Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(68)

They stood in silence a minute. “So, we just stand here and wait?”

“Yeah. It’ll be okay, just give it a minute.” Her best friend watched her speculatively. “Are you going to say yes? Did you already say yes?”

“I said nothing yet.”

“And what are you going to say?”

“I’m going to say it to him first, Marianne. Whatever it is.”

“You don’t know?” Marianne’s eyes widened. “How do you not know? Isn’t that one of those instinctive gut things?”

“Not when you’ve got a kid to worry about. Jumping with your gut isn’t usually a good choice.”

“Right. Forgot.” She waited another few seconds. “He’d make a good dad.”

“Yes, he would. That’s not reason enough, though. I’ve known the man two months. We’ve only been together, like that, for two weeks. It’s so fast . . .” Kara nibbled on her lip. “How soon did you know with Brad?”

“That I loved him? Couple weeks . . . we sort of jumped into bed a little faster than you and Graham though.” She opened her door and laid a palm on the seat. “We’re safe.”

“The fact that you have to feel a car’s interior before you get in is scary. Texas is scary.”

“Kara, you haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait.”


*

GRAHAM flexed his hands once more before sliding his boxing gloves on. After they were secured, he wouldn’t be able to move them freely until after the match. He savored the last minute of flexibility before he lost it.

“How you feeling?” Brad sat down beside him in the locker room. By Graham’s estimation, they had another five minutes or so.

“Good. I’m good. Really good.”

Brad glanced around the locker room. “We’re alone. Nobody else here.”

“Fucked up. I’m f*cked up.” He held out his hand, which shook, glove and all. “I’m almost thirty years old. What am I doing this for?”

“Because getting punched is fun?” Brad smiled and bumped his shoulder gently. “Calm down. You’ve got this.”

Graham said nothing.

After another minute, Brad asked slowly, “Did it help, when you had Kara and Zach in the stands at the scrimmage?”

“Marianne’s here, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I know. I’m just asking you. Were your nerves better or worse then?”

“I wasn’t nearly as nervous for that match from the start. It was just a scrimmage. But,” he added with a sigh, “yeah. Them being there . . . I don’t know. It grounded me. Made me remember at the end of it, I would walk away and leave it behind, and have something more important to focus on.”

Brad nodded in agreement, staring at the wall ahead. “She’s here.”

Graham assumed he meant Marianne, so said nothing.

“Kara. She’s here.”

Every electric synapse in his body zapped at once. “Here? In Texas? Here here? In the crowd? I need to see her.”

“Sit down, you idiot.” Brad shoved him back down on the bench. “I didn’t tell you so you could go hopping off to see her like an antelope frolicking in the meadow. I told you so you’d have something out there to ground you.”

“You lied.”

“No, I didn’t. She came. Marianne picked her up at the airport nearly three hours ago.”

She’d been nearby, within touching distance, for hours. Why hadn’t she come to see him?

Because she’d think she was a distraction. Of course.

“I told you because you know that’s going to help you get in there and do your job. You’ve got something to look forward to when you climb out of the ring. So when you’re inside, you get in, you get out. You kick that Army boy’s ass, and go hug your woman. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Coach Willis poked his head in. “Sweeney, you’re on deck. Let’s go.”

Graham picked up his mouth guard and stood with Brad. “If I’d said having Kara here would have distracted me, would you still have told me she was here?”

Brad’s face was nearly comical. “Hell no, you idiot. I came here to win. You can kiss the girl later. Beat someone up first.”

He laughed, then walked out ready for his first match.


*

KARA sat in the stands, wishing she had someone beside her to talk to. Even Zach had been a good boxing buddy, for the sake of company. But Marianne and Reagan both had work to do. Important work. So she would sit down and be quiet and watch in amazement. The last few fights had been interesting. Some were men she knew from the team, and others pitted Army against Air Force, meaning both competitors were strangers to her. She couldn’t help but become excited every time one of the Marines took to the mat, though she had no clue what was going on. During Tressler’s match, she’d actually found herself on her feet, screaming along with everyone else, for him to kick some ass.

It was exhausting just to watch. She also had no clue how the scoring worked, but was relieved when the referee—judge? in-charge person?—held up Tressler’s gloved hand as the victor. Maybe to an experienced spectator, that would have been obvious. To her, it was thrilling.