Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(57)

“Can I eat it?”

Kara watched, stepping back a little to let Graham handle this one on his own. She knew what he’d made—he’d called her twice to be positive it was okay—but Zach didn’t.

He hooked an arm around Zach’s neck and pulled him in for a side hug. “Kid, I’m going to make you a promise. I will never invite you over for a meal you can’t eat. If I’m serving it to you, you know you can eat it. Deal?”

“I still have to check,” he said slowly, as if unsure it was okay to correct an adult. “Because it’s important.”

“Smart. Then that’s two promises. I promise to serve food you can eat, and also promise to not get offended if you double-check.” Rubbing a hand over his head briskly, Graham let him go to get a drink. “And we’re having pizza.”

Kara smiled when Zach looked at her and she nodded. He’d gotten the specific brand of frozen pizza she’d pointed out, and rarely bought, because of how expensive it was.

Zach whooped, then went to get himself a drink from the fridge. Kara kissed Graham’s cheek. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Thank me again later, when we send the midget into the living room to start up the Xbox,” he suggested.

She smiled at that, then set the table.

They ate and talked, and laughed more than once. Kara had the heart-panging realization that this could have been their life, if things had been different.

Stop that. Not your fault, not worth picking at the scab.

After she’d collected the dishes—“You cooked, I’ll wash”—she nudged Zach. “Get the box.”

“Oh, right!” He ran to the living room where he’d left it, and brought it back to the table. When Graham shot her a look, she shrugged. Zach had told her what he was doing, but she had no clue what was actually in the box.

“This,” he said proudly, sitting beside Graham and scooting the box over to him, “is your Good Luck box. Mom said we probably won’t see you again before you go, and this tournament is important for you, so I made you this.”

Graham stared at it for a moment. Then he reached over and tugged Zach’s chair closer, letting his arm fall across the young boy’s shoulders. “Well, let’s open it.”

Kara started to wash the plates to give them a chance for some privacy . . . sort of. She heard her son explain he’d written a letter, but he couldn’t read it until the night before his match. A lucky penny, a picture of a gold medal he’d colored in and written Graham’s name on, a few other assorted items a boy likes to grab and consider good luck. Smooth sticks, cool pebbles, the various flotsam and jetsam that appeals to kids.

“And this is me and mom. Because I figure you’re good for us, so we might be good luck for you.”

Kara whipped around, dish towel dropping from her hands.

Graham held the photograph carefully at the edges. She knew that photograph. Had seen it thousands of times, framed on her wall. Zach had taken it from the frame and given it to the man she was dating. The man he wanted to keep in their lives.

“I’m, like, an hour old. Right, Mom?” Zach’s smiling face turned to her. She nodded, unable to speak. “The nurse took it and gave it to Mom. I guess that’s just something the nurses do when you have a baby.”

It is when you have nobody else there to do it for you.

“It’s just a picture I like, so . . .” Zach’s voice trailed off as he realized Graham still hadn’t said anything. The lump in Kara’s throat grew, until she wanted to claw at it. “I didn’t ask Mom. I should have, but I really wanted you to have it, because Mom looks really, really happy and I look funny.”

Graham cleared his own throat, then gently bumped his temple against Zach’s. “Thanks, kid. That’s . . . that’s some serious luck right there. I can’t lose now.”

Zach threw up his fists and yelled out, then jumped up and ran for the living room. “I’m gonna set the Xbox up. When you’re ready for a beat down, come on in!”

Kara finished the last dish and set it on the drainer to dry, wiping her hands on the dish towel. Graham’s large hands settled on her hips, drawing her back against him with a soft gasp. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t hard as stone. His hands slid around to rest on her stomach, his chin resting on her head. His heartbeat was steady against her ear when she turned a little.

“I’ll make a copy of the photo and get you the original back.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” he said quietly as they both stared out the window over the kitchen sink. “Don’t say anything back. Just hear the words and know I mean them. I love you. I love you both.”

She cried silently, because there was too much built up inside her to do anything else. It hurt so much, so very much. But he simply held her and let the tears fall without trying to stop them. He understood even that . . . that she needed to release some of the sadness and tears were the only way to get the job done.

After a few minutes, she patted his top forearm. “Better go knock my kid down a peg. He’s too cocky for his own good.”

“Consider it done.” He kissed her cheek, where the tears were still damp, and squeezed her once more before letting go.


*

HOURS after Kara and Zach had gone home, Graham laid on the floor of the gym with Brad and Greg. They’d each taken about five yoga mats from the stash kept for Yoga Tuesdays and piled them up to form the world’s worst cots.