Page 54 of Hate It with You

Breathless, my voice shaking, I turn to him. “What the fuck is your problem today?”

His eyes go wide. “My problem?”

“Yeah, your problem.” I sigh, still working to catch my breath. When he remains steady, it only irritates me more.

“I’ve been taking it easy on you. I’ve decided you’re ready for some real training,” he says it so matter-of-factly as though this was the agreed-upon plan all along.

“I was only looking for a few self-defense tips, not a full lesson on how to fight. I don’t need to know any of this shit. I’m hitting more than hard enough.” I wave my hand out at the area around us, my aggravation needing a place to go.

Something dark passes through his gaze, his jaw ticking again. He takes a step toward me, his tone seething with irritation. “You want to know why I fight, Beth? For protection. It’s a vital skill to have and one you can’t properly perform if you aren’t hitting hard enough. I thought someone in your situation would appreciate the push.”

I’m taken aback by his forwardness. “My situation? What do you know about my situation?”

“A lot more than you would think. My parents dying isn’t the only fucked-up thing that happened in my childhood. I wish you’d take this more seriously.” He sighs, the dark expression in his eyes now replaced with worry.

“I am taking this seriously. I’m here, aren’t I?” I throw my hand out to my side. He can’t possibly know the details of “my situation” off one note. For all he knows, that could’ve been left by an old friend of mine as an inside joke.

There’s a stale moment of pause that passes between us before he says, “Session is over. We’ll pick back up when you’re willing to put in actual work.” He turns his back toward me, picking up my gloves from the bench and taking them to their rightful cubby on the other side of the punching bag.

Not interested in hearing what he has to say next, I grab my keys and head out through the back room of his gym. I leave the door to the stairwell open as I stomp up the stairs, hoping he hears how angry I am with him.

Once inside my apartment, I take the time to shower, eat a light breakfast, and force myself to read a chapter before I put my book to the side and sit in my rage.

Recently, I made the decision to close my bookstore to the public on Sundays. I wasn’t getting the foot traffic I needed, and I figured it’d give me a day to relax, recharge, and hopefully find ways to drum up new business.

As I sit in my reading chair, staring at my empty bookshelves, I’m faced with the reality that I have no idea what I’m doing. Alex and I usually train on Sundays, which take up a good chunk of the morning, but considering this session was cut short, I’m left with extra time I’m unsure of what to do with.

I pick up my book three more times before I decide I’m too pent-up to focus on anything other than my current situation. Taking a look around my apartment, I’m moments away from falling into a deep self-pity party before my eyes land on the camera near my bedroom door. The one Alex never plugged in.

I’m not sure what got into Alex this morning, but maybe he’s as pent-up as I am. Maybe he needs to be taught a lesson for pushing me so hard in today’s session.

22

ALEX

Once I cleaned up from my training session with Beth, I made my way back to my office. The small room is tucked away in the back room of my gym. I’ve tried to distract myself with mountains of paperwork as Tiffany handles foot traffic for the rest of the day.

In an effort not to be disturbed, I’ve closed the door and shut the blinds covering the small window carved into the wood. I’m hoping this will allow myself time to focus on my work and get past this morning’s spat. I was able to get a couple of new clients in the past few weeks. It’s nothing compared to the business I used to see here, but it’s a start.

Hopefully these clients will take training more seriously than Beth decided to today.

It wasn’t my intention to get so frustrated with her, but I couldn’t help it. Knowing how to fight doesn’t mean shit if you don’t know how to hit hard and use force behind your punches.

I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t see something that I did. Most would call me observant. My brothers would call me obsessive. I’ve noticed the notes; I’ve noticed the look in her eyes and the way she freezes under my hold when we’re training.

Beth is scared, much in the same way I was when I was a kid. Despite that, though, I can see the fire in her. All it’s going to take is a little ignition for her to reach her full potential. For her to snap out of her freeze response. The same way that I did.

When I read that note over her shoulder the other night, I wanted to do nothing more than find the person responsible. I’d assume the person the note was referring to was me, but I don’t give a fuck. What I care about is how quickly Beth pulled back afterward. She’s never going to open up to me if this continues.

I thought that taking her training more seriously would help increase her confidence and strengthen her ability to handle whatever she has going on. As I sit alone at my desk, I’m afraid my plan only pushed her away further.

I’m working on my new clients’ training plans when my phone pings with a notification. Unlocking the screen, a new camera alert pops up, indicating a new connection to the surveillance app.

That didn’t take her long.

Curious, I pull up the camera feeds on my laptop and notice a new feed labeled “Bedroom.” The same label I used for the camera that I had left by Beth’s bedroom door.

Sure enough, a feed of her bedroom pops up, the side of her bed dead center in frame. I pop in one of my earbuds, and a rustling sound comes from the other end.