14. Chapter 14

Bradley clutched my hand tight as we walked into Imperial Gym. Despite the conversation we'd had about exclusivity, I wasn't sure how he felt about public displays of affection. Then again, our current stance completely put that question to bed.

Though we'd been away from the place for just shy of two weeks, it felt like the whole world had flipped one hundred and eighty degrees. The place still smelled of sweat and rubber, there were still dozens of people scattered amongst the equipment. And still, in the centre of the room, in the boxing ring, stood Jason. And a young man who looked a little like Bradley, if Bradley was much skinnier and about a decade younger.

"Diego! Jason!" I shouted with a wave. They both turned to look at us, and Jason's eyes immediately dropped to mine and Bradley's clasped hands.

"I was trying t enter with a little fanfare as possible," Bradley said.

"I know," I replied, dragging him toward the ring. I directed my attention to the two men standing in the midst of it. "How's training?"

Jason shifted awkwardly as he looked between Bradley and Diego, but a smile played on his lips. "I think with a lot of work, we could have another successful pro boxer on our hands."

"Yeah?" the excitement in Bradley's voice was palpable. "Where do you sit, Diego? Lightweight?"

"Super-lightweight," he clarified.

Bradley held out his hands to Jason, who handed over the pads. "Show me what you got, kid."

I caught Jason's eye, silently signalling that we should get out of there, and he nodded. We headed out of the ring and across the floor. As we walked, he stopped occasionally to give a pointer to someone who was working hard on their technique, or to stop a couple of kids who were getting a little too rough in their punches.

We walked into the kitchen together, and I went through the routine of making tea.

"Feels like it's been years since you were last here," said Jason.

"You seem to be holding down the fort in my absence."

"On the training side, yes. But the fridges are empty, I don't know how to pay the energy bill and I think one of the showers is broken and I don't know who we use for plumbing." Jason gestured around him. "Bradley brings in the money, I train our boxers, but you keep this place running."

The bills were all set up via Direct Debit, but I made a mental checklist of everything else. "I don't know if Bradley and I will be around for a couple more weeks, so I'll have the protein delivery scheduled. Do you think it's worth setting up a little self-sufficiency class?"

"How do you mean?"

"I've always cooked for Bradley. But not all these people are going to be Bradley. And lots of them are from disadvantaged backgrounds. So, if we can get a chef in to teach them to cook simple, healthy meals for themselves…" I drummed my finger across the counter. "…don't worry about answering. We're doing it."

With the tea finished, I claimed one for myself and passed the other to Jason. He held it by the handle, remaining completely silent. He just looked at me.

"Alright, what?" I asked.

"Bradley. And you. You and Bradley," Jason teased.

"Oh."

"Yes, ‘oh.'" Jason blew gently on the cup of tea. "What happened there? Or rather what is happening there?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "I think we just…did what we've both wanted to do for long enough."

"Finally." Jason let out an exasperated sigh. "Do you have it locked down then? Are you ‘going steady?'"

"You've spent way too long training twenty-year-old fighters," I laughed. "'Going steady?'"

"Hush. Tell me."

"…it only started two days ago," I admitted. "But I think we're both pretty serious about it. If I was going to get sick of him, surely it would have been in the last three years?"

"I think you two have been doing this dance around each other for years. And I've no doubt you have something special going on."

"How about you?" I deflected. "Any special lady in your life?"

Jason shook his head. "Boxing is my wife. No one else matters."

My phone buzzed, and I took it out of my pocket. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Sophia," said the voice at the end of the line. I recognised her straight away as Bradley's tattoo artist. "I've been trying to get a hold of Bradley for his next tattoo. It was due tomorrow and he booked direct, but I've heard nothing from him."

I rolled my eyes. I had seen his unread emails pile. "Send me the design and I'll double check if he still wants to get it. I think he has a…victory thing. So if he's not keen on tomorrow, I'll send you payment over in full."

"Thanks," said Sophia. "It's the most personal one yet, so I want to do it justice."

I hung up the phone and looked at Jason. "Personal? How can boxing terminology be personal? Is uppercut personal?"

Jason choked on his tea as I opened my emails to check the picture.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Me? Fine. Fine, I promise. But should you really be looking at what Bradley is having on his arm? It is personal."

"It will literally be on his skin tomorrow, so it's not exactly a secret," I muttered. I tapped my foot as I waited for the image to load. "His last fight was in Cardiff, so I have no idea if he'll choose English or Welsh. I speak a little Welsh, though I wish I spoke more…"

The image loaded, and stopped me in my tracks. A daffodil, growing daintily around the two swirling, scripted words. My Welsh might have been rudimentary, but I definitely understood that. "What the fuck?"

I wasn't even aware of relaxing my grip until the mug smashed against the linoleum, shattering into pieces and sending hot tea splashing the bottom of my trousers. "Fuck, sorry, Jase. I need…I need to speak to Bradley."

I walked out of the kitchen in a daze. What the fuck? Why had Bradley been lying to me about his tattoos — such a tiny, trivial thing — for the last three years? And why did it seem like Jason was in on it?

I approached the canvas in the middle of the floor, where I'd left the two men sparring.

Whack. Whack. Bam.The familiar sounds of the boxing gym surrounded me, giving me a weird confidence I didn't always possess. The ring might be Bradley's domain, but I had helped keep this place running for three years. It was my home.

Bradley only noticed me as I boldly climbed through the ropes, halting Diego's punches with a single hand. They were both sweating, wearing boxing gloves and sparring helmets. He pulled off the helmet and looked at me quizzically.

"Have you been lying to me?" I asked him. His brows furrowed. And then he saw the phone in my hand, and the design on the screen. "This is not a boxing term. I know what it says. And I've no idea why you would tell me it was something else. Unless there's something you've been hiding? Someone?"

Bradley groaned and dropped his head into his gloved hands. I wanted to walk toward him, to comfort him. But something felt off. Diego retreated slowly into the corner, and I could see Jason on the floor at the other side of the ring.

"What does it say?" Bradley whispered.

"You know damn well what it says, and it is nothing to do with your career," I said, my blood beginning to boil.

"Then tell me. What does it say?" he pressed. "Finish with me afterward if you think it's strange, or way too fucking creepy."

I looked down at the design again. Caru ti. "It's Welsh for ‘I love you,' Bradley. And I know we're early on in our…whatever this is, but I think I should know if you're getting tattoos that declare your love for someone."

Bradley choked out a hollow laugh, and took a step closer, then another, shedding his gloves as he approached. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am. I should have told you."

"Yes, you fucking should have." I wiped at an errant tear, and then Bradley's fingers were touching me, lifting my chin to make me look him in the eye.

"Arthur. There is no one else. Just me being a pathetic, creepy sap." Bradley pointed at the top tattoo, the one he had gotten after the first fight we'd seen together. "Dublin, three years ago: Is breá liom tú. I love you. Istanbul, two and a half years ago: Seni seviyorum. I love you."

He pointed at the Japanese text he'd had inked on his arm a year ago. "I can't even pronounce this. And yet all of these words mean the same. Nothing to do with boxing. They all mean I love you. I'm glad you're scared it was about someone else. Because there's never been anyone else. I've been tattooing my love for you on my skin since the day we met."

"What?" I stroked down his arm, my finger following every line and curve of script. All those languages. All those expressions of love. "All for me?"

"All for you," he echoed. "Has it…fuck, has it scared you off?"

"You're joking, right?" I asked. "All this for me…it's overwhelming, yeah. But it reaffirms how I feel about you."

"God, I could have done without you finding out so early," Bradley sighed. I love you, but I don't want to pressure you into—"

"I love you too," I confessed. "You know I have. For years."

Bradley leaned down and kissed me, shamelessly, right there in the middle of the ring, his lips tasting of salt from the workout he'd been doing. And I kissed him back. I completely forgot we were in public, standing exactly where we'd first met. Until he pulled back and shouted out, "Get back to work, all of you! This place doesn't smell enough of sweat since I took a week off!"

Shuffling filled the space as people scurried away, and watched as Jason ducked under the ropes. "Glad to see you two figured it out," he said.

"Just about," laughed Bradley. He didn't let go. "Diego, C'mere. Don't worry, I'm not asking you to get in on the action."

"Wouldn't be offended if you did," Diego quipped as he approached. I gave him an appreciative once over, and Bradley's hand came up to cover my eyes.

"Jason, I think we can get Diego up a weight class and get him on the undercard of a couple of fights using my connections. He'll be wasted in super-lightweight, so if we can get him heavy enough for lightweight, his speed might surprise his opponents there. Add a food allowance to his stipend."

"I take it you're planning on getting more involved in training, then?" asked Jason with a smile.

"I've got to do something. And I should be giving back." Bradley turned to look around, dropping his grip but staying within centimetres of me. "I bought this gym six years ago to focus on my training, but to train the next generation of young athletes too. I've focused too much on me since. I reckon we could make this the next great boxing gym."

"I'll put you on the rota for Monday then," I muttered. "You can work your way up. Start by cleaning toilets."

"Piss off," he snickered. "Tomorrow, I'm getting my commitment to you permanently inked on my skin. The day after, you better have booked us a villa in Mexico, the Maldives, anywhere beginning with M. And then in two weeks' time, I'll be back to start making a difference. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a plan, boss," I grinned.

"You're the boss around here," Jason pointed at me.

"Oh, I know."