Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(21)
“Well,” Brad said after thirty seconds of silence. “You really showed that shoe who was boss.”
Graham stood and walked off to the supply closet to grab another lace, ignoring the way his friends—supposed friends—chuckled behind his back. They could eat shit and die for all he cared.
*
KARA settled down on the uncomfortable bleacher and made room for Zach. The event was more crowded than she had originally anticipated. In her world, boxing had never been anything she’d thought twice about. It wasn’t a mainstream sport, for the most part. So it surprised her that enough people cared to make it to the event. Reagan had clearly known, though, as she’d asked both sets of bleachers to be extended from the walls. She had done what she could to brighten the place up, but it was still a simple gym with minimal updates and bad lighting.
Frankly, it sort of added to the ambiance of an underground fight . . . although the event was closely refereed and completely aboveboard. Made it feel a bit more secretive, more intense. More thrilling.
“Mom, when does Graham go up?” Zach asked, bouncing beside her. “When?”
“There’s no time schedule, so I’m not sure.” She picked up the programs—done via Marianne’s pamphlet software, she knew—and pointed. “Looks like he’s second to last. So we might not be able to see him. That’s a long time to wait.”
“Mom. Mooooooom.” Her son turned, eyes wide, mouth dropped open in shock. “We can’t leave before seeing Graham. He’s the best one!”
“How would you even know that?” she asked, smiling a little even as she tried to keep a stern voice. “And remember, you’re still on probation. You have very little wiggle room with which to bargain, young man.”
He grumbled, but subsided.
Secretly, Kara had hoped Graham would go first. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t settle. They hadn’t settled since the evening of the kiss. Everything she’d attempted to keep pushed down, boxed up and closed off had sprung back to life after a minute in his arms. She couldn’t have contained the butterflies even if she’d gone around chasing after them with a net. They were free to float around her system, causing her involuntary giddiness at a moment’s notice.
And now she would see him, in his true element. Despite the fact that she’d never been a huge fan of contact sports, there was something primal and a little exciting about the idea of watching Graham battle against another male.
That probably made her a very sick woman.
Through the first few fights, Kara managed to hold back her revulsion in favor of keeping a close eye on Zach more than the action. Though one man ended up with a cut above his eye, and another a bloody nose, the entire thing was surprisingly less gory than she’d thought it would be. That helped. Zach, however, found the entire thing thrilling, to the point of standing up and pumping his arms when Greg entered the ring and dominated by turning his opponent in circles, dodging and weaving artfully and then throwing a few quick punches that had even Kara’s eyes bugging out. The man was cartoon-superhero fast.
“Mom. Mom! Oh my god, Mom, he’s amazing!” Zach sat back down, or rather flopped back down, his body practically vibrating with excitement and energy. “First he was like bam!” He jutted out a small fist. “Then wham! Bam!” Two more fists, the second nearly missing the head of the woman seated in front of him.
“Whoa, no way, dude.” She captured his next ready-to-fly fist and pressed it down firmly. “Show me later. Make mental notes. Otherwise you’re going to hurt someone.”
He grinned sheepishly, face flushed with the thrill of it and the heat from all the bodies surrounding them. “Sorry.”
Her little boy . . . who wanted so desperately to become a man. Meanwhile, she was doing everything she could to discover a way to slow down time. Before she could think about it, one hand came up to stroke down her son’s head and cheek before resting on his shoulder. He squirmed, but didn’t shrug the touch away.
That wouldn’t last much longer, either.
“And don’t say, ‘Oh my god,’” she admonished belatedly, settling down. Brad’s round was next. She had seen a quick video Marianne had taken of him practice sparring with a fellow teammate before, but it was nothing compared to now. Even with his knee in a brace, the man was methodical and precise. And by the third round, as his opponent seemed to droop like an overwatered daisy, Brad was fresh and ready to go another three rounds. To Kara’s untrained eye, it seemed as though he won less by talent and more by simply outlasting his fellow boxer, waiting for the other man to tire enough to make mistakes and capitalize on them. Since it worked, she couldn’t see cause for complaint.
She couldn’t hold back the smile as he stepped under the ropes and Marianne was beside him in an instant. First to give him a kiss on the cheek, then to walk with him to a corner to inspect his knee. Her friend was as protective of her athletes as any mama hen . . . but that one particular Marine certainly got special attention.
“He’s next.”
“Hmm?” Kara glanced down at her son, then at the program. “No, he’s two from now.”
“Didn’t you hear?” He pointed up at the ceiling, which she took to mean he was referring to the announcement system. The gym’s PA system was so old and outdated, it was difficult to make out anything said. She’d tuned it out from the start. “Things got shuffled around. A few people are hurt or whatever and they couldn’t change the programs fast enough. He’s next. Please say we can stay! Please.”