Right after our honeymoon ended, my husband said it was time for me to learn “the rules of being a wife.” I calmly changed into my boxing clothes and gloves.

straps with my teeth.

“Perfect timing,” I said. “I need a training partner.”

Derek laughed. He knew I worked at a neighborhood gym, but he assumed I handled memberships and cleaned equipment. He had never asked why my knuckles were scarred or why a framed photograph in my office showed me holding a national championship trophy.

He stepped toward me.

I continue reading …