Finding peace, p.19
Finding Peace, page 19
I should have known. My girl’s a writer. She’d never simply say, “I love you too.”
But when she leans a little farther and kisses me, her fingers curling against the muscle of my chest, I’m gone. I should be terrified, knowing that the power of her words, her feelings, could gut me. She holds my heart in her tiny hands. It’s maybe the most terrifying feeling I’ve ever experienced.
And it’s also the most precious.
When I walk into the sports arena, packed with way more people than I expected, even knowing my fight isn’t the only one, my heart is utterly calm, because I’ve already survived the most important part of my day. Having Anica at my side reminds me that ultimately, the result of this match doesn’t matter much.
Reluctantly, she leaves my side to sit next to my dad and Adriana. My sister’s still not talking to me, but she showed up, which means we’ll be alright. I should have introduced Anica to her, but they’ll figure that out. I watch them chatting, the two women I love most, and my heart swells.
But too soon, it’s my turn. Harrison gives me a pep talk, kind of a pathetic one, but he tries.
“You are, without a doubt, the most talented fighter I’ve ever trained.”
Oh, please.
“But your biggest weakness is your lack of confidence in yourself.”
“I feel pretty good about today.”
He frowns. “You do?”
I shrug.
“Wait. Does that mean you don’t care what happens?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I just think I can take him.”
“The Bulldog?” He glances behind me, and I turn instinctively.
He’s big. He’s bald. He’s angry looking. He’s got a gold tooth, which personally, I think was probably a mistake. You look equal parts goonish and scary at best. At worst, you look like you’re wearing a pirate costume.
“Just remember—”
“Don’t drop my head,” I say. “I know.”
“And no matter what—”
“Don’t overextend or he’ll flip my arm and I’m done.”
He grunts. “I might have said it a few too many times, but you still do it sometimes.” Harrison claps a hand on my arm. “Be the powerhouse I know you are, and you’ve got this, son.”
Even if I’m not his son, I like Harrison, and I hope he’s right.
I climb into the ring, and the ref walks to the center. Izzy bounces forward too, the scowl lines deep on his face.
“Alright guys, you know the rules,” the referee says. “Now’s the time to bump fists if you want to.”
I hold out my hand, but Izzy’s scowl deepens and he bounces back to his side. What an idiot. At least I won’t feel so bad taking him out.
The ref claps his hands and we’re off. The UFC brass wants something showy? Fine. I won’t dance around. I shoot forward and slam a jab into his jaw. It snaps his head back.
And it feels good. Really good.
I think about this guy—who wouldn’t bump hands—and I feel myself sinking into the anger. “Hey Blackbeard,” I say. “You were too afraid to bump my fists?”
He snarls and swings for me.
I duck and dance sideways, then I plant one on his back, sending him sprawling. If I was Justin, I’d throw him into a lock, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s not why they took a chance on an old novice. So I give the people what they want.
I’ve been terrified for the past few weeks, scared that I was outgunned, heading into the fight of my life. But this isn’t that. This is fun. This is easy. I run Izzy all over the ring. Up, down, sideways. I knock him pretty good in his jaw again, and he spits blood on the mat.
It’s hard to smile around the thick mouthpiece, but I manage to do it.
And he throws a shoulder into my side, knocking me off balance, and wraps his arm around my head. It’s the first part of a guillotine choke. Thousands of people screaming, but I hear her through it all.
Anica’s shout is pure terror. She’s worried about me.
I duck and roll, tossing that stupid pirate off my back before he can lock it in. And then I do something I’d never do in a boxing ring. I hammer into him where he’s lying on the ground until the ref calls me off. He’s unconscious.
I’ve won.
I climb out of the ring in a sort of daze.
“One round!” My dad is screaming louder than anyone else. “That was the most exciting five minutes of my life!”
“And the worst five minutes of mine.” Anica’s arms wrap around my neck, unconcerned about the sweat and blood spatter, apparently. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“I told you I’d be fine.”
She kisses me then. Not for nearly long enough, but it’s a start. I pick her up and swing her around, and then I kiss her again. “I want to get out of here,” I murmur against her mouth. “Please?”
“Everyone is so happy! We can’t just leave.”
For the first time, I really look behind me, and I notice that James and Paisley, Trudy and Paul, and Mary and Luke are all milling around behind Anica and Ana and my dad, cheering like lunatics.
“Fine. We celebrate for a bit, and then we leave.”
She leans her forehead against mine. “Fine.”
If I’d known that ‘a bit’ would turn into almost two hours, I’d have pushed back harder. Between the press and Harrison and our friends, it feels like we’re trying to leave a high school reunion turned family wedding. But finally, we extricate ourselves. I shower the second I get home and then Anica and I head to dinner.
“Please tell me you can eat bread again,” she says.
I laugh. “As much as I want.”
“Are you done, then?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure, but they never stack fights much closer than a month apart. So even if I’m not, I’ve earned a cheat meal or two.”
She sighs.
“Do you hate it?”
“Not at all,” she says. “You were amazing, and clearly you enjoyed it. It’s phenomenal you can do that, any of it.” She squeezes my hand. “And it’s so freaking hot. But. . . ”
“But what?”
“I want more Ethan time.”
“You’ve been writing,” I say. “Right?”
“I have, actually.” Her shoulders relax a bit. “Avon just approved the manuscript I sent, and I started a new one.”
“Another IP project? Or is this Ashes?”
She shakes her head. “Not Ashes, and not another IP project either. This is something new. The idea just kind of came to me.”
“Oh yeah?”
She swallows. “It’s kind of stupid.”
“Try me.”
“It’s about this guy who’s a researcher so he’s super nerdy, right?”
“Please tell me this isn’t supposed to be based on me.”
She giggles. “Well, he works in California, and whenever he’s not working, he’s surfing.”
I roll my eyes, but secretly I’m glad to find that I’m in there somewhere. “Go on.”
“Well, he submits a paper, but this person, H.J. Keenan, tears it apart.”
“Okay.”
“He’s so angry that he pulls up that person’s papers and picks one. Then he tears it apart in the same publication.”
“And?”
“Of course they meet at a conference, and he’s shocked that it’s a girl. And he hates her on sight.”
“And she feels the same way about him.”
“Right.”
“And then?” I pull into the parking lot of the steakhouse and shove the Bronco into park.
“Well, she gets a research grant, but the person who’s assigned to work with her on it—”
“Let me guess. It’s me?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, it’s the love interest’s sister. She’s also a scientist.”
“Wait, what?”
“So they end up bumping into each other a lot. He decides to really make her pay for the back and forth they’ve had and get her kicked off the project. But—”
I kiss her then. “Stop,” I say. “You can’t tell me any more or it’ll ruin the story when I read it.”
“You don’t think it sounds idiotic?”
“Not at all.”
“Oh, good. I’m seven chapters in already.” She’s so much happier when she’s writing.
“Will you quit waitressing?”
“When?” She opens her door and heads for the entrance.
“After you get a new agent and sell this one for a bunch of money.”
“Stop,” she says. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious.”
“If that did happen, which it won’t, I don’t think I would.”
“No?”
“I’d see if I could do part time,” she says. “Because I like working at Golden Gloves, and not only because it’s close to where you’re training. It’s nice to do something that helps people and to interact with customers, and to see regular families and couples and kids. I think it helps my writing, honestly. Sometimes the conversations and fights and dynamics inspire me too.”
“Really?”
She shrugs. “Writing can be kind of solitary. It’s nice to be forced out of my room and into the real world.”
The hostess seats us right away, and thankfully, no one seems to have followed us here.
After we order, Anica gets quiet. Strangely quiet. “Is something wrong?” Even though she said she loved me, and even though I won the fight, something feels off.
She grimaces, and I know it’s not all in my head.
“You can tell me,” I say. But I hope it’s nothing, because for the first time in a long time, my life is right where I want it to be.
“What’s up with you and your sister?”
My hand freezes on my napkin. “Did Adriana say something?”
“What would she have said?” She tilts her head sideways.
For the first time since we met, I feel like I’m being interrogated. “I don’t know. Ana talks about a lot of stuff.”
“You two aren’t right,” Anica says. “That much was clear. What did you fight about?”
I sigh. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“That’s fair,” she says. “But I don’t know how to act around her if I don’t know why she’s mad at you. I feel like this has something to do with your mom and your bio father. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But if you love me, you need to know that you can talk to me when you want to.”
She’s right. Love is trust. I’ve never told anyone else, but maybe she’d understand. I’m suddenly desperate for her to tell me that I’m right—that I did exactly what I should have to protect my sister.
But what if she doesn’t agree?
I look into her wide, trusting eyes, and I take a leap. “My bio father is named Phillip Sims. He beat me and my mom when he drank too much, but he hit my mom a lot more often than he hit me. One night, he beat her pretty severely. I should have stepped in to distract him, but I didn’t. I had class pictures the next day and the year before, I had missed them. Mom kept me home because of a black eye. I told myself that’s why I didn’t try and stop him, but really, I think maybe I didn’t want him to hit me.”
Anica closes her eyes.
“He killed my mom that night. I could’ve stopped him, distracted him, something, but I didn’t.” I stare down at the tablecloth. “He went to prison and I never looked back.”
She opens her eyes and stands up. She pulls me up until I’m standing beside her and then she wraps her arms around me. She doesn’t say anything, but tears roll down her face. “I’m sorry.”
We’re still standing up when our food comes.
Anica doesn’t even look embarrassed. She simply sits down, wipes her cheeks with her napkin, and places her hand over mine. They leave our plates and walk away.
“None of that is your fault,” she says. “Which you either know already, or you won’t accept no matter how many times I say it.”
“I know it’s not my fault that Phillip did that,” I say. “But I also know that I could have changed the outcome.”
“When we let bad people blame us for their actions, the world is a little dimmer. Don’t let his evil steal your light—or your life. Not a second of it.”
Something about what she says shakes the bands around my heart loose. It’s nothing dramatic, but I breathe a little easier. I smile a little brighter. And she’s right. Maybe I’ve been letting it steal my light, and I know Phillip has stolen too much of my time. And my sister’s. I finally realize that she’ll get it—why I needed to get rid of him, for my and Adriana’s good.
They bring the dessert tray and Anica waves them off. “You can get something,” she says, “but I’m stuffed.”
I shake my head. “Can we get the check?”
“But why is your sister mad?” she asks. “I’m really happy to know about Phillip.” She bites her lip. “Happy isn’t the right word. I’m honored you shared. Does that make sense?”
I nod.
“But what does that have to do with Adriana?”
“So, this part is not as horrifying, but it’s a little . . . dicier.”
“What does that mean?” She quirks one eyebrow.
“I threw away every letter Phillip sent me the entire time he was in prison, but apparently my sister didn’t. My dad knew she was talking to him and arranged to get Phillip out early so I could meet with him before she showed up to welcome him into the free world. I tried to convince him to leave her alone.”
“That’s why you came back to Atlanta.”
I nod. “He’s not as scary as he was. In fact, he’s kind of broken and pathetic.”
“Eighteen years in prison,” Anica says, like it’s no surprise. “I’m sure those years took a toll.”
“I guess so.”
The check comes and I pay. She doesn’t ask anything else while we walk out to the car, but she knows I’m not done.
Once we’re both seated, I continue. “Phillip refused to leave her alone.”
“He badgered her?” Anica sounds surprised.
“Well, no, but she wouldn’t agree not to see him. She yelled at me for my interference, and she got his information and found him.”
“What did he do?”
“He met her, for at least one dinner and one lunch, as far as I know. She wasn’t very forthcoming with me about any of it, but obviously he didn’t tell her that he didn’t want to see her.” For some reason this is coming out all wrong. I sound like the bad guy as much as he does.
“So Adriana and Phillip talked.”
“Right. Then he called me for a job, because he still couldn’t find one, and I told him I’d get him one.”
“You did?” She frowns. “If he did what?” She’s too smart for her own good.
“If he would tell Adriana he didn’t want to see her any more.”
She groans. “Ethan. Please tell me he said no.”
My lips twist. “He did.”
“Oh good.”
“He killed my mom, Anica.” She must not understand what kind of person he is.
“Twenty years ago,” she says. “And he paid for that by going to prison.”
“She’s dead,” I say flatly. “He can’t pay for what he did. Not ever.”
Anica’s shoulders are stiff, and her eyebrows are scrunched.
“You think I should have gotten him a job?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think you owe him anything.”
“Okay, then.”
“But I think you owe Adriana something.”
“You’re kidding me.” I slam my hand against the edge of the steering wheel.
She flinches. “I am not teasing you, clearly, and you can’t frighten me into agreeing with you, either. I don’t care how awesome you are at laying people out flat.”
I inhale and exhale a few times. “I’m not trying to scare you.”
“I love you, Ethan. Completely. But it’s because I love you that I’m going to say this. You were wrong to try to take Adriana’s choices away from her.”
“Phillip—”
“You said yourself that you don’t know him. You said he’s broken. But Adriana is an adult, and she’s smart, and she can make her own decisions. Your job is not to take that away from her. If he hurts her, that’s on him. You can tell her your beliefs, your thoughts, and your desires, but you have to step back and let her decide what to do with that.”
I grit my teeth.
She quiets suddenly. “I know you’re upset about all that, but there’s more to the story you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”
“He didn’t take the offer of a job, but he did take the Porsche.”
I’ve never heard Anica swear. Until right now.
“I didn’t make him do it,” I say. “He said my dad tried to pay him off too, but he didn’t take it back then. He said he was taking it now because it was the right thing to do—to leave her alone.”
“I’m glad that the Mayor of Evil has given you his stamp of approval for your actions.”
“What does that mean?” I realize that I’ve driven her straight to Mary and Luke’s and I park the car on the curb.
“Ethan.” She turns to face me. “You’re a brilliant man. I want you to think about this long and hard. Forgiveness isn’t for the person you’re forgiving. It’s for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’ve been raised to believe that we should forgive people who do something to us . . . as though it’s some gift for them. My sister Lizzie taught me this. She married an engineering genius, but she was, emotionally, the smartest person I’ve ever known. She said, from her deathbed, that we forgive others for ourselves. If we don’t do it, if we hold on to that anger against someone who hurt us, it will eat us up from the inside out. It will destroy us.”
I want to hurl something through something else. I want to crush the steering wheel to dust. “What are you saying?”
“I hope you’re not so emotionally flooded right now that you can’t remember my words. What I’m saying, Ethan, is that while I love you, I no longer trust you. If you would do something like that to your sister, if you would take her decisions away under the label of protection, then you don’t know how to love in a healthy way.” She inhales deeply and her voice trembles. A tear runs down her cheek. “I’m saying, Ethan Trainor, that until you are able to understand this and my faith that you’ll never try to control me, or frankly your sister, is restored, we’re breaking up.” She flips the car door open before I can stop her and sprints toward the house.
