Chapter 33

Gwen

”You”re with me, Peaches.”

I looked up in surprise as Butcher walked past. ”What do you mean?”

He just kept walking.

Seek shrugged her shoulders and bounced Sawyer in her arms, making him smile. ”I”ll keep an eye on the kids.”

All the women were sitting outside, watching, while the kids played on the playground. It was a gorgeous day in the middle of February. The mild winters were one of the reasons I loved living in Arizona. But we were all starting to feel a little cooped up. It had only been a few weeks of the lockdown, but we were used to going to work, and our kids” schools, and grocery shopping at will. Now we were stuck on the compound all day, every day. We were all going a little stir crazy.

Shoving to my feet, I hurried after Butcher. I caught up to him in the clubhouse and he pointed toward the hallway that led back to where the gym, meeting room, and Lockout”s office was located. I walked into the gym and wrinkled my nose at the drugs that were piled up in the corner.

”Ignore that. We”ll be getting rid of it soon,” he told me.

I put my hands on my hips and watched as he went to a corner and picked up a pair of boxing gloves. ”What are we doing?”

”I”m tired of watching you do the wounded birdie routine. Time to fix it.”

What did that mean? ”Um…thanks, but I”m not sure…” I took the gloves he shoved at me.

He didn”t give me the chance to finish the sentence. He grabbed first one arm, then the other, and stuffed the gloves onto my hands, cinching them down tight.

”Oh, no, no, no, no, I can”t,” I stammered. My heart rate shot through the roof. Just the thought of fighting made my mouth dry out. It was hard to swallow. The memories from that night were already starting up in my mind like a movie.

He searched my face. ”You want to be scared for the rest of your life? You like being helpless?” One eyebrow rose, punctuating his question.

”No,” I admitted. ”I just don”t think I”m ready for this.” I hated the fact that I was too weak to face what happened to me. Too scared to do anything about it. But every time I even thought of facing it, my body pushed me into panic mode, and I hated that even more.

”Were you ready when Trent came after your kids?” he asked.

A blinding pain twisted in my chest, like a knife was plunged into it. All from a simple question. Ice ran through my veins and my whole body locked in place. ”That... That”s not…”

”Not nice?” he asked, shaking his head. ”No, it”s downright cruel. Almost as cruel as what he did to you. He didn”t just attack you and your kids. He took your confidence, your power. I fucking hate having to do this, but better me than one of the others. Now raise your fists.”

He wasn”t barking at me. Or yelling. And I knew for a fact he cared about me and my children. So despite the anxiety trying to cripple me, I did as he said. ”I don”t know anything about fighting.” It sounded weak even to me.

His expression softened. ”I know. That”s what we”re doing here. No one expects you to go toe to toe with a grown man. To kick the shit out of him. But you can fight dirty.” His normal, evil grin spread across his face. ”I specialize in dirty. First things first, though. Let”s teach you how to throw a punch.”

He tilted his head as I stood there. ”Get into a defensive position. Blade off a little.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. ”What does that even mean?”

He chuckled. ”Sorry, I”m not used to working with newbs. You”re right handed?” He nodded when I did. ”Take your right shoulder and right foot, put them back a little. You”re leading with the left. Good,” he said when I took up the stance. ”Keep your hands up high enough to protect your face. Bend your knees a little.” I dipped into a slight crouch. ”This is your defensive fighting stance. So, when I tell you to get into it, this is what I want you to do.”

”Okay,” I replied, watching him with wary eyes.

He held up a hand. ”Hit it.”

My brows shot up, but I was here, and I wanted to learn, even though it terrified me. My glove smacked into his fist.

”Not bad, Peaches. No wonder Trent had that fucking dent in his skull.”

He was talking about where I hit him with my frying pan. My smile was grim, but the reminder that I”d tried to fight back, even when I didn”t know what to do, settled some of my nerves. Butcher wouldn”t hurt me. This was a safe place to learn. What did it hurt?

”This time,” he said, bringing my focus back to him, ”when you punch, you”re going to twist your hips. Like this.” He demonstrated and his fist whipped through the air as his hips turned.

I nodded and waited for him to get into position. I studied the man standing in front of me for a brief moment. To anyone who didn”t know him, and even some who did, he probably looked mean. He had tattoos everywhere, crawling up his neck, on his skull, barely covered by his short dark hair. His eyes were intense as he waited for me to respond. There was a tattoo of a diamond beneath his left eye. He looked dangerous. He was dangerous. But not to me. He was my friend and he was here trying to help me. I swallowed back tears that thickened in my throat. So many people here wanted to help me. This was his way. And I was damn grateful for it.

”We”re not waiting three to five business days to hit someone, Peaches,” he told me with a wry grin.

I focused on his hand, let out a breath, and snapped my fist forward, twisting my hips as I did. My mouth dropped open as I punched his hand at least twice as hard as I had before.

”Good job,” he told me with a grin. ”That”s how you throw a punch. The power comes from your legs and hips.”

We spent the next few minutes perfecting my punching technique. I was surprised how hard I could hit after such a short time, but still, I was uncomfortable with it.

”You”re holding back still,” Butcher told me. His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

I let my arms flop down to my side with a sigh. ”I”m sorry. I don”t know why I just…ooof!”

He moved so fast I didn”t know how to respond. He leapt forward, pinning me against the wall.

My jaw dropped and every molecule in my being froze. Terror had me in a tight choke hold.

”Did you hold back when he came into your house? Did you hold back when he threatened your kids? Are you going to hold back the next time someone threatens your son? Your daughter?”

That ice in the veins sensation vaporized under something new. The terror was obliterated. My arms, legs, my whole body tensed. Fear was replaced by rage. I wasn”t thinking anymore. Wasn”t scared. I acted purely on instinct. My foot lashed out with all the strength I had.

Butcher was ready for it. His hand dropped down and caught my ankle before it hit him in the groin. It still had enough force to knock him back a step.

And I wasn”t done. When my foot hit the ground, I twisted my hips and drove a punch in straight to his face. He hadn”t been ready for that. There was enough force to spin him back. Later, I realized if I hadn”t been wearing the gloves, I probably would have broken my hand. But in that moment, the memories of Trent attacking me were in my mind, driving my actions. I stood there, glaring at him, panting.

Butcher recovered from the hit and squared off with me, grinning from ear to ear. ”That”s it!” he shouted. ”Bring it on! Don”t flail like a helpless girl, use your hips! Put some power into those hits. Come at me, Gwen. Pretend I”m that useless fucking dickhead and attack!”

I stepped forward and threw another punch. He twisted, taking the hit in the shoulder. I had another coming. And another. I kept swinging. He kept taking the hits. He was allowing himself to be hit versus deflecting the hits. He was letting me land some blows to build up my confidence. Butcher seemed to know exactly what I needed. I was angry, furious. Not at what he was saying, or doing. But at what had happened. By the memories. The fear I had that night melted away.

Butcher was calling out commands and I followed them, hitting him, attacking him. It was like something was released inside me. It had been pent up and angry, but locked down beneath all the fear and grief and guilt. Now it was loose.

And I wasn”t afraid. For the first time in a year I wasn”t afraid.

”Okay, that”s enough,”Butcher told me.

I dropped my fists and sat down on the mats, my chest heaving. I flopped onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. I hadn”t breathed this hard since I pushed Grace out.

”Feel better?”

My eyes closed and I couldn”t help it. I started laughing. When I opened them again, he was standing over me, grinning.

”Feels good doesn”t it? Taking that power back?”

”It really does,” I told him. I shook my head, bewildered that this was what had helped me the most over the last year. The therapy was needed, I knew that, and I”d keep going. I had to get all those poisonous thoughts out of my mind. And Static helped more than I ever knew another person could. He made me feel safe. I knew I always had a place I could go and I”d be understood, loved, and protected. But this…

It was like I”d taken back my life. Control of it anyway. I was ecstatic and wanted to bounce off the walls.

”You did good, Gwen,” he told me, sitting down next to me. He was still in his jeans, cut, and boots. And I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt. We weren”t even prepared for this impromptu session, yet here we were.

”What made you do this?” I asked, looking over at him.

A grim look crossed his face. ”You were sitting there-” He shrugged his muscular shoulders.

”Tell me,” I prompted. ”I can take it.” Everyone was treating me like I was fragile, and I got it. I”d been acting that way. So, I didn”t blame them. But it was time to make some changes.

”You looked so fucking sad... Damaged,” he corrected himself. ”I know Trent coming after you took a piece of you.”

That was exactly it. Who knew this man would understand and explain what had happened to me better than the therapist could?

”I know what that can do to a person.” He met my gaze then looked away, staring off into space. As much as I wanted to ask him about that, I didn”t. It would just shut him down.

He continued speaking, ”And we”ve been giving you a chance to deal with it on your own, because that seemed to be how you wanted it. Everyone deals with their own shit in their own way. I get that. But it”s been long enough and nothing you”re doing seems to be working.” His jaw tightened as he paused. ”Saw you sitting there, staring at your kids, and the damn look on your face broke my goddamn heart.” He shook his head and scoffed. ”Or it woulda if I had one.”

I smiled at him and moved until I was sitting up. I didn”t say the truth in that moment, because it would just embarrass him. He had a heart. He didn”t show it often, but when he did it moved all of us. It was why we loved him so dearly. I was sure that was why Lockout had brought him into the club to begin with. Kit had told us all the story about how Lock had shown up with Butcher one day. And we were all glad that he never left. ”Would you be willing to keep training me?” I asked.

His brows rose. ”I wouldn”t have a problem with that. You have to check with your old man, though. Clear it through him.”

It hadn”t escaped my notice that the door to the gym was open. I also knew, just as Butcher did, that Riptide had installed cameras in here the night they brought the drugs in. The last thing either of us wanted was accusations that something was happening between us.

I loved Static. And though I also loved Butcher it was in the same way that I loved my brother, and Hellfire, and Smokehouse. Butcher was a friend and an adopted brother. And the last thing I wanted was for him and Static to be angry with each other because of me. ”I”ll talk to him first. I promise.”

We sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes before Butcher stood up and extended a hand to me to help me up. I ripped the gloves off and let him pull me to my feet. I didn”t bother to think through my actions. I hugged him. Ignoring the way his body stiffened in my embrace, I squeezed him tight. ”Thank you, Butcher.”

I let him go, gave a little wave, and all but floated out of the gym. This was the final piece of the puzzle that was Gwen. I”d been struggling to find the final thing that would help me feel like myself again. And now I had it. I was the woman I used to be. Before Trent. Before the attack. Grinning, I went in search of my biker. I had so much I wanted to tell him.