There’s blood and sweat, maybe spit, some tears as his opponent’s nose makes a horrifying crunch. When Luca said training, I thought he meant push-ups and squats. Maybe some carefully contained pretend fights with protective padding.
Instead he’s wearing nothing but shorts slung low on his hips, gloves on his hands, and a mouth guard. The fight doesn’t seem to have rules. Trainers stand on either corner, hurling encouragement that sounds more like insults. Other fighters stop their training to watch Luca work. He takes out one man, then another. Then another.
“He’ll be okay.”
The voice startles me, and I turn to see a slender woman with brown hair and dark eyes. She’s sitting on the bleachers a couple rows back, a book folded open beside her.
“You look a little tense,” she says with a sympathetic smile. “Colin will take good care of him.”
I glance back at the ring, looking closer at the rough man outside Luca’s corner. “Colin?”
“He’s working with Luca. I saw you come in with him.”
“Oh. He’s a trainer?”
“Kind of. He used to fight. Now he trains fighters, but he’s real selective about it.” She grins. “None of the other trainers wanted to work with Luca, considering how little time he had. But that’s the kind of challenge Colin likes.”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t realize he’d be so far behind. Are you sure he’ll be safe?”
“For training, definitely. The fights can get dicey.”
I’m here to prevent violence. Not to cause it. “I told him he shouldn’t.”
She laughs. “If he’s anything like Colin, he won’t budge once he gets an idea in his head. I’m Allie, by the way.”
“Beth,” I say, feeling sheepish. She assumes that I’m with Luca, like we’re dating or something. What would she think if she knew Luca was only doing this to protect me? To protect Delilah? That he risked his safety for me?
“Are you new in town?” she asks.
“Very. We haven’t been to the hotel yet.”
Her mouth drops. “I can’t believe Luca brought you straight here. I’m going to have to talk to him. Or maybe just smack him for you.”
“It was my idea,” I say quickly. “I didn’t want to wait alone.”
She softens. “Well, feel free to talk to me while you’re here. Once the guys get into this fighting stuff, they’re in their own world. Us girls have to stick together.”
I don’t want to get close to someone. Don’t want to feel hope, only to be disappointed again. But the allure of friendship pulls too strongly. “Thank you,” I say, feeling shy.
A little girl with a pink tutu and a ponytail hops up the bleachers. I can’t tell how old she is—maybe six. Maybe seven. “Mama! I’m hungry. Can I have a pretzel? Is it time to go? Ms. Ruby said she would braid my hair, but I like a ponytail better.”
Allie’s face lights up with a love so bright it almost hurts to see. “Hey, Bailey. Look who I found. This is Ms. Beth. She’s here with Luca, the fighter your daddy is working with.”
The little girl makes an o with her mouth. Her cheeks flush pink. “Hi.”
Is this what Delilah will look like when she’s older? She has the same dark hair, straight and thick, unlike Delilah’s lush curls. They have the same wide eyes and baby-pink lips. My muscles feel tight, but I manage a smile. “Nice to meet you, Bailey.”
Then the little girl is back to tugging on her mother. Allie laughs while she extracts an apple. “Eat your fruit and then you can get a pretzel from the stand. I’m not sure when Daddy will be finished, so maybe you and I can stay for another twenty minutes. Then we’ll go home and have dinner. Okay?”
“Okay!” Bailey skips off, the picture of childhood innocence.
It should look wrong against the backdrop of harsh concrete and violent men. But even their cold expressions soften when she skips by, crunching into her apple with vigor. She’s completely at home, completely comfortable. Completely safe.
“That girl,” Allie says in a rueful tone. “Do you have any?”
My throat sticks. “One. She’s younger than Bailey. Twelve months.”
“Ohh, still a baby. I miss Bailey being that young.” Then she makes a face. “Though I wouldn’t go back to that time for anything.”
Even though her voice is light, I sense that she’s seen real darkness. I don’t want to ask, but I’m drawn to the shadows. They ground me. They remind me of home.
“Colin mentioned that you were going through a hard time,” she says softly.
The admission is torn from me. “I can’t seem to get away from it.”
Her eyes look older than her years. “You don’t have to tell me the details. If it helps you to know, I don’t mind telling you a little of my story. Colin isn’t actually her daddy. We met four years ago, when I was still struggling.”
Bailey’s childish confidence takes on a new depth as I realize she’s already experienced loss. Grief. The way Delilah’s experiencing it, before she’s even old enough to know. “What happened to her father?”