Will grinned. ‘That’s because I’m lot stronger than you and also because you punch like a girl.’
‘Fist into bag. That was a punch,’ Lu protested.
‘A girl punch. You need to put some body weight behind it,’ Will told her. ‘Stand with your feet shoulder width apart, bend your knees. OK, good. Make a loose fist with each hand and lift, elbows straight out behind you. That’s it. Now, push off with your back foot and rotate your wrist and shoulder as you throw the punch.’ Will watched as her fist connected with the bag and rocked. ‘Better than before.’
‘This is hard,’ Lu muttered as she tried again.
‘Keep your wrist straight. Push off your back foot.’ Girl punching still, Will thought, but, seeing the determined look on her face, he knew that she would get it right if it killed her. Lu, he was coming to realise, had the determination of a dung beetle and the stubbornness of a mule.
‘When do I learn to kick?’ Lu demanded, huffing.
‘When you’ve learned how to punch,’ Will told her. ‘Keep your other hand up to guard your face. Don’t leave your face vulnerable to attack.’
‘Who’s going to hit me?’ Lu demanded.
‘If you are going to learn, then do it properly.’
Lu pulled a tongue at him and rocketed her fist into the bag , making it sway harder than before.
‘Better.’
After twenty minutes Lu rested her hands on her thighs and looked up at the bag. ‘I could’ve done with one of these when my folks died.’
It was the first time she’d willingly mentioned their death and Will fought not to react, waiting for her to talk. ‘There were days when I was so sad and so angry that I used to punch my bed. This is better.’
Will walked over to the fridge next to the mat, pulled out a bottle of water, cracked the lid and held it to Lu’s lips. She drank and sank to the mat, crossing her legs as she sat down.
Will joined her and they sat in silence for a while before he asked another question that he’d been wondering about. ‘Who told you? About the accident?’
‘Mak. He was our next-door neighbour at the time.’
‘How did you cope?’ Will asked.
‘What do you mean?’ Lu asked, giving him a blank look.
‘Lu, you were a teenager and suddenly responsible for two kids. How did you deal with your parents’ deaths? With having your life splattered against a wall?’
Lu was silent for a long time, her eyes on her shoes. ‘Strange...nobody has ever asked me that before.’
‘You’re kidding?’
She bit her bottom lip. ‘Nope. People would ask if I was OK but would barely wait for an answer before demanding to know how the twins were coping, whether they were getting counseling, how sad it was that they were orphaned so young.’
Will’s heart cracked at the pain coating her words. ‘You were also orphaned.’
‘But I wasn’t eight and blond and cute,’ Lu replied.
‘So how did you cope?’ Will repeated his question.
Lu shrugged. ‘I don’t know, actually. The first six months were a bit of a blur. We cried a lot. I remember that. I also remember doing a lot of exercise with the boys—playing soccer with them, taking them to the beach, making them as tired as possible so that we could all just sleep without dreaming, trying to avoid the nightmares.’
‘The boys had nightmares?’
‘Not so much.’
‘You?’
‘Constantly.’
Will lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb along one prominent cheekbone, then he brushed the violet shadows under her eyes. ‘Are the nightmares back, Lu?’
‘No.’
‘But you’re not sleeping?’ He could see the start of a lie, an excuse, then saw her pull it back and opt for the truth.
‘No, not much.’
Will knew that he wasn’t stupid when it came to women; he knew that Lu was thinking. She just wasn’t as good at hiding it as he was. He’d noticed the way her eyes lingered on his lips, caught the shudder of attraction when he brushed past her. He suspected that, like him, she lay awake at night remembering the feel of naked skin, the warmth of lips and the heat of hands.
Dangerous thoughts...
Will pulled back and jumped to his feet before reaching down and pulling Lu to her feet. ‘Punch that bag for another twenty minutes and I guarantee that you’ll sleep well tonight.’
‘I don’t want to sleep.’ The words flew out of her mouth and she didn’t know where they’d come from. Maybe it was because she felt so at ease with him, so connected. ‘One night. That’s it. In the morning we go back to being friends, pretend it didn’t happen.’
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