I’m going to have to do something about my mood before then, so the kids don’t think I’m being forced to teach them a few things. It’s not their fault I’ve fallen hard for a woman I’ve never met, know nothing about, and never actually spoken to.
“Awesome,” Charley says. “But I’ve got to ask, mate.”
“What?”
“Rachel….”
Despite the intensity gripping me – fiercer each second – I chuckle.
It’s just like Charley to latch onto that. Since moving back to England and opening his gyms, he’s married, had kids, and started a new chapter in his life.
I’ve done none of that. He’s always fishing to see if I’ll follow his lead.
“She was the online advisor for the cable company,” I tell him. “So calm down.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them, even if it’s probably the best thing to say.
It feels disrespectful to Rachel to describe her like that, even if it’s completely accurate. But it’s like I’m leaving out so many important details and pieces of who she really is.
Of who she really is.
I bite down, suppressing a laugh. Or maybe it’s something else. Maybe if I didn’t clench my teeth so hard I’m sure I could shatter them, I’d roar. I’d beat my chest and howl like the animal I feel like I’m becoming.
I was a beast in the boxing ring, but I never felt like a beast. I always felt in control, focusing on technique, my breathing, and the flow state.
This is something else.
“Mate?” Charley says after a long pause.
“Yeah?” I sit on a bench, Rusty padding over and sitting on the ground near me. “Why do I feel like you’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear?”
He chuckles. “What makes you say that?”
“I’ve known you too long. You’ve got about ten different ways of saying, mate. Some are questions. Some are like fuck-yous. The way you said it just now, it’s the same as when you told me my uppercut would get me killed.”
“Lucky you listened to me too,” he replies, laughing. “Your chin used to point straight up when you threw that. Ramirez would’ve sent you into space.”
I return his laughter, able to reminisce about old times. For a second, it’s like this mania hasn’t touched me. It’s like I can let Rachel go.
But I don’t want to let go. And, even if I did, I can’t. She’s always there, teasing me from the edges of my mind, whispering to me, taunting, beckoning.
“So?” I ask.
“I just feel like something’s up,” Charley says. “I don’t want to play the therapist. And I know you hate talking about your feelings. But you can, you know, if something’s happened.”
I grind my teeth, watching as a woman walks by with her poodle strutting next to her. The woman gives me a look, her eyebrows raised, a smile on her lips. She’s young, tall, and thin, and she’s not leaving much to the imagination.
Another man might want her. Another man might feel a flicker of desire, at least.
But she’s nothing, nothing compared to my Rachel.
“Nothing’s happened,” I grumble. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
Why did I have to add that last bit?
Obviously, Charley’s going to want to know what I mean.
Fine, screw it. It’s not like he will get me locked up in an asylum. Even if he maybe should.
I tell him quickly what happened, starting with first seeing her photo, then the banter.
“And then the chat dropped out,” I finish. “I tried to reconnect, but I couldn’t get her as an advisor. They wouldn’t pass me along to her or give me any more information. It’s apparently against their policy.”
“Probably so psychotic retired boxers don’t start stalking their employees,” Charley jokes. He quickly adds, “Sorry, mate. That was too much.”
“Don’t worry,” I smirk. “I’m used to your humor. Anyway, I agree. It’s a good policy.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Charley says. “Are you saying you’re…what, in love with this woman?”
Yes.
I push the answer down deep, so far away even I can’t properly consider it. Everything is complicated enough without heaping that on top of it.
“We’ve never even spoken,” I tell him.
It’s a non-answer, but I don’t give a damn.
“But you’d like to.”
“Yeah. I would. I know it makes no sense.”
Charley whistles softly. “Honestly, Ryland, I don’t care if it makes sense.”
“What?”
“Who gives a shit?” he goes on. “I haven’t heard you like this…ever, not once. I’ve never heard you get this excited, obsessed, or whatever you want to call it about a woman. I think you should go for it.”
“How?” I grunt.
I’m trying to keep my tone dark, distant, and even cold.
That way, I don’t have to let Charley hear how profoundly his words are affecting me. So he won’t hear how much his support means to me.
He won’t hear how hungrily I want to pursue this woman, my dream girl, my Rachel.