“Fucked up. I’m fucked 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.
She watched as Brad walked beside Graham, wearing a silky red robe trimmed with gold. Marine Corps colors. Brad took the robe as he walked to the corner where Coach Willis and Cartwright stood, then settled down in a seat on the front row with the rest of the team.
God, Graham was gorgeous to look at. A Greek god come to life. She wanted to touch him now. Give him a hug, whisper something encouraging in his ear. Stroke her hand down his back, feeling every ripple of muscle under her fingertips as she did so . . .
Okay, so maybe that last one was more for her pleasure than his. Who cared? The man was magnificent.
Unlike his teammates before him, he looked to be scanning the crowd. Had Brad told him she was here? She’d had enough time before his match to find him and tell him good luck. But in her mind, that would have distracted him from the purpose. They had so much to talk about, so much to discuss. Too much to cram into one before-match conversation. Better he have his full attention on the task at hand so he could escape from this round unscathed, then talk later.
Those dark eyes seemed to take in the crowd in quick sections, even as Coach Willis started talking to him. He nearly missed her; she felt his eyes actually rake over her as they kept scanning, then they zeroed back in on her.
She was in a crowd of five hundred plus—on her side of the stands, anyway—and he’d still managed to find her. He must be a champion Where’s Waldo? player.
Raising her hand a little, she smiled and gave a tiny wave.
His grin broke out, a little distorted from the mouth guard, but she knew that was what he meant. He didn’t wave, just sent her a wink—at least, she thought it was a wink, hard to tell from this distance—and nodded once. She understood it was an acknowledgment there would be more to come, but now, he had a job to do.