathize with exactly how you’re feeling, I do understand that feeling of having no control over your life.
“Stepping up to an opponent, facing your fears head-on, it’s like... it’s like reclaiming a piece of yourself. You can't control everything that’s happening, but for those moments when you’re lost in the draw of the fight,youcontrol your body, your movements, your power. It’s a release, a purging. You let out all that pent-up frustration, anger, and fear. And in that brief moment, you feel... liberated. Like you’re not just surviving but fighting back. It won’t solve everything, but it might give you a little breathing room, a break from the suffocating weight of it all.”
Staring up at him, I hold his gaze before sighing. “Okay,” I murmur.
He smiles, reeling me into his chest for a brief hug before we enter the warehouse. Without the usual revelry to drown out the noise, the steel doors clang shut behind us, echoing through the cavernous space. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation, mingling with the faint aroma of stale beer that lingers from the previous night.
The steel warehouse, usually filled with raucous crowds and pounding music, has been transformed into a makeshift arena for the self-defense class. The harsh fluorescent lights typically focused on the ring in the center of the room now illuminate multiple mats spread out on the worn concrete floor around the ring. Some are already occupied, and I wave as some girls I work with glance my way.
I recognize Tara’s friend, Rome, standing in the middle of the ring, wearing loose shorts and an undershirt. Her brother stands beside him, similarly dressed, as they converse quietly. The two of them, plus Royce, are our demonstrators today.
“You came!” Tara greets me with a broad yet compassionate smile as she strides toward me in a pair of skin-tight workout leggings and a bra that shows off her toned stomach. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, emphasizing the bright pink tips that swish as she walks. She doesn’t stop until she barrels into me, her arms wrapping me up in a tight embrace that forces the air from my lungs.
Despite not wanting to be here, I practically collapse into her as I seek strength from her hug. When I’d messaged her last week to tell her I wouldn’t be at work for the foreseeable future, I’d dodged her texts and calls, wanting to know what was wrong. I’d thought maybe Xander would have filled her in, but it appears he was keeping everything on the downlow. Eventually, Logan took pity on her and answered her call to explain the situation.
I appreciated him doing that. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words aloud.
“You didn’t have to come,” Tara murmurs for only me to hear.
“It’s fine.” Pulling back, I give her a tight smile. Glancing Royce’s way, I tack on with a sarcastic drawl, “Apparently, attempting to beat up someone else will be cathartic for me.”
Tara laughs. “He’s totally right. The rush is a high like nothing else. It’ll give you something else to focus on for a couple of hours, if nothing else.”
I arch a brow in a silent question.
“What?” she chuckles. “I grew up around a group of guys who know how to fight. You think I didn’t pick up a few things?”
Yeah… but the way she said that… it was almost as though she was alluding to something more. Huffing a laugh, I let it go.
“I’m gonna go talk to Xander and Rome,” Royce says, placing his hand on the base of my spine as he looks down at me. “You okay here?”
I give him a reassuring smile. “I’m good.”
His stare lingers for a moment longer before he breaks it, striding toward the ring where Xander and Rome are still standing.
“How are you really?” Tara asks when he’s out of earshot.
“Surviving.”
She nods, and her expression says she knows exactly how that feels. “The guys taking care of you?”
“Yeah, they’ve been great.”
She arches a disbelieving eyebrow. “Even the douchebag?”
I chuckle. “Shockingly, yes—even Grayson.”
“Good,” she says with authority, turning to link her arm with mine as we move toward an empty mat. “Because I’ll happily junk punch him if need be.”
“I was kinda hoping I’d be capable of doing that myself after this session,” I tease.
Facing me, she flashes her white teeth in a vicious impersonation of a grin. “That’s the spirit.”
