The second round wasn’t much better. If anything, it was worse.

“You totally gassed out on nervous energy, Jules,” Zac chided, looking me straight in the eyes. “Fortunately, Christina did too, so I reckon you’re probably about even on points. Tell me what Christina’s strongest punch is.”

I tried to replay some of the last two rounds in my head. “She has a strong left hook.”

“Exactly. Be ready for it and move to your left.”

This night was not going to plan. I was supposed to come in and claim victory for myself, annihilating the opposition. Nothing was further from the truth.

I closed my eyes and allowed the noise in the room to disappear. I needed to find something deep inside me and take it into the next round.

The tattoos on Leo’s back popped into my head and resonated in me with such force my eyes snapped open. When I’d asked him about them, he was evasive about when and where he’d had them done, but explained with such passion about Buddhist philosophies and finding strength from within.

“What is it, Jules?” Zac asked. “You look like you’ve just had a breakthrough.”

“I think I’m ready now, Zac.” I felt an inner calm I realised I’d been lacking to that point.

“You’re no quitter, Jules. Go out there and own this. Remember. Cowards never start, the weak never finish and winners never quit. Stay off the ropes and work off the jab.”

Fuck it, I thought to myself. I’m really going to give it a crack. I’m no coward, I’m no quitter and I’m going to use that strength I know is within me.

Chapter Forty-Two

Leo

She wouldn’t see me. She wouldn’t know I was there. No one could know I was there. Her life might have depended on it, but it felt like mine depended on seeing her again.

Her first two rounds had been hard to watch. I hoped her trainer was telling her to slow down and stop expending so much nervous energy. I wanted to be in the audience supporting her then taking her home afterwards, but I had to accept that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

A hard slap to my back startled me. “Leo Ashlar? I’ll be damned.”

Standing next to me was Nick, my childhood boxing coach. I came to this gym three nights a week after school for years until my desire to get into medicine meant devoting every night to studying.

“Nick. Long time, no see. How’s things, mate?” I asked, shaking his hand.

“Good. Good. What brings you back out this way? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

I nodded. “Sorry, mate.” I should’ve stayed in better touch. I’d approached him at the funeral and asked him to hook me up with a trainer in the city. He gave me a number that I called the very next day. “I’ve been busy.”

“Hey, mate. You weren’t in good shape at the funeral. I was real sorry about your parents. Nasty business that.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“So word on the street tells me you’re making waves in the illegal scene.”

It didn’t surprise me that he knew. The fighting community was close knit, and everyone knew everyone else’s business.

“It helps.”

“I get that, mate. I do. Just be careful. I don’t want to read about you in a coma in the hospital.” His hand slapped my shoulder and I appreciated his support. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am. Okay?”

I nodded just as the buzzer sounded for Juliette’s final round, and both our heads turned towards the ring.

“Blondie up there. She’s new. Man, if I was your age. Wow.” Nick was laughing and I knew he was joking, but my stomach turned just the same.

“Steady on, old man.” I attempted to match his jovial tone.

We half chatted and half watched the start of the fight. Something had changed in Juliette and she moved like a lioness, stalking her prey. Our chatting ceased as we both watched, riveted. Her opponent knew she was the gazelle, trying not to stumble, and the scene that played out was poetry in motion. She had the perfect blend of power, grace and a steely resolve, obvious to everyone in the room. Christina had a strong left hook, and finally, Juliette was moving deftly in response.

This was the real Juliette—strong and beautiful, inside and out. This was the Juliette that shone when she allowed her inner self to explode instead of allowing others to push her down.

Juliette dominated every sequence and was declared victorious to the shouts and cheers of the appreciative crowd.

Her whole body glistened with sweat. She’d never looked sexier than she did in that moment, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I knew she’d seen me when her whole body stiffened and her eyes changed from wide and happy to slits. She was narrowing her vision, clearly unsure if it was actually me. I had to get out of there. I gave her a half smile, trying to convey my congratulations, and then I turned towards the back door.

“Bye, Nick,” I said hurriedly. “I’ll come back soon.”

“Good luck, mate.”

I pushed the fire door open with more strength than needed, keen to make my escape. It burst open and I exhaled with the cloak of darkness. I pulled my leather jacket on as I made my way over to my bike.

As I pulled my helmet over my head, I glanced back at the door, half hoping and half dreading that Juliette would appear. I revved the throttle and counted to three in my head. She wasn’t coming. Of course she wasn’t coming. I was meant to stay away from her, so it was better that way.

Who the fuck was I kidding? It wasn’t better. It was fucking unbearable.

With one more glance back, I sped off, full of rage—an emotion I was very familiar with. I was going to sort this shit out. Then I was going to win her back.

Chapter Forty-Three

Juliette

Seven weeks later

I’d only flown in the night before, so I was exhausted when I pulled into the gravel parking area in front of the Dartmoor Wellness Centre. Despite my jetlag, I was happy. My experience overseas had been incredible and I felt like a new person. With every day that had passed, my horizons broadened and my instinct to run from situations I feared lessened.

I was so busy staring through the front windshield at the imposing white brick building that I hadn’t noticed the black Jeep pull up.

I got out and walked towards the steps leading to the entry, lost in thought. I can do this.

The automatic doors opened, and I walked through to a surprisingly welcoming reception area. Perhaps I’d been expecting padded rooms and straitjackets. Pistachio-coloured walls, indoor plants and calming music made it feel more like a health retreat.

A young woman with far too much makeup on greeted me with indifference at the reception desk. She appeared pained to have to look up from her magazine.

“Welcome to Dartmoor.” She spoke in a bored monotone. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see my mother. Isabel Fontaine.”

“Sign in here.” She shoved a form in front of me without looking at me.

“Do you have a pen?”

She huffed out a breath as if I was seriously inconveniencing her. A biro was thrust on top of the form and she looked at me with a ‘there better not be anything else’ glare.

“Thank you.” I gave her an extra-cheery smile to hopefully annoy her.

When I had signed and dated, she told me to wait while she found out where my mother was.

I made my way over to the cream lounges and took a seat. The coffee table was covered in a variety of brochures and flyers as well as a few token books on landscapes. There was a distinct lack of trashy magazines. I picked up the book with a collage of lakes and mountains across the front cover.

I closed my eyes and opened the book to a random page. “Queenstown, New Zealand,” I said out loud.