FAYE
I drove my fist into the punching bag again, the impact stinging through my knuckles and up my arm.
The gym echoed with every hit, steady and sharp—a rhythm I desperately needed. Thinking was the last thing I wanted to do today.
“Faye,” Irene grunted, tightening her grip on the bag as I kicked it hard enough to push her backward, “I’m serious. I don’t think this boxing thing is a good idea for a pregnant woman.”
I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look up. “Relax. I’m not fighting anyone.”
“Yeah, but you’re fighting something,” she muttered. “And if Alexander finds out I’m helping instead of talking you out of it, he’ll be mad.”
That earned a tiny huff of amusement from me, but I kept punching. “Alexander hasn’t really paid attention to me in almost two days. He doesn’t get to decide h
