Discoveries of a Young Man Pt. 10

"Just a few more to go," I groaned, feeling her light touch like sanctuary among the painful throbbing I felt. Even my eyes felt sore. "I'll, ugh, be... Y'know, this is what I can learn from. I got sloppy and instantly punished for it. Now I know to focus, ugh, when my head heals."

"I'd rather you went without that lesson," Mel said, laying down to rest on my chest, soon joined by Hope as well.

*

I guess it was a mix of both getting knocked down and Mel's concern in the back of my mind, but it all made me more cautious. Freya noticed too. She tried to yell it out of me, but it had come to stay. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset Mel, and even as I tried to force myself to shake it off, I knew it lingered in the back of my mind. I hesitated where I normally would've pounced, second-guessed which defense was best for this and that attack, and so on.

I guess it does something to you. Getting knocked down, and then also getting hurt. It makes you question everything you've done up to that point. Was I even good at boxing? Was I the man I wanted to be? Did I fall at the first speck of resistance? I won the fight, but that knockdown and the following concussion did things to me I had never really encountered in such severity. I was never the most confident guy to begin with so maybe I wasn't well enough equipped to deal with such pushback.

It was spiraling, and it was spiraling into my training. I was never one to deal with depression, but I think I was dealing with a stint of it. I felt myself pull away and be more solemn. Almost like my old self. I was existing, floating through, and just being a gray being in my own life. Not even the main character of my own story. Like an onlooker.

I felt like the young boy who traveled to Courtington to discover himself was emerging, and all my growth was slipping between my fingers. Second-guessing, shelling up, and becoming a shallow version of myself. It was like the first sign of resistance had made me question myself if I really was that man.

I became sort of secluded. The little time I had apart from training, I spent with my family, but I didn't feel like I was all the way there. Like I was a numb zombie spectating some guy named Bran who acted like he was a boxer.

I thought I saw it in Mel too. She knew I was off my game and I knew she was worried for me. Hope was worried for me. Freya was worried for me. And in turn, I was worried. I was worried I'd scare them with another concussion, that I would be injured even worse. Or that a loss would change their opinion of me. If half a victory was devastating to me, then how would a loss be? And as much as I thought about it, the worse I got in the ring. It was like a wedge that had shot into my life. Me on one side, everyone I loved on the other, forcing them away. But the more I tried to get through that wedge, it grew stronger, and the worse I became.

The length and endurance of the fighting camp didn't help either. To address my defense, and the importance of the fight for my career, convinced Freya I had to take at least eight weeks. So with spring coming up, and the lighter weather and the lighter atmosphere, I had to watch it all slide by. I was either too tired to enjoy any of it, or busy training until I was that tired.

"You're only gonna get fucked up worse if you keep it like this," Frank said. Freya had some arrangements to make as the head coach, so Frank had taken over for a few days.

I was panting, with sweat pouring down my face, from a spar that had gone my way, but barely. I was nowhere on top of my game, and the fight was only getting closer. I was non-committal and unfocused. It was one of my last spars before the fight, and I still hadn't gotten over getting injured like I had been. It was nothing like injuring my hand. I knew concussions were part of it all, but it still scared me. Especially the memory loss I had experienced. I didn't even remember getting home from the fight. All week I had been in a slump. The 8-week program had started well enough, but as it all came to a close, it was like the walls were closing in again. The harder the spars, the more tentative I became. It was a dangerous trend in this business.

"Yeah. I know what you're going through," Hope said, having almost become a part of my coaching team by this point. She was honestly a way more talented martial artist than me, especially in BJJ, and she knew my head as well as Freya. In some ways, obviously, she knew it better. She sat down as I leaned up against a post, forcing me to look her in the eyes. "But you have to get over it, man."

Even Hope sounded frustrated now. I felt terrible, and I wasn't sure if continuing to force myself like this was the wise thing to do. I was no quitter, but was there any point in getting more hurt if I wasn't even getting anything out of it?

"It's like something is blocking me from focusing properly," I said. "I can't... I just can't think straight. I just want this camp over, and for this boxing stuff to be over."

Hope turned her frustration to sympathy as she saw my pain.

"Bran. I want you to listen to me for a second. I know what you're doing. You don't wanna get hurt. And you don't wanna hurt your family by getting hurt yourself, I get that," Hope said, sitting down next to me, leaning on the ropes as she looked at me. "But you've gotten to this position because of your ability. Think of why you do it. You're doing it for Mom, and you're doing it for me. But most importantly, you're doing it because you've been a fourth placer your entire life until now. Maybe you never envisioned yourself as a champion, but you're certainly Mom's and mine. Beating Carlos won't change that. Boxing is just your vehicle. What makes you great is how you treat people."

Hope chuckled, as she seemed to be thinking back.

"You're strong, you're kind, and you've discovered who you are. In turn, or because, I don't know, our new life has turned for the better. In every way." Hope nudged at me, looking at me with one of those defiant smiles. Like my bad mood was a pesky nuisance to our happiness. That it was something we could overcome with perseverance. That it was temporary, that everything was, in fact, not terrible. All that in a smile. Who would've thought a cute little girl like Hope could hold so much just from the way she smiled.

"We've already won, Bran. Even if it doesn't feel like it, trust me. We've already won. You, us, it's why we fight in life, and we're why you fight to keep that life going. This is just a hurdle, some resistance. A resistance you'll overcome, because that is what life is. Fighting resistance. And you've fought for me, you've fought for Mel. And not only in that ring, and not only in terms of beating someone up. Now you have to fight this blockade that is pulling you into dangerous areas. Something went wrong, and now you gotta fight. But remember while you fight, overcoming what you gotta overcome, we've already won, Bran."

I looked at her for a bit at that. In a new light. No, not new, but rather an expanding light. Like I was looking at the young girl that was Hope but also saw the hints of the young woman she was becoming. So much wisdom, just like her mom. It made my entire being swell in pride to see her grow into an adult like that. Almost as if in reflex, I pulled her in for a hug, slightly startling her.

Like a lid lifted off a boiling kettle, I felt the pressure on my shoulders ease off a bit.

"Thanks," I muttered, releasing her. I got up with her help. Both on the inside and on the outside.

"Feel better?" she asked. I could only nod.

"Think I'll do another 15 on the heavy. I need to shake this off," I said.

"I'll wait in the locker room," Hope said, giving me a smile, jumping up and heading out of the ring. I watched her ass give a slight jiggle in her workout tights as I looked after her.

Frank then hopped in, as he had probably given us a bit of space. "Ready?"

I guess I had been in some sort of rut for the last few weeks. I had barely noticed it myself, surely it had grown on me over time, but Hope's little speech was just what I needed. Lately, I have been a gloomy, I guess, a bit like my old self from almost a year ago. Playing second fiddle to my own existence. But I had to turn that around. The physical things were physical, and I would probably never be in better shape than I was now, at least not at 175 lbs, but what was going on now was all mental.

And the first thing to do when you recognize the things that have gotten into your head is to address it and talk to your loved ones. Those who care about you. Like Hope had done in the gym. So that evening, I found Mel in the kitchen. Cooking my chicken, even now. I guess I could see it on her as I came home that night. She was tired, but not only from a long night. Tired of worrying. She probably saw the mental torment I had, and it in turn affected her. It made it worse, knowing it took a toll on the people I love the most.

"Mel?" I asked. She turned and smiled. Tired, but still a smile. A smile I could both kill and die for. "I, ugh," I said, moving over to her, unsure how to even choose the right words. "Listen, I'm sorry for being a bit mopy lately. I've just been in a rut, and I've realized it's making you guys suffer just as much if not more. Ever since I had that concussion I've been so focused on trying to do whatever it takes to not get injured again, to not worry you, and it honestly has that I've spiraled into this dark tunnel that I wasn't sure how to get out of. I've grown a bit self-conscious about myself. Or perhaps 'a bit' is an understatement. The back-to-back camps, then the injury, the toll it all takes... Hell, I didn't even realize I was in it until Hope pulled me out of it."

Mel was patient as she always was, and listened until I had said my peace. "I guess I can be partly to blame," she said. When I was about to interrupt her to tell her that it was all me, she held a hand for me to be quiet. "Bran, I am worried, and I was worried. When you got injured, it was hard. And I know I perhaps should've not expressed it how I did. But... I think, ugh. I'm not sure how to say this. But I think it is more dangerous, even more than a concussion, if you keep all this boiled down, and disappear into a dark hole. I think it can be quite dangerous indeed."

My heart dropped. Dangerous how? What did she mean by that? Did she mean it for us? My mouth felt dry and my voice hoarse as I spoke. "What-what do you mean dangerous?"

"Of course, a concussion is dangerous, but it goes away after a few weeks of rest. I'm no boxing expert, but if you can't focus in the ring, that is much more dangerous. That's when you can get hurt way worse," Mel said. Oh god. I thought for a second...

"So we're good? Us two?" I asked, feeling like a moron.

"What?" Mel asked, surprised. "Oh, did you think I meant dangerous for us? Oh silly," she took my hands and kissed them, pulling me into a tight embrace, a hug of true, warm Mel quality. "Only death can take us apart. I can't wait until we get married, Bran!"

I simply had to bury my face in her cleavage and found the type of comfort that only Mel could offer. "Sorry for being so foolish. I have been so down the last few weeks. Every time I train I feel worse, and it's just a vicious cycle. I haven't been thinking straight. And I guess... I don't know, maybe I thought for a moment that maybe my bad mood lately has had an impact on... us..."

"Don't be silly. I can assure you that I'll love you, babe. Unconditionally. You could quit boxing tomorrow and I wouldn't think anything less of you. I want my Bran whole, and I want him happy," she said. "As long as you keep those pecs and those cheeks on point, you can do whatever you want. And I'm joking of course."

"I'm so lucky," I breathed with a sigh of relief. If the lid had lifted off before, then the pressure seemed to be all gone by now.

"You should add Hope as your mental coach or something. She seems to know what to say as a fellow fighter..." Mel said after a bit. "By the way, I've got a surprise for you. I was gonna wait, but I think you could use it. The very proof of our commitment to a better life."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Come here," she said, taking me out to the car. The chicken could wait. Warm or cold, it didn't matter anymore when it came to chicken.

When she drove, it took only a few moments for me to realize where we were heading. Courtington Terrace, where our new home was being built. Only when we came up... It looked almost done. My time training and resting and training and resting had made it so I had completely lost track of how the house was doing. And again, it looked almost done. Come to think of it, as little as I knew about carpenting, it looked completely done. Two floors and an attic, an attached double garage on the left side facing the street with a big gate and hedges for privacy. Standing there, it looked absolutely amazing.

"I was gonna wait until the weekend. We're waiting for some last bits... but what do you say? Want a tour of our new home? And perhaps we can break it in?" Mel suggested, turning the heat on at the last turn of her suggestion.

"Sure. I'd love to. How long has it been like this?" I asked.

"A bit. It has come along slowly but surely. I just wanted you to focus on your stuff. But I guess it was high time. We can't move in yet. As I said, there are a few mandatories that are still not in place," Mel said, taking my hand and pushing open the side gate.

Immediately, there was a long driveway with grass on both sides that wrapped around the house to the back. I guess I hadn't seen all of it from the street, but now I could make out the shapes of what was the pool area, and where we had a deck built for a potential hot tub.

I knew it was evening, but as we walked up the driveway I stared at the lawn, envisioning Mel and Hope in their bikinis, sunbathing in all of their galore. How I longed to take a walk barefeet in the grass, with no onslaught of matches in front of me. To enjoy what we had worked for. To watch Mel and Hope in the garden, join them with lemonade and revel in the warm summer.

"Does Hope know?" I asked.

"Yeah. Where is that daughter of mine, anyway?" Mel asked.

"She went for a bike ride after we showered," I said. Hope had recently developed a fascination for motorbikes. It suited her badassery, honestly.

"Here we are," Mel said, opening the door for me.

The hallway was as hallways are, but as we stepped into the hall with the staircase and the doors to different parts of the room, I saw just how finished the house had become. It was truly only a matter of time before we could move in. Except for the absent furniture, of course.

"Through there is a living room. Down there is the kitchen leading out back. Or, in time there will be, that is one of the things missing. Extra bathroom down there. Back there is a small hallway to both the garage and your very own in-house mini-gym if need be."

"A gym?" I asked, perplexed.

"Yeah. Seemed practical, y'know," Mel explained, guiding me ahead to where the kitchen should've been.

"Indeed, no kitchen," I mused, feeling my foul mood vaporize as I saw this beautiful home that was all mine. I took a closer inspection at where the cupboards, kitchen island, counters, oven, and fridge should've been. Marvelous. Even if there was nothing here yet, it was all Mel, Hope, and I's. The home where we could be a family.

I looked to the far wall of the kitchen. But instead of a full wall facing the back, we had roof-to-floor sized windows and a double glass door, allowing easy access to both the pool out back and the giant lawn. Mel wasn't done touring the house yet though. Upstairs she showed me a few guest rooms. Freya's was the first down the hall, then an extra, another extra, one for Maia, and then, at the end of the hall, we came to what I had to guess was our bedroom. Mel shoved open the door, letting me go in first.

"It's not completely furnished yet," Mel said, joining me in the room, moving over to the extra large king-sized bed. "But we got the most important part at least. What do you say? Want to test the suspension?"

"Oh yeah," I muttered. It wasn't that pure animalistic lust that took hold of me, but rather the lust of a man conquering his wife-to-be in their new home.

Mel leaned back in all her glory. Even her baggy t-shirt and sweatpants couldn't hide her delicious curves from me. Especially not when I climbed onto the bed to join her and started to undress her and drag her pants down her long sexy legs.

I had started this fight camp in a slump that had taken me back to my old self. Mel writhing in anticipation under me reminded the young man in me of all the discoveries I had made. I was no longer that gray existence without visions or goals. I had become the man who was lucky enough to bed the otherworldly beauty that was my future wife. Through hard work, and through dedication to the ones I loved, I had become something I never knew existed within me. It was silly of me to even question any of it. Hadn't the last nine months of my life been a constant reminder of what life had bestowed upon me? Motivated and driven on by Mel, and then later Hope?

I wanted to show Mel just how much I appreciated her, how much she meant to me. And I guess I did, as Mel moaned deliciously when I snaked my fingers under the hem of Mel's shirt, and pulled it up until her magnificent breasts were revealed to me. I was so ready for her, I needed no premeditation and neither did she, and I slipped her underwear aside before shoving myself inside her. Finding myself docked and ready, I started to slowly saw into her, sinking my face into her cleavage, feeling her silky warmth cling to my girth as I thrust into her. My world became nothing but Mel in that moment, and it was all I needed.

"Oh god, Bran," she whispered, wrapping her warm hands and feet around me. "We're gonna have it so wonderful together. I just know it."

"I can't wait, Mel," I whispered back.

"This bed will see so much. I hoped we could spend our wedding night here. I know that so many do the traditional hotels and the trips and all that, and while I want a honeymoon trip don't get me wrong, I think that night I want to end up right here," Mel said, still keeping her voice low and sensual.

"Of course. Nothing would make this bed more special," I moaned back, moving to kiss into her neck, drawing in her scent as I felt her tightness clench me on every in-stroke. Mel always responded so wonderfully, and now was no different.

"Oh yeah. And I have many tricks to make this bed see some very special things too," Mel teased, smiling wickedly at me. "Oh, right there. That's a good spot."

At her encouragement, I lowered my hips and started driving into her, hitting that spot she loved the most, merely gracing it before. It didn't take long, nor did it have to, until we reached our mutual peaks. We sealed our lips and kissed deeply for several minutes, letting our climaxes wash over one another, and we didn't let go until we both were spent and passed out, thus spending our first night in our new house. Breakfast in the morning was tomorrow's trouble.

*

The last week flew by as the big fight against Carlos Fernando finally came. This was it. In front of a crowd of 10,000 in the co-main event. Though it was certainly the main event of my boxing career. I was certainly happy I had fought at the Yuengling Center before. Despite my shitty camp, by fight night I was more than eager to get in the ring. Mel and Hope had just proven too precious to me, and there was honestly nothing that could make me come down from the high I rode from having those two wonderful beings in my life. And I was thus eager. Not to get it over with, but to see if I at all belonged there at all. To live life, however, it fell. I knew Carlos Fernando was the best fighter I would ever face, with a perfect 10 and 0 record, versus my meager 4 and 0. But my rise had been a surprise to everyone from myself, to the boxing world, to James and the other promoters.