Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(71)

“It was terrifying. Watching the others go was bad enough. But Graham?” Kara shook her head. “Horrifying. I think this is just something we will have to agree to disagree on in the future. He can keep his hobby, and I’ll stay home where I can be blissfully unaware of when he gets hit or knocked around. Better that way.”

“You’re talking in future terms. This is good. This is very good. I’m happy for you.” She took a singularly ugly fanny pack from under the table and began to load it.

“Why are you packing a bag? You’re, like, a hundred yards away from the action in here. Can’t you just come back for a roll of tape? And why do you have to wear a fanny pack?”

“Fanny packs are coming back in style. Didn’t you read last month’s Vogue? No? Oh well.” The AT put a tube of some ointment in the bag. “Because I need to have some stuff immediately accessible, not have to run back here for it. You’ve seen how little time they have between rounds. If I need to tape something, or staunch bleeding, I don’t want to run back here. Plus, sometimes these doors stick. I could barely get in here the first time. One of the other trainers had to show me how to wiggle the key just right.”

Kara shrugged. Not her domain.

“Now, the next round is going to start in about ten minutes. Are you staying, or heading back to your hotel?”

“Staying. At least until I tell Graham where I’ll be.” She checked her watch. “It’s been fifteen minutes. Where is he?”

“Debriefing with Coach Ace, I imagine.” Marianne didn’t look up as she continued to pack the fanny efficiently, and with practiced ease. “He does a quick analysis with the guys after every match, while it’s fresh. He’ll give them more in-depth advice later.”

“I see. I’ll let you finish packing. Thanks again for picking me up from the airport.” She started to walk out the door, then turned around. “Oh, and I accidentally told Reagan that you borrowed her car to pick me up. Sorry. Bye!”

She raced from the room just as Marianne’s head snapped up. “What?”

But Kara was already gone, swallowing a giggle. Then she caught sight of him. He stood, in a Marine Corps boxing T-shirt and simple navy mesh shorts, just inside the security rope.

She couldn’t help the grin that exploded over her face, probably matching the same one that he wore. He ducked under the security rope and pulled her into a big hug. Kara wrapped her arms around him and squeezed until she wasn’t sure either of them could breathe. He arched his back, pulling her up until her toes barely touched the ground.

“I’ve missed you,” he said into her hair. “Missed you so damn much.”

“I missed you, too. I’m sorry,” she added, feeling like she was going to start crying. Swallow it back, girl. Now is not the time to get emotional. “So sorry.”

“Shh.” Hand running down her hair, down her back, he soothed. “Shh. We’ll talk later. The whole team has to stay until the last match, but then we’re free until our twenty-one hundred curfew tonight. Nine o’clock,” he clarified when she pulled back and scrunched up her nose.

“I could have done the math, you know,” she said defiantly, then shrugged. “Nice that I didn’t have to. I have a hotel room already. Do you think you could come over there?”

“I’ll see if Reagan can give me a lift over. Or a cab. Is it close?”

“It is. It’s not the best place, but a lot of the nicer ones were sold out. I had no clue this was such a big deal,” she said in awe, looking around the gym full of spectators. Family who had probably come in from all over the country to watch their son, their brother, their husband compete.

“It is, yeah. Biggest thing I’ve ever competed in, for sure.” He kissed her temple as the announcer gave a five minute warning before the next match was set to begin. “I have to sit with the team. Text me the hotel and your room number. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll get myself over there somehow.”

“I’ll probably head over and do some work, maybe check in on Zach.” But she cupped his face in her hands, turning it this way and that to inspect him closely. “No real damage.” But her finger brushed over a small bruise on his cheek. “Not yet, anyway. You’ve got more of this to go.”

“Several more, if I have any say in it. I’m fine.” He captured one hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I love you.”

She wanted to say it back, so much. But a crowded gym that smelled like sweat, musty laundry and—oddly—rubber was not the place for her initial declaration. “I’ll see you later. Good luck to Brad and anyone else who hasn’t gone yet.”

“Thanks.” He kissed her temple, then ducked back under the rope and headed for his team. They were too far away to hear, but she saw Tressler say something. Graham pushed him out of his seat so that he tumbled to the ground. The rest of the team laughed while Tressler gave him a dirty look. Graham sat beside Greg, looking pleased with himself.

Men, she thought. No, not men. Just one. Mine. My man.

My man.

It was a beautiful thought.


*

GRAHAM wiped his damp palms on the back of his shirt. He hadn’t been this nervous since he’d asked Jessica Calbert to the prom. And there was so much more riding on today than a corsage and a coordinating cummerbund.