The gym behind the garage smelled like sweat and old leather while music thumped quietly through blownspeakers and the heavy bag in front of me swung harder every time my fists connected with it.
“You’re dropping your shoulder before you throw. Anybody paying attention could read that coming.” Brax said.
“Then they should move faster.” I shot back while driving another punch into the bag.
“That attitude gets teeth knocked out.” He said.
I stepped back breathing harder while sweat slid down the back of my neck and irritation crawling under my skin because he was right.
“Again.” Brax said.
I reset my stance and threw another combination while forcing myself to stay balanced.
“Better.” He admitted.
“Wow. I almost felt proud for a second.” I muttered.
“Don’t get emotional about
