Take Me On

“I don’t want to fight Conner. I want Matt and I want him suspended from his gym.”


“You have a decent shot of standing after three rounds with Conner, but you’re going to make it emotional by going after Matt. How are you going to keep your head on the game plan in the cage when Matt rattles you? When he calls me names? When he calls me a slut?”

The bastard will be dead if he goes there. “I’ll be fine.”

“When are you going to learn? This isn’t a tough man contest where guys beat their chest, then sees who hits harder. This is the ultimate chess match. Yeah, you’ve got to be strong and have skills, but a lot of times the smarter guy wins.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. Matt’s a moron.”

“He’s trained—a machine—and that’s what I need you to be. No emotion. When I yell at you to watch for something or to do a certain combo, I need you to do it. You have to be focused and search for those open moments. Not pissed off and looking for vengeance because if you lead with your emotions, you won’t find vengeance. You’ll find your ass handed to you.”

“All noted,” I say. “Are we done, because I’ve got a fight to start.”

“When are you going to stop acting on every impulse? It’s going to get you killed.”

“I’ll stop.” I clutch her hand and she tries to yank it back, too pissed at me to let me touch. I flash her a grin and she rolls her eyes, annoyed I can easily disarm her. I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingers. “After I settle this with him.”

“You’re like loving someone sentenced to death row.”

“But you love me.” I drop her hand and stalk to the corner. Matt places his tray at a spot at the end of the table and laughs as he says something to his friends. His low-life little brother, Conner, sits at his left-hand side. No more game playing. It’s time we call this fight what it is: a war.

Matt’s head snaps up as my fingers grip his tray and I push it off the table. The tray, a plastic plate, two bowls and a carton of milk clank and bang to the floor. Food splatters everywhere.

“My bad,” I say. “I must have tripped.”

“He’s mine alone.” Matt jumps to his feet as well as the rest of his crew, but before Matt can gain traction, I grab his collar and slam him into the wall. “If you look at Haley again, talk to Haley again or touch Haley again, I’ll kill you. You want to hit someone, you’re hitting me. Got it?”

A shadow darkens his features and he knows I know. Matt’s fist flies for my face and my guard goes up and I block the blow. My jab immediately retaliates. Purple shirts are everywhere as the school’s security guards pummel us.

Matt lunges for me. “You’re fucking dead, Young!”

“Bring it!”

He points as the security guards pull him back. “It’s you and me in the cage. You and me!”

I relax so the security guards ease up on their manhandling. Mission accomplished.





Haley

The cutting of vegetables turns into a rote movement. The sizzle of the meat on the stove is the saving buzz that drowns out the noise from the living room and keeps me from blowing my brains out. Out of the corner of my eye, Jax drums his fingers in a heavy metal beat against his arm and gives the floor a death glare. “I can help you cut vegetables.”

Chop, chop, chop. The onions on the butcher block shape into smaller pieces. “It’s better if we keep you away from sharp objects.”

“True. Nice what your boy did at lunch today. I found an ounce of respect for him.”

I sigh loudly. West got suspended for the rest of the day over his stupid stunt with Matt. “He’ll be fighting Matt now.”

Jax grunts. “Like he wasn’t going to be fighting him before.”

“Do you think West will be ready?” Because I sparred, Jax and Kaden have upheld their end of the agreement and have been helping me train West. Jax has been working with him on boxing and Kaden on grappling.

Jax has that thoughtful-owl look again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s got raw talent, but he’s just that—raw. Plus he’s got a hell of a temper. You’ve gotta tell him to control it.”

“I have.”

“Then tell him again.”

My uncle’s voice rises. “...biggest screwup on the planet...” Jax’s mom hums a church hymn louder from her forever sanctuary in her bedroom. She’s mending something...again.

I pour more oil into the skillet, so the hissing sound of the fryer will mask listening to my uncle berate my younger cousin for walking into the house with dirt on his sneakers.

“It could catch fire if you do that,” Jax says. Our eyes meet and an insane spark of hope stirs within me and the sad part is the same delirium burns in Jax’s eyes.

“The Red Cross gives shelter to people whose homes burn down.” I return to the vegetables. “In small disasters they often give hotel rooms. Sometimes multiple rooms depending upon the size of the family.”