Page 44 of The Breaking Pointe

present

COLTON

There’s an entire set of rules topped onto the ones that I already knew when it comes to professional boxing.

Rules that take a while to read through, and loads of fine print to make sure that I remember.

Reading it all is a reminder that I made it this far, which is the part of my life that feels unreal.

The same way being with Noelle makes me feel.

I’m sure of everything, but I did get mild curiosity about the idea that she loves me, and that I’m living the life I live.

Every horizon is in front of me right now, and for the first ever, it’s like my life that has just begun.

I don’t think I have been this sure of anything in my life.

Months ago, thinking about this fight felt like carrying a ton of bricks around.

It felt like I had one foot in the grave, and the other struggling to keep my head above the six-foot deep hole.

Now it feels like I have nothing to question.

It’s days away, and I feel nothing short of capable. It amazes me that time is all it takes.

I used to hate the present, and now I don’t want it to end. I have one last thing to do, though.

Noelle needs her happy ending. It doesn’t end with just us. She needs her studio. Her dreams matter just as much as mine do.

Trey and I exit the office building where we had recently begun having meetings with my team. The more involved I get, the more professional things seem. We’ve reached a point where I’m recognizable in public. If anything makes me nervous, it’s that. I like being incognito. So far it’s been harmless kids, though. What harm could that be? In a way, it’s heartwarming. They don’t know what I’m going through, or what Daniel is going through. They just love boxing. That’s what makes it special.

“So just make sure you read through the rules a few times, and get it all in your skull, alright?” Trey says, walking with me to the car.

I flip through pages of the small stack of papers, noticing that the rules are more extensive and strict.

“They may as well have given me another contract, Trey,” I attest, chuckling softly.

“The rules aren’t that deep, normally. It’s because of what’s going on between you two. They want things to be neat and orderly,” he assures me.

I nod. “Fair.”

We approach his SUV, and I continue to flip through pages, suddenly feeling a tug on my joggers. Moving the papers out of my view, I surveillance the area below me, quickly making eye contact with a small boy. Maybe around the age of twelve.

“Hey…kid…” I look around quickly, realizing he doesn’t have anyone with him. “Where’s your parents?” I ask, getting right to the point.

“You’re Colton Kennedy,” he says innocently as his face glows. “You’re like—the best new rookie fighter.”

I crack a smile, noticing he’s just excited. “Yeah I am.”

Just as he gets ready to say more, a man closer to my age runs up to us, huffing and puffing with a look of shock on his face.

“Grayson, you can’t run off like that. It’s dangerous,” he pants before double-taking at me. “Oh shit.”

I quickly lift a hand to wave. “I’m sorry. I looked down, and there he was.”

“Now I can understand why he ran off.” The man laughs, skittishly. “C’mon, Grayson. We should leave Mr. Kennedy alone. He’s pretty busy.”

“But Dad, this is my only chance. We can’t go to the fight, remember?” Grayson whines, sounding as though he has waited all his little life for this.

I watch them both, then notice Trey is at the trunk of the SUV, probably handling equipment in the back.

“Why can’t you guys go?” I ask, stalling them before the dad takes them away.

“Oh—uh—just money. Those fights are expensive, man. I looked at every website, and it’s beyond me. They won’t sell them at the box office, so we’ll just have to wait to watch it on the television,” he says lowly.

My heart sinks slightly, thinking about the possibility of the missed opportunity. I was once just like Grayson. Except my dad didn’t try. I’m sure his has done everything.

“Yeah, but the TV isn’t any fun. Not compared to the real thing,” I lightly suggest.

Grayson looks up at me, budding in. “We got to see you and you’re not even punching anyone. No one at school is gonna believe it. Can we have an autograph?”

Entertained by his happiness, I comply. “Of course.” I nod, opening the car door to grab a pen and a random paper sitting on the seat, then seeing exactly what I need sitting in the cup holder.

Extra tickets to the fight that Trey saved from one of his gym membership giveaways.

I grab two of them and pull myself back out of the car, signing my name on the paper, twice, and quickly.

“Two autographs. How’s that?” I smile, holding it out for Grayson.

“Thanks bro, this is—thank you.” The dad becomes flustered with happiness as Grayson admires his souvenir.

“Oh, and uh, I’ll see you guys at the fight, alright? Seating is pretty close,” I add, holding out the tickets with a shrug.

“Real tickets?” Grayson asks, lowering his voice with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Real ones.” I nod, laughing softly.

He throws himself at me, hugging me as tight as his small arms could allow, “Thank you,” he says into my shirt.

His energy is so warm, I can feel it melting into me.

“Yo, Cole, I don’t wanna interrupt, but we gotta go,” Trey says, getting in the driver’s seat.

Grayson pulls away from me and says, “See you at the fight?”

I nod, watching him back away with his dad as his dad repeatedly mouths to me, “Thank you.”

Giving one more wave, I nod. “See you then, little man,” I say with a smile, hunching over into the car and closing the door.

Trey, waiting in place, smirks at me as I get situated in my seat.

“What?” I ask, confused by his silence. “You’re like a little celebrity.” He chuckles.

“Oh, shut up.” I laugh quietly, shaking my head. “Look, could you do me a favor on your way back to your place?”

He starts the car, agreeing before I can even finish. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do the favor,” he says in a fake, dreadful voice.

I smile, digging in my pocket for my wallet and retrieving it. I open it and pull out a folded, rectangular paper, setting it in the cup holder with the extra tickets.

“This is the check for the studio. Would you be so kind as to drop it off at Cheswick’s for me?” I ask.

He watches my actions then half smiles. “No shit. You really got it done?”

“Course I did. I told myself I would, and honestly, making it happen really helped me a lot with finding my love for art again. She deserves this, Trey. It’s the closest I’m getting to marriage without being married yet.”

He scrunches his brows. “Marriage? That doesn’t scare you?” I think for a moment, but not long. “No. In fact, it makes me excited. I just can’t jump into that. I have to be patient. Right now she needs this, not a ring.”

He nods, slowly. “Alright, my man. Proud of you.”

At times, Trey says the things I would’ve loved to hear my father say. He knows I need to hear it. No matter what happens, he’s the male figure I’ve always needed. He never left my side, and reminded me who I was, and what I’m always able to achieve.

“Thank you, Trey. You never let me officially lose it. You believed in me,” I tell him, right before he drives off.

“If I had a kid, it would be similar to this. I may not have decades on you, but I have lots of years. Our bond means something to me. I love you, Cole. I’m just happy you’re finally seeing yourself the way others do.”

Yeah. I have to say that I agree.

* * *

“Elle, I’m home!” I call through the house as I set all of my things down on the floor by the front door. Looking around, I wait for a response, but receive nothing. I mosey my way upstairs to see if I can find a source of life there.

“Elle?” I ask into the open again, taking a look into the guest rooms and bathroom before walking toward our bedroom.

Upon entering, I see a hump in the bed and red hair dangling over the edge, hanging from a body stuffed under the covers. The room is quiet, with nothing running to make a sound except the ceiling fan. On the floor is the small garbage can from the bathroom, sitting at her bedside. To go with her set up was numerous tissues, crumbled up and laying beside her—some on the nightstand.

I get closer to her, sitting on the edge to look over her shoulder and see her face glistening as she sleeps. Resting the back of my hand on her head softly, I instantly feel that her body temperature is abnormal. Peeking into the garbage can, I stand up, picking it up with me once I notice the bits of vomit in it. I then head to the bathroom and set it down, then open the cabinet to get a thermometer and whatever kind of flu medication I can find. Keeping my motions going, I stuff the plug in the bathtub and turn on the water, making sure it runs at a warm to hot temperature, just the way she likes. Picking up a washcloth, I dip it in the water then ring it out and take it with me, along with the thermometer and medicine, back to the room.

This time Noelle is facing me as I enter the room, indicating that she is somewhat awake.

“Hey, sweetness. You okay?” I ask in the softest voice I can. “I don’t know what happened. My body aches. I think I caught

something from one of my dance-mates.” She sighs, speaking with a groan. “I just know I need to get better before my show.” “Hey, you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure,” I reason, walking up to her and sitting on the edge of the bed again. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came home and helped you,” I insist,

getting her a dose of medicine ready.

She watches me, looking weak in the face. “Because you’re busy.”

I press the washcloth against her forehead, patting her face before I kiss her forehead. “I’m never too busy for you. Take this medicine for me. And then I have a bath running for you, okay?” She nods, taking my directions and listening. She forces the medicine down, making a disgusted face like a child, then tries to sit up. Seeing her struggle a bit, I help her until she’s fully sat up.

“Can I take your temperature? Please?” I beg as I’m reminded of her body heat when my hands touch her skin.

“Okay.” She nods, giving me time to get the thermometer ready and rest it in her open mouth.

Within seconds, it beeps, and I remove it, giving it a quick look.

101.

“Is it bad?” She sits back, rubbing her face.

I clear my throat, shaking my head. “It’s nothing we can’t fix. Lemme get you to the bathroom.”

Pulling back the blankets, I wrap my arms around her, scoot- ing an arm under her legs to pick her up and get her to the warm bath. Standing up straight, I lift her from the warm covers, exposing her to the chilly air. It makes her wince and grab hold of me.

“It’s okay, I got you,” I whisper, strolling to the bathroom to sit her on the edge of the tub.

I don’t waste a moment and begin to undress her, watching her shiver as I do. I can’t get her ready any quicker, though.

“Whenever you’re ready, get in. I’m gonna stay right here,” I remind her, letting her take control as she turns her feet into the water and slowly slips into it. As soon as her body is submerged in the water, she brings her knees to her chest and lays her cheek on her knees, letting the ends of her hair float in the water.

“Little better?” I ask, kneeling down to sit on the floor, dipping the washcloth in the water once again.

She barely nods, closing her eyes.

Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek, squeezing some warm water down her back before turning the faucet off. I repeatedly squeeze more water on her body until I can tell she isn’t shivering anymore, kissing at all the freckles I can find on her shoulders and arms, admiring her porcelain skin. Perfect in every way, and finally healed from that monster who left her with bruises.

“Does that feel good?” I whisper. “You’re gonna get sick,” she murmurs. “I’ll be okay,” I say calmly.

She takes a deep breath, looking at me and showing her big, green eyes. Moving her hair out of her face, I whisper more, “You know that I love you, so much?”

“You only say it every day…” She sniffles, coughing softly. “But it’s okay because I love you, too.”

Smiling, I notice her nose becoming red and rosy. “Yeah, but I wanna take care of you. In sickness and in health,” I admit.

“Like husband and wife?” she questions. I nod. “Yeah,” I mumble.

She watches me commit to running water all over her body with the cloth, intently paying attention.

“I would marry you,” she says, making her voice louder. My hand stops, and I scan her face. “Would you?”

She nods, smiling with as much energy as she can.

Taking a deep breath, I continue the topic. “So…what kind of wedding would we have?”

She closes her eyes again, maybe daydreaming, or even creating the plan in her head.

“Purple. I love purple,” she answers. “That’s what the bridesmaids would wear.”

“What about you?” I curiously ponder.

“A cream dress. Like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face. Just a little bit longer so I can feel like Cinderella.” She sighs, slightly smiling, her eyes still closed.

Trailing my fingers down her back and in mini circles, I imagine her explanation, waiting for more of her ideas. I want nothing more than to see her in a cream wedding dress. Any wedding dress, as long as it’s for me.

“What else?” I ask.

“Baby’s breath. I love that flower. I want it in my bouquet,” she adds.

I kiss her arm once more, then rest my chin on the edge of the tub.

“That sounds beautiful, sweetness.”

“You know,” she says, batting her eyes open, “you could be like Marlon Brando? He’s tall, dark, and handsome, too. Put a suit on, and you’re his twin.”

Chuckling under my breath, I raise my head. “You think?” “Yeah. I know it. It would be a dream.” She sighs with relief,

nodding and smiling fully.

“Hm. Well, I think so, too,” I say, kissing her head as I get her soap together.