Without stopping, I reach behind my head, whip off my shirt, and toss it to a bench as I pass by it. I pull on the pair of bag gloves I grabbed from the glove box. The heavy black bag looms before me, welcoming the beating my fists are itching to give it.
Unbidden, an image of Theo locking his arms around Jules pops in my head. My molars grind together and with a snarl, I throw a jab at the bag. The sudden contact jostles my arm and pain radiates up to my shoulder. I welcome the discomfort, wanting more.
Another image forms of Theo’s lips parting over Jules’s as he slides his tongue against hers. I land another jab, followed by a cross.
Theo kissing down Jules’s neck as she tilts her head to the side. A hook, with an immediate cross behind it.
I throw punch after punch as visions fill my head of the two together, which only makes my rage even stronger. I have no right to feel possessive over a woman who belongs to someone else. It’s all for nothing anyway, because she’s in a coma, and if she hasn’t woken up in seven years, the chances of her waking now are practically nonexistent.
When I remember the fear and pain in Jules’s eyes, a roar reverberates from my chest, and I throw all my weight into the next punch and attack the bag like my life fucking depends on it. There is no worse feeling than helplessness.
I don’t know how long I stand there and beat the shit out of the bag, but I end up with my arms loosely wrapped around it, leaning my weight into it. My chest heaves from exertion and sweat slides down my temples and back. My muscles ache and the sharp pain in my lower back feels good.
A low whistle coming from behind me has me straightening and turning around. Abe is leaning back against one of the rings, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He’s as black as midnight, as big as a linebacker, and still as strong as an ox, despite being in his mid-sixties. He’s also not afraid to give it to you straight, is a no-bullshitter, and if you come into his gym, you respect him and his equipment, or he won’t hesitate to kick your ass to the curb.
“What has your panties in a twist?” he asks, moving away from his perch. He throws me a water bottle when he’s close enough, and I catch it. Twisting off the cap, I down half the bottle before walking over and grabbing my shirt to wipe away the sweat from my face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, instead of answering.
His eyes assess me critically, accepting my avoidance for the moment. It won’t last long.
“Damn arthritis woke me up. I heard your snarls and grumbles from upstairs and decided to check things out.”
I grunt and finish off the water. Abe owns this whole building, including the apartment upstairs, which is where he lives.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
After a moment of silence, my short reprieve is over.
“You gonna tell me what’s botherin’ you, boy? And don’t even try denyin’ it, ‘cause that beatin’ you were just givin’ that bag was aimed at someone.”
I crush the water bottle, then stalk over to the trash can and toss it. Walking over to a bench, I straddle it before looking back at Abe.
“I’m an asshole, that’s what.”
One of his brows rises in amusement. “That shit ain’t nothin’ new, but what makes you an asshole this time?”
Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the wall at my back, exhaustion suddenly hitting me.
“Theo’s married. Has been for years.”
“What the fuck?” he asks in disbelief.
I nod. “Yeah. I didn’t find out until a couple days ago.” I’m quiet for a moment, before admitting, “I’ve been dreaming about her for years, and I don’t know why. Tonight, I dreamed of them together, and I wanted to slaughter Theo for touching her.”
Abe’s low whistle sounds again, and I open my eyes. Both brows are now raised.
“Damn, boy. That is some fucked-up shit right there.”
Suppressing the growl wanting to slip free, I let my head fall back against the wall. “Yeah.”
Abe sighs. “Luca.” I lift my head again at his irritated use of my name. “Don’t beat yourself up over this shit. Feeling’ are something we have no control over. It’s obvious you don’t want to feel them, and as long as you don’t act on them, then you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”
A harsh laugh escapes my lips. “Even if I wanted to act on them, which I would never do to Theo, I couldn’t. She’s been in a coma for seven years.”
“Say what now?” he says incredulously.
“Apparently, they met and were going to run off together, but someone attacked her. No one knew about her. I only found out because I saw her in a hospital room and recognized her from my dreams.”
“Wait. So how have you been dreamin’ about her if you’ve only recently met her?”
I blow out a tired breath. “Fuck if I know.”
“That’s some weird unnatural shit.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
It turns silent after that. The fan for the heating unit clicks on and the air that hits me from above hasn’t had the chance to warm from the coils yet. It feels good against my sweaty chest.
I slip off my gloves and stand. I throw my shirt on and face Abe.
“I’m heading out. Thanks for letting me use the gym.”
“Anytime. That’s why you’ve got keys.”
I turn to leave, but him calling my name has me turning back.
“Get some sleep, Luca. You look like shit.”
“Fuck you, Abe,” I throw over my shoulder, then shoot him a bird the same way.
His deep laugh follows me all the way out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luca
I LAST FOR A WEEK AND a half. Ten days I went without seeing Jules, because it wasn’t my right to want to. Ten fucking days that nearly drove me insane. Nine nights lying in bed, wishing for her to come to me in my dreams, although it made me a bastard of the worst kind to want that, but selfishly not caring. If I couldn’t see her in person, I at least wanted some form of her, even if she did always look scared or in pain and begged me for something I still didn’t understand.
Ten days I went to work and tried to keep my mind off her. Ten days I left work and had to force myself to turn right down Tenth Street toward home instead of left toward the hospital. Only two of the nine nights she visited my dreams, but the ones she didn’t, I still woke up feeling drained and exhausted. I slept restlessly and couldn’t help but feel disappointed for the rest of the day, which put me in a piss-poor mood. People noticed, especially Ella.
“What in the fuck is your problem?” she yelled at me on the eighth day, after stepping in my office and slamming the door closed.
“Leave me alone, Ella,” I rumbled, as I stood behind my desk and pushed shit around looking for a specific drawing pen.
She put her hands on the hardwood surface and leaned over it, her voice dropping, but no less abrasive. “You’ve been a dick for days, Luca. Either fix what’s bothering you or stay in your fucking office and let Jazz and me take your clients. I’m tired of seeing people walk on eggshells around you.”
I stand to my full height and glower at her. “I said, leave me alone.”
Baring her teeth, she gritted out, “Too fucking bad. You’re my brother and I work for you, so when something bothers you, it bothers me. Either get over it or tell me what in the hell is going on.”
Before I was given a chance to reply, she stormed from the room, the door banging against the wall behind her. She was right. I was being an asshole, and that shit needed to stop.
I tried to push away the need to see Jules, but nothing fucking worked.
So, now, two days later, I’m walking down the hall to her room, not caring anymore if I should be here or not. The way I see it, Theo doesn’t visit as often as he should, something that still pisses me off, and a person shouldn’t be alone all the time, even if they don’t realize they are. It also piques my anger that Theo still hasn’t told anyone about Jules, something I plan to confront him about soon.