Love Her - Andrea Johnston Page 0,72
time.
“Twig.” Grant uses my nickname from the military and the similarities to how I feel now and who I was then are uncanny. The anger is the same but I’m no longer the scrawny little kid that couldn’t shift the bag a centimeter. Now, I will beat this bag until I have nothing left to give.
“Cap.”
“Gloves are there,” he says, motioning to a bench with a few pairs of gloves before assuming his position behind the bag.
Stripping off my shirt, I toss it on the bench and slip on the boxing gloves.
Left.
Right.
Left.
My punches are full body. Every ounce of the hurt, confusion, and frustration I feel pouring out of me with each strike. Time stands still and sweat runs down my back. The moments I’ve shared with Lis play like a movie in my head.
Her smile.
Her laugh.
The competitor she pretends doesn’t exist.
The way her chest heaves as she reaches her climax.
Everything about her that I love. Because I was falling in love with her. Regardless of her feelings, mine were real. Yet, she played me.
Right hook.
Uppercut.
“Okay, time for a break.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stand down, Hall.”
The order stops me in my tracks. Wrists resting on top of my head, I gasp for air. Walking out of the garage and into the driveway. Pacing back and forth, I breathe in and out through my nose, my jaw locked tight.
I was falling in love.
Like a deflated balloon, I lose all the fight I have in me. The coldness of a water bottle startles me. Slipping off a glove, I accept the offering. Grant stands next to me, never uttering a word. He’s been in this spot with me before. When we first met and again after Henry died. We all handle stress and grief in our own way. Mine just happens to be beating the shit out of something.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks as we stand side by side, looking out across his front lawn.
“Not really but I assume you’re going to tell me I need to.”
“Wouldn’t dream of telling you anything.”
Shaking my head, I release a laugh that holds zero humor. Grant Ellison was a captain in the U.S. Army for a reason. He loves telling people what to do. I’d never tell him that though. He’d kick my ass.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
“That’s the rumor.”
I should be surprised there are rumors about me, but if I’ve learned anything after living in two small towns, it’s that being the star of gossip at least once is a rite of passage.
“Well, the rumors are true. Except it turns out she’s been playing me.” Downing the rest of the cold water, I pivot on my heel.
“Playing you how?” he asks as we make our way back to the garage. Setting the gloves on the bench, I tug my shirt back over my head.
“I heard her telling Ashton she was using me.”
Pity. I see it in his eyes. “And what did she say when you confronted her?” I don’t respond, keeping my eyes off his. “You did speak with her, right?”
“And say what?” I ask, turning to face him. “Thanks for fucking me over? Nah, man. I’ll pass. This is what I get for attempting a relationship.”
Grant is an excellent poker player. He doesn’t have a tell that any of us have figured out. No matter how many times we’ve sat around playing Hold ’Em, I’ve yet to see a twitch of an eye or shift in his seat. Yet, standing here his opinions are all over his face.
He’s disappointed in me. On how I’m reacting to being shit on by a person I care about.
“So you ran?”
“I didn’t run. I heard what she said and then I got in my truck before I said something I would regret.”
“That is the epitome of running, Connor. You know this is what you do. Why are you acting put off by the concept?”
I respect Grant. He has been there for me in more ways than one over the years. Looking out for me and taking on the role of a big brother, he’s never made me feel like he was judging me. Until today.
“I don’t run.”
His lips lift to a slight grin as he shakes his head. “When you were a kid, you ran with a tough crowd. You’ve not shared much of what went down, but I know it was bad enough to send you straight to the local recruiter to enlist. After a string of injuries, you took the offer for a medical discharge.