I feel defeated, beaten up and bruised even though I technically won the fight tonight. But the man I want by my side won’t step into the ring with me. And that hurts more than anything—more than the psychological damage, more than the fear that this will happen again, and more than the idea that he should be holding me tonight, making me feel safe after terror ran through me just hours ago.
Chapter 32
Javier
“Javi, slow down!” Andre bellows over the sound of me punching the bag in front of me with all the strength I can muster this morning. I ignore his cry and continue to smash my hands against the leather.
“Javi!”
Another hit. Another swing. Another crack of my knuckles that gives me pain to focus on other than the gaping hole in my chest.
“Javi!” Two brawny arms shove me away from the bag as I tumble back on my feet and ultimately land on my ass.
Struggling to stand and catch my breath, I glare at Andre standing across from me. “What the fuck, Andre?”
“Jesus Christ, man. You’re gonna break your hand or give yourself a heart attack if you keep up that pace.”
“Whatever. Get out of my way.”
“No can do, Javi. You’re done. Go hit the showers.” He folds his arms across his broad chest and then widens his stance.
“You know what? Fuck you, Andre.” I storm off, headed for the locker room and a cold shower to cool myself down. But apparently Andre wasn’t finished with our conversation.
“No, fuck you, Javi. You’ve been an asshole to the hundredth degree since the night you had dinner with Sydney’s parents, and quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of it. And so is your sister.”
I spin around to face him, seething with anger. “Then get the fuck away from me. No one said you had to follow me in here.”
“I know. But you’re my best fucking friend and you need a little tough love, so I’m going to give it to you.”
I roll my eyes as I strip off my shirt and shove it in my bag. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I’m sorry that her dad gave you a hard time, but can you honestly say you expected anything less?”
I don’t respond. Instead I wait for more because I know it’s coming.
“You knew what you were walking into that night, and even if he said some harsh shit, I’m baffled how you let one evening derail your entire relationship with her. It’s been two weeks and you’ve been sulking like a fucking coward, throwing yourself your own pity party because your girlfriend’s father didn’t like you.”
The last two weeks have been the longest in my life, and Andre is right—I have been sulking. There were stretches of time in prison where I literally felt like time was standing still—but these fourteen days without Sydney beside me have been the longest and loneliest of my life.
I have struggled with picking up the phone to call her so many times, wondering what she was doing, if she was thinking about me every second of the day like I was her, craving just the sight of her so I knew she was alright. I ate lunch at Russo’s every day last week hoping to run into her accidentally on purpose, but she never showed. And the longer I waited to contact her, the more I didn’t know what to say.
How do I explain why I’ve been cowering in my house at night, ashamed of letting her walk out of my door without fighting for her?
How do I get her to see that I let my insecurities get the best of me and I regret pushing her away with every fiber of my body?
How do I tell her that I love her so goddamn much that being without her has been the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but I know I have no one else to blame but myself for that?
I’m past the humiliation phase, the acceptance that our relationship has many obstacles ahead but I want her more than all of those. Now I’m in the self-loathing phase where I’m so disgusted in myself that I’m searching for punishment in every way possible and apparently taking it out on others too.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, if you’re this unhappy without her, then fucking fix it, because you are the one that has the power to do that. And until you pull your head out of your ass, you’re not allowed to punch a bag in my gym. The last thing I’m gonna do is watch you hurt yourself because you’re pissed off at the world.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get my heart rate back down. Sinking onto the bench in front of me, I grip my hair and tug, welcoming the sting. “I don’t know how to fix it, Andre. That’s part of my frustration, man.” I peer back up at him as we lock eyes. “Do I go to her dad’s house and tell him to fuck off? Do I show up at her door and apologize when I don’t even have a good enough reason for pushing her away in the first place other than I was an idiot? Or do I ask her to meet me somewhere to talk and hope to God that she shows up? I … I don’t know what to do.”
Andre huffs and then takes a seat next to me. “You know her better than I do, so think about what she would want. I don’t think confronting her dad is the right way to go, because if she does give you another chance, you’re going to have to figure out a way to get along with him in some way. But surprising her could backfire too. Look, it’s Saturday. Go home, relax, and try to come up with a game plan. Selena said if you cooled off and
