Breaking the Cycle by Tricia Andersen Page A

glove on his hands, securing the Velcro closure with his teeth. He took a moment to let the feel of them sink in. His blood ran lava hot in his veins. His heart pounded in his chest. His blue eyes turned to ice as he focused on one of the bags. Crossing the gym, he lowered himself into an attack stance.
    He punched, the force in his fist doubling the bag. He moaned. He had forgotten just how good this felt. He was a recovering addict getting a taste of his favorite vice. And he needed more. Much, much more.
    He jabbed again. He hated Liz for every word she had said. He crossed, the bag resonating with the impact. He hated the hell Chloe was going through. He half stepped, his leg lightning as it struck the vinyl. He hated himself for thinking the very thoughts Liz had said as he waited for the banker to close his account. His hate flowed through him with every punch and kick.
    “Holy hell.”
    Max spun around. Rico stood behind him. His eyes were wide in awe, his own duffle bag hanging by his fingertips at his side.
    “Rico,” Max scrambled. “What are you doing here? The gym is closed.”
    “Jack gave me a key. And I could ask you the same question.”
    Max slowly exhaled. “Releasing frustration. Not a great night. Liz is going to lose her house.”
    Rico chuckled. “I take it I need to get a new place. Or are four of us going to squeeze into the apartment?”
    Max half laughed. “I don’t know.”
    Rico cocked his head as he examined Max. “So, how long have you been fighting?”
    “I don’t fight.”
    “Try again.”
    Max stared at him then sighed. “I fought in college. I was going to be the next big thing in MMA. I had agents pounding down my dorm door and harassing my parents. Then, I got hurt. I gave it up.”
    Rico shook his head. “Tough break.” He paused. “You want to spar?”
    “Me? Fight you? I’ll get my butt kicked.”
    “You look like you could be the closest thing I’ve had to a challenge in a long time. And I won’t say anything to anyone.”
    “Especially Chloe. I’m having a hard enough time holding onto her. I don’t need to terrify her with my past.”
    “No worries. Lips sealed.”
    Max punched the bag once more for good measure while Rico kicked his flip-flops off and slipped on his own gloves. He strode to the mat while egging Rico, beckoning to him with a gloved hand. Rico laughed as he joined him in the circle.
    Max shed the rust quickly in a flurry of punches and kicks. He was right. He landed on the mat more times than he could count. But it was exhilarating when Rico stared up at him from the flat of his back, rubbing the stubble of his jaw to loosen the impact of a nasty hook. Rico stood, grumbling “rookie’s luck.”
    A few moments later, Rico was kissing the mat again. Max laughed triumphantly as he helped Rico to his feet.
    “Water break,” Rico gasped.
    “If you say so. I can go some more,” Max taunted. Rico snickered as he reached in his bag for his water bottle. Max popped the cap on his own as he woke up his cell phone. His face turned to stone. Twenty missed calls. All from Liz. Max tapped the last missed call and listened as it rang. He was greeted with a sob.
    Max frowned. “Liz?”
    There was another sob. “Max. Chloe…started in again…just after…you left. She’s…upstairs. I…can’t get…to her.”
    “I’m on my way home. Just calm down. I’ll be there in a minute.” He hung up, not bothering to take off his gloves. He turned to his sparring partner. “Rico…”
    Rico’s voice was grave. “Get home to your family, Max.”
    Max ran to his car, throwing his bag and shoes in the front seat. He broke one speed limit after another as he raced home. He sprinted into the house, not bothering with the ramp, but taking the slightly exposed steps two at a time.
    Liz’s body was shaking as she huddled in her wheelchair. “I heard her vomit then she choked and wheezed. I haven’t heard anything else. Max, I think she aspirated…”
    Max