Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 45

Charlie and I are kept separate for most of the day. I spend my time exploring the streets nearest the hotel with Mason and Casey, having already picked out a few shops that I wanted to stop into when I was free from Charlie’s itinerary. Mason comes along without a single complaint, staying close to his mother and me at all times.  His only request is that our last stop be a bookstore, so that he can pick up the latest release in his favorite series.

When we finally return to the hotel, in an elevator taking us to our respective floors, Mason looks up at me, and then forward again and says, “That was fun. I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to live here.”

Casey’s eyes widen and she nudges Mason’s shoulder, but he does not look at her, and she does not look at me. I only smile as the elevator doors open and Casey and Mason step off.

“We’ll see you soon, Stella. Try to get some rest, before tonight.”

I nod and say goodbye, and as the elevator doors close again, I smile, wondering if Charlie had been like Mason as a little boy, in constant worry for others. Because if he didn’t care, who would?

I take Casey’s advice when I return to the room, falling asleep immediately – alone. But I do not wake that way. Instead, I'm pulled from sleep by Charlie's lips on my bare shoulder.

Before I can even open my eyes, I speak, “Is it time to go already? I didn’t mean to sleep long. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

I take a deep breath and finally open my eyes. Charlie sits beside me on the bed. He brings his hand to my face and brushes his fingers across the skin underneath my eye, leaning closer in concentration.

“Eyelash,” he smiles, and then his finger moves back again, this time tracing circles on my cheek. “We still have over an hour. You’re probably tired because I’ve stressed you out,” he smirks.

“Likely so.”

He withdraws his hand and sits up again to remove his shoes before lying down fully beside me. 

“Are you nervous about watching tonight?”

“Not about watching,” I tell him, “I’m worried that you’ll be hurt, that’s all.”

“I’m glad that you aren’t afraid of more than that,” he smiles, “Still unnecessary, though.”

“What will happen if your side starts to hurt? Will you be able to just walk off?” I ask.

Charlie is obviously amused. His eyes squeeze shut with quiet laugher and when he finally responds he is still grinning. “I suppose I could. I wouldn’t though.”

I frown, “Tell me you wouldn’t allow yourself to be hurt for pride.”

“I won’t be hurt, Stella,” he keeps his smile, and I keep my frown.

I sigh and lay my hand against his cheek, wishing away my own nerves. I move my hand down his neck, across his shoulders, and over his arms, feeling his muscles as if to remind myself how strong and solid he is.

“I love you,” he says, and I look from his large arm to his sweet smile and what nerves I have cured start to resurface. No matter his physical advantage, it kills me to think about him fighting anyone, knowing him the way I do.

“And I love you,” I say.

“But do you trust me?”

I almost tell him no, that I think he is being stubborn, and has been since the night that he was stabbed. I nearly tell him that he should not compromise his quiet confidence for blinding pride and make a mistake that could cost him much more than his boxing career.