Chapter 32: Knot Happening Again: Chapter 32

The punching bag swings wildly as I unleash a flurry of jabs. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes. I blink it away, focusing on the rhythm of my fists against the leather.

‘There you are.’

Mace’s gruff voice cuts through the steady thump of my punches. I pause, steadying the bag with one hand as I turn to face him.

‘Hey, big guy. What’s up?’

He crosses his arms, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance. ‘You tell me. Haven’t seen much of you lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were still in that self-imposed exile of yours.’

I grab my towel, wiping the sweat from my face. ‘Just been busy. You know how it is.’

Mace snorts. ‘Busy avoiding Ophelia, you mean.’

My jaw clenches at the mention of her name. ‘I’m giving her space to settle in.’

‘Space?’ Mace raises an eyebrow. ‘There’s space, and then there’s the Sahara, Leon. Which one are you aiming for?’

I turn away, pretending to adjust the wraps on my hands. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘Bullshit.’ Mace’s voice is sharp. ‘She said she wanted you to stay with the pack. So act like pack, even if you aren’t living there.’

I spin to face him, frustration bubbling up. ‘And do what, exactly? Play happy families? Pretend I didn’t fuck up her life?’

Mace’s expression softens slightly. ‘No one’s asking you to pretend anything. But avoiding her isn’t helping either of you.’

I run a hand through my sweat-damp hair, sighing. ‘I know. I just don’t know how to face her.’

‘Start small,’ Mace says. ‘Come over for dinner tonight. It’s a start.’

I hesitate, but the look in Mace’s eyes tells me this isn’t a request. ‘Fine. I’ll be there.’

Mace nods, satisfied. ‘Good. Now, how about we work off some of that tension? I could use a sparring partner.’

A grin tugs at my lips despite myself. ‘You sure about that, old man? Wouldn’t want to wear you out before dinner.’

Mace’s eyes narrow. ‘Watch it, kid. I can still kick your ass six ways to Sunday.’

We move to the mat, circling each other. Mace throws the first punch, which I dodge easily. We fall into a familiar dance, trading blows and blocks.

‘So,’ Mace says between jabs, ‘you ready for the big match?’

I duck under his swing, countering with a quick uppercut that he blocks. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be. Jace is tough, but I’ve got his number.’

Mace grunts as he absorbs a body shot. ‘Don’t get cocky. He’s been training hard.’

‘So have I,’ I retort, narrowly avoiding Mace’s right hook.

We continue sparring, our conversation punctuated by the sound of fists meeting flesh and the occasional grunt of exertion.

‘You know,’ Mace says, his breath coming a bit heavier now, ‘the others have been asking about you.’

I falter for a moment, and Mace takes advantage, landing a solid hit to my ribs. I stumble back, wincing.

‘Low blow, big guy.’

Mace shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic. ‘All’s fair in love and war. And this? This is both.’

I shake my head, falling back into my stance. ‘It’s not that simple.’

‘It never is,’ Mace agrees. ‘But that doesn’t mean you stop trying.’

We continue our sparring match, but my mind is elsewhere. Images of Ophelia flash through my head—er piercing blue eyes, the way her raven hair falls around her face, the curve of her lips when she smiles. And then, the hurt and anger in her eyes when she saw me again after all these years.

Distracted, I miss blocking Mace’s next punch. It connects solidly with my jaw, sending me stumbling backward. I lose my footing and hit the mat hard.

Mace stands over me, concern etched on his face. ‘You okay?’

I nod, rubbing my jaw. ‘Yeah, just… lost focus for a second.’

He extends a hand, helping me to my feet. ‘That’s what I’m worried about. You can’t afford to lose focus like that in the ring, Leon. Not with Jace.’

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Ophelia. ‘I know. It won’t happen again.’

Mace gives me a long look. ‘You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, you’ve got a lot on your mind. And Ophelia’s right at the top of that list.’

I turn away, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long drink. ‘I can handle it.’

‘Can you?’ Mace’s voice is quiet but intense. ‘Because I’ve seen what happens when fighters bring their personal shit into the ring. It never ends well.’

I spin to face him, anger flaring. ‘What do you want me to do, Mace? I can’t pretend none of this is happening.’

‘I’m not asking you to,’ Mace says, his tone softening. ‘I’m asking you to deal with it. Head-on. Stop running, stop avoiding. Face it.’

I let out a long breath, the fight draining out of me. ‘I don’t know how.’

Mace puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘Like I said, start by coming to dinner tonight. Now, how about we go a few more rounds? Work on that focus of yours.’

We fall back into our sparring match, but this time, I force myself to stay present. To focus on Mace’s movements, on my own body, on the rhythm of our dance. It’s not easy—thoughts of Ophelia keep trying to creep in. Then again, she always was my own personally tailored distraction.

As we finish up, both of us breathing hard and covered in sweat, Mace gives me an approving nod. ‘Better. Keep that focus in the ring, and Jace won’t know what hit him.’

I manage a small smile. ‘Thanks, Mace. For everything.’

He waves it off. ‘That’s what pack is for. Now hit the showers. You’re a mess.’

I laugh, the sound feeling foreign in my throat. ‘Yes, sir.’

As I head to the locker room, my mind drifts back to Ophelia. The thought of seeing her tonight, of being in the same room as her, sends a mix of anticipation and dread coursing through me. But Mace is right—I can’t keep running. It’s time to face the music.

I strip off my sweat-soaked clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me. As I stand there, I try to prepare myself for tonight. What will I say to her? How will she react? The questions swirl in my mind, but I force them down. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.

For now, I need to focus on getting getting dressed, and making it to dinner. One step at a time. That’s all I can do.

As I turn off the water and reach for my towel, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The man staring back at me looks tired, uncertain. But there’s something else there too—a determination I haven’t seen in a while.

For so long, I’ve been hiding this secret. I’ve been hiding the truth for so many years, I’ve lost track of who I was. Who I want to be. Maybe it’s time I started to remember.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Whatever happens tonight, whatever comes next with Ophelia and the pack, I’ll face it. I have to. For her, for them, and for myself.