Chapter 174

“I could ask you the same question,” I replied.

Dylan might have been one of the more unconventional members of his class, but he still belonged to high society. I would have never expected him to frequent a place this seedy.

“The owner of this gym is a client of mine,” Dylan said. “I swing by here now and then when I’m sick of the high class parties. You’ve been to them. You know how trying they are.”

“I do… but this?”

One of the boxers in the ring landed a particularly gruesome punch on his opponent, whose nose started to bleed.

Dylan shrugged. “Human nature. Guys enjoy a good fight now and then.”

I didn’t know if I believed that, but I chose not to argue at this particular moment, being surrounded by men who likely thought the same as Dylan.

“Now that I’ve answered your question, it’s time to answer mine,” Dylan said. His gaze stretched from me to my friends. Megan waved hello. Maria ducked her head, seemingly embarrassed. Rachel was too busy to notice him, looking out over the rest of the gym.

“There’s a few open seats over there,” Rachel said. “We should sit down. We’d be more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Megan and Maria agreed.

“I’ll stay with you,” Dylan said. “In case Burt or another of his like get any more ideas.”

“Thanks,” Maria said softly.

To me, Dylan whispered, “You aren’t getting out of my question.”

With Rachel leading the way, we walked forward, pushing our way through the crowd and up onto the bleachers.

Just as we took to the crude metal stairs, one of the boxers knocked the other out clean. All of the onlookers jumped to their feet. Some cheered with victorious joy. Others groaned and griped with complaint. Many, including Burt, ripped up their betting tickets and threw them onto the floor.

Rachel led us to our seats, heading in first, and we all sat down. On the other side of Rachel sat a man who seemed to recognize her.

“You’re Russell’s girl, aren’t you?”

Megan gave Rachel another piercing look. Rachel blushed, but still replied to the man, “Yes, that’s right.”

Maria sat beside Megan, and I sat beside Maria. Dylan took the open spot on the other side of me. As soon as we were seated, he crossed his arms.

“Out with it, Hazel,” he said.

What could I tell him but the truth? As Logan’s friend, maybe he could help me convince him to see reason. Or, as Logan’s friend for longer, Dylan might have some insight into Logan’s strange behavior that could help us both.

“Logan wants to join a boxing league,” I said.

Dylan laughed and laughed. “Logan?” He laughed again. Eventually, when he noticed that I wasn’t laughing, he said, “You’re kidding. What’s the real reason?”

“That is the real reason,” I told him.

“Bullshit. Logan isn’t a coward, he’d fight if he had to, but there’s no way he’d actively seek out a fight,” Dylan said. “His grandfather would go ballistic.”

“I’m serious, unfortunately,” I said. “He’s been changing lately… It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

I did, explaining to Dylan about Logan’s strange sudden binge eating of junk foods, about the bitter and snide way he spoke to me, as well as this new desire to become a boxer and his refusal to explain why.

“It’s almost like he’s changing into a different person,” I said.

Dylan’s good humor was long gone. Instead, his expression had turned dire, his features tight.

“Do you have any idea what is happening to him?” I asked, pressing slightly.

Dylan inhaled and exhaled deeply. Then he spoke, “Sounds like the pressure is finally cracking him. I’ve been trying for years to help him crawl out from under his grandfather’s oppressive thumb, but he always told me he has it under control. Obviously not.”

Two new boxers enter the ring. An announcer calls their fake names big and brightly. The onlookers mill around at once, exchanging money, making bets.

“His grandfather wouldn’t approve of him being a boxer, even you said that,” I pointed out. “Why would his grandfather pressure him to do this?”

“He wouldn’t,” Dylan said. “But this is Logan’s act of rebellion. He can’t do shit with the company, and he has to keep you hidden away. I’d always figured he would lash out, but I’d hoped it would be something less dangerous. I guess I should have known. He did the same thing with the racecars.”

I remembered Logan telling me he used to race cars.

“His grandfather hated it,” Dylan said. “Back then, Logan had more freedom. That was before he accepted the job as his grandfather’s company. But he was starting to feel the noose around his neck. His grandfather was pressuring him to finish business school. Logan rebelled and raced cars instead. For a while. Eventually, his grandfather won out and he went back to school.”

The pattern continued here, it seemed.

“What can we do to stop him?” I asked. I hated to side with his grandfather on anything, but I didn’t want to see Logan hurt. I’d rather see him race in cars, which might also be dangerous but had safety measures involved. Boxing was bound to hurt him no matter how careful they were.

The nature of boxing was still to beat the other person into submission.

“You know how stubborn he is,” Dylan said.

“Even so. There must be some way to convince him.”

Beside me, Maria, Megan, and Rachel became invested in the fight in earnest. When a particularly hard blow was thrown, they winced and then cheered. Rachel even jumped to her feet.

“Get him!” she shouted. Her voice was swallowed up by like-minded cheers and jeers by the men sitting around us and throughout the gym.

From the look of the boxers, beaten and tired, one of them was likely to fall down soon.

“We’ll find a way to stop him, Hazel. You have my promise to help,” Dylan said to me. He leaned close and spoke loudly to be heard over the boisterous cacophony echoing in the large room.

At one point in my life, this closeness would have sent pleasant shivers through me. Dylan was a handsome man with a good head on his shoulders.

If I had fallen in love with him, things might have been easier for me. And maybe for Logan too.

But it was too late. My heart was Logan’s to do with as he would, even if he meant to eventually break it.

“Thank you, Dylan,” I said.

Together, we watched the end of the match. My friends, now totally invested, celebrated the victory of the boxer they had grown to like.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, even as my own stomach twisted, imagining Logan in these same fights, being punched and bleeding.

“Holy shit,” Maria said, suddenly sobering. She dropped her hand onto my shoulder and shook me. “Hazel. Shit, Hazel… You need to see this.”

“What?” I glanced up at her.

“Get up here, look.”

I pushed myself up onto my feet. “What is it?”

She pointed.

Following the length of her arm, I looked at where she was indicating and my breath caught. My heart stopped.

The next fighters were getting ready to come forward, standing now at the edge of the crowd.

“Logan,” I gasped.

“What?” Dylan said and immediately stood. “Oh, fuck.”

One of the boxers dressed to enter the ring next was my husband.

Logan wasn’t just thinking about joining a boxing league. He already had.

And he was about to fight.