Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(31)

“Another good answer.”

“Sorry,” I finally mumbled.

Slate reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I get it, Till. I f*cking know how you feel. You’re hungry for more in life, and that’s a good quality for a man to have. Don’t ever lose that. Stay hungry. Stay driven. Stay focused. But you need to remember that I’m looking out for what’s in your best interest. Always.”

“I know. I appreciate it all. I really do.”

“I know you do, son. So before you go and get soft on me, let’s keep that adrenaline going and get you warmed up. Let’s make a deal. You take him two rounds, then you have my full permission to knock him the f*ck out in the third.”

My eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

Slate always encouraged us to take it the full three rounds. He drilled into us all that the local league was there for practice and experience, not for laying your opponent out. It still happened sometimes, but it was never the goal.

“His trainer is talking all kinds of shit today. This guy’s apparently the new golden boy over at Three Minutes. I saw a video of him fight a few weeks ago, and I swear he’s just a fat kid who can take a punch. But to hear them tell it, he could go ten rounds with Holyfield.”

I laughed at his assessment. “You know, most people would end that sentence with your name.”

It was Slate’s turn to laugh. “Go on. Get out of here. I’ll meet you out there.”

“Thanks, Slate,” I responded, and we both knew it was for more than just taping my hands. It wasn’t enough. But it was all I had.





“HERE WE GO! HE’S UP!” I stood from my metal folding chair to clap.

“So, how long have you known Till?” Derrick asked beside me.

I had been drawing in one of the notebooks I kept stashed in my purse when he’d surprised me by sitting next to me. I’d met him briefly a few times over the years of watching Till fight. There had been a half-hour delay, so we’d had plenty of time to chat while we’d waited for the fights to start.

“Jeez, um . . . eight years. We grew up together,” I answered with a smile.

Derrick was a good-looking guy—I couldn’t deny that. He was a little preppy for my tastes, but he didn’t seem snobby, so I could overlook the slacks. His hair was sandy brown and perfectly styled. He had sparkling, blue eyes. His bright, white smile was blinding, but not in the heart-stopping way Till’s was.

“So, you two . . . together?” he bumbled out uncomfortably.

“No. We’re just friends.”

“Good,” he whispered, and my cheeks heated to pink.

About that time, Till “The Kill” Page entered through a side aisle. I freaking loved watching the guys fight. It was such a rush.

I glanced to the other side of the ring, just as Till’s hulking opponent stepped inside.

“Fuuuck!” I breathed. “He’s huge!”

Till was big, but this guy had him by at least two inches and fifty pounds. Where Till was hard and defined, the man across the ring had a thick layer of fat over muscles I could barely make out.

“They call him the ‘The Brick Wall’ for a reason,” Derrick chimed in.

“Is he any good? Till didn’t mention anything about this guy.”

“They only added him to the card last week. I’m not sure Till even knew who he was. I’ve heard this will be his only amateur fight before he goes pro.”

“Shit! He’s going pro?” I gasped, never dragging my eyes off the ring.

“Yep. Just like me.” He tossed me a toothy grin.

“You’re going pro? That’s awesome! Congrats,” I responded as everyone started sitting back down.

“Thanks. I’m pumped about it. Being able to make a career out of something you love . . .”

He continued to ramble, but I lost my focus when, just as I found my chair, Derrick’s arm slid around the back. It wasn’t touching me, but I was all too aware that it was there. He reclined in his seat and crossed his legs knee to ankle. I took a second to turn away and bite my lip before looking back to the ring.

I was met with a hard glare from hazel eyes.

Till was standing in his corner, shaking out his arms, but his eyes were not homed in on his opponent like they should have been. They were narrowed on me—or, more accurately, the arm Derrick had draped around the back of my chair.

“What?” I mouthed to him, confused. I mean, Till didn’t exactly love when I talked to or dated guys, but he usually just ignored it. The same way I did when we ran into other women who obviously knew him. We were friends—nothing else. However, the inferno brewing in his eyes said otherwise.

He shook his head and turned to Slate, whispering something in his ear.

“No,” Slate said loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowd.

Till shrugged and started bouncing on his toes and pounding his gloves together.

Within seconds, the bell rang and I jumped to my feet.

“Let’s go, Till!” I screamed, causing the couple in front of me to turn around in disapproval. I didn’t care. We were at a boxing match, not the library, and above that, my man—er . . . something like that—was in the ring.

The first round flew by. When the bell rang and the fighters moved to their corners, I glanced down to find Derrick already sitting and scrolling through his phone. His arm was still firmly planted around the back of my chair. I hadn’t torn my attention away from the fight, so I couldn’t be certain if he had watched at all.