Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3) (21 page)

“Hey, girl.”

She shrieked and jumped a mile high. Hand over her racing heart, she turned to find Reagan standing behind her . . . or rather, towering over her. “How freaking tall are your heels today?”

“A mile. The more stressful the situation, the higher the heel. It's my coping mechanism. You must be excited. He won!”

He won.
She breathed in, then out, then out some more as Reagan squished her with a big hug. Kara hugged back. “Thanks for letting Marianne borrow your car.”

“She borrowed my car?” Reagan pulled back, a look of confusion on her face. “What?”

“Uh, never mind. I'm going to hit the restroom while I can. See you later!”

Sorry, Marianne.

*   *   *

GRAHAM
shook a little as Brad yanked off his gloves. He could have done it himself, with a little effort, but his hands were still cramped, and the shaking wouldn't help.

Grabbing a pair of scissors from the supply table, Brad waited. “You gonna stop shaking so I can cut your tape off? Otherwise you might lose a finger.”

“I'm trying,” he said through clenched teeth, then growled when he flexed his fingers wide and they only shook more violently. “God damn it.”

“Adrenaline. Just give it a minute.” Brad set the scissors down. “Shake it off, walk it out, whatever you need to. No big.”

It was embarrassing the match had affected him this
much, but then again, it was the biggest match he'd ever competed in. That in itself made it a bit of an anomaly.

Also an anomaly . . . having his future wife in the stands. Because there was no way he'd let Kara tell him she flew down to watch him compete as a friend. She and Zach were his, end of story.

The door opened and Greg sauntered in, looking supremely pleased with himself. And he should be . . . he'd trounced his Air Force opponent earlier in the day. “Winner winner, chicken dinner. Congrats, man.” He gave Graham a slap on the back. “Way to keep it up. So far, in the points, we're ahead. Close margin with Army, but we're holding strong. Long as this pansy-ass grandpa's knee keeps him upright, we should be good to go.”

“This pansy-ass grandpa still needs to cut some tape,” Brad said mildly, holding out his hand for Graham's first wrist. “Your parents come down to watch, Sweeney?”

“No, they couldn't make it. They'll be watching online though, as the matches get uploaded to streaming. I'll call them later. Your mom and stepdad come?”

“Yup. First time they met Marianne, too. Big week for everyone.” Brad's grin turned smug. “Marianne was all worried about it, though God knows why. My mom practically wanted to adopt her after she watched Cook ream some Army yokel for messing with her rolls of tape. You know how Cook is about her athletic tape.”

“She loves it almost as much as her pamphlets. Ow,” he grumbled as Brad pulled off the tape, and a little wrist hair.

“Sorry, if your arms weren't so damn hairy,” Brad muttered.

“Consider waxing?” Greg asked with a grin.

“Bite me.”

“He's just anxious to get out there and run to Kara. It's going to be like watching two lovers run in slow motion across a field of flowers, arms wide open.”

Brad scoffed at Greg's imagery. “Don't make me throw up.”

“You two have lived together for too long,” Graham said thoughtfully. “Remember back when you hated each other? Those were the good days. Let's go back to that.”

“Done,” Brad said, pulling the last of the tape off. “You know the coaches aren't going to let you leave yet. You'll have to stay and watch the rest of the matches before we head out to dinner.”

“No group dinner tonight,” Greg reminded him. “Remember? Coach Ace said we could mingle with friends and family tonight, long as we're back in our rooms by twenty-one hundred hours.”

He considered a moment, then nodded. “That's enough time.”

Both Greg and Brad grinned at him. “Go, before you gross me out. I've got to start getting ready for my own match.”

“Good luck, man.” Graham gripped both of his shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes. “You've got this, grandpa.”

“Fuck off,” he replied mildly. “Go kiss your girl.”

“Don't have to tell me
twice.”

21

K
ara found Marianne wrapping a Marine's ankle in a small room that served as the training room. From the looks of it, she was sharing the space with two other trainers. Levi was nowhere to be found. When she asked, Marianne rolled her eyes and slapped the Marine on the arm. “Off you go. I sent him out for lunch. He was annoying the shit out of me. Nothing but moping from that kid, combined with evil looks at any Marine who walks in here. It's like he blames them all for Nikki's stupidity, not her. I don't get it.”

“He's young, and infatuated. The young and infatuated aren't always rational.” Hadn't she been the same way with Henry eleven years ago? Though she loved Zach with all her heart, it wasn't untrue to say he had been the result of an irrational, hormonal teenage choice.

“No kidding. Anyway, he was in the way, especially since I have so little space to work with.” She sent Kara a disgusted look that said, without words, just what she thought
of the space she'd been allotted. “Keep me company for a few minutes. How'd you like watching a real match?”

“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.

When he knocked on the door to Kara's hotel room, it took her a few moments to open the door. When he did, she
was on the phone. She smiled and held the door open. He closed it behind him quietly.

“Uh-huh, then what?” She waved him in, then just took his hand and led him into her hotel room. It was a lower-end hotel chain. A step above a roadside motel, but not a very large step. When she'd said she wasn't coming, he'd cancelled the hotel reservations at the decent hotel just outside the main gate. Now he wished he hadn't.

“Well, I'm glad you stood up for yourself. Oh, really?” Her smile grew as she sat on the corner of the queen-size bed. Other than the lone desk chair, it was the only place to sit. “I'm sure he'd love to hear that. Do you want to tell him? Yeah, he's right here. Okay.” Eyes bright, she held out her phone. “It's Zach. He wants to say hello.”

Everything inside him lit up. “Hey, Zach, what's up, bud?”

“I almost got in a fight at school!”

That made him blink, then look at Kara. She smiled expectantly. “Almost?”

“Yeah, a kid was making fun of my EpiPen case, calling it a purse and sh—stuff. And I wanted to hit him.”

Oh boy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Zach, that—”

“But I didn't, 'cause I remembered how you were talking about not beating up on people who aren't at your same level. Like when you took it easy on that guy during your scrimmage. And Danny's not at my level at all. He's an idiot.”

Graham's lips twitched. “Really.”

“Uh-huh. But then someone else heard him and told the teacher and he got in trouble anyway for being a bully and I didn't even have to rat him out or throw a punch. And I thought about you.”

His heart simply swelled in his chest until he thought he might pass out. Sitting beside Kara on the bed, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in tight. He had to force the words around the lump in his throat. “I'm proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks. I'm proud of you, too.” He paused. “Is that stupid of me to say? Because I'm a kid and you're a grown-up?”

“No,” Graham said hoarsely. “Not stupid at all.”

“Mom said you won today. So, like, good job. Did you remember to bring the good luck box?”

“I sure did. There's no way I could have done it without the box.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, then slid the photo he'd scanned and copied from his wallet. The young Kara, and infant Zach, stared back up at him. Kara sucked in a breath beside him. When he looked at her from the corner of his eye, she had one hand over her mouth, another on her heart.

“I wish I could have gone. School sucks sometimes.”

Clearing his throat, he bit back a moan when Kara pressed a kiss to his neck. “Yeah, sometimes. Hey, I'm going to give you back to your mom now, okay? Keep up the good work. You're an awesome kid, Zach.”

He handed the phone back to Kara before he unmanned himself and cried. With a deep breath, he listened to Kara finish the call while he put the photo back in his wallet. She instructed him to listen to Mr. and Mrs. Cook—which explained how she'd managed to get away—and be careful. Then she hung up.

“He was so excited,” she said softly. “So excited to say he'd been like you. Like his hero.” She smiled a little, though it wobbled, and she looked at the wall across from the bed, as if she couldn't quite look him in the eye. “His hero worship knows no bounds.”

Her voice was a little off, and he couldn't tell if she was pleased with Zach's hero worship, or disappointed. “I'm proud of him. He made a great choice.”

“I would love you for that alone.” Her voice trembled, and she covered her lips for a moment, still not looking at him. “For giving my boy a great man to look up to. I could love you for just that. I love Brad and Greg for that. And Mr.
Cook. Good men that my son can emulate, learn from, grow into.”

Had she put him in the same category as his buddies, as an old man?

“But I don't just love you for that.” She shifted now to look at him, one leg on the bed, one off. “I love you because you make me feel alive. Because you woke me up, and made me want to be more than just Zach's mother again. Made me realize I could be more. And because you don't look at me and see a broken woman who needs to be taken care of. You see something precious you want to care for. There's a difference.”

“Kara.” He couldn't say more. Just couldn't.

“Let me finish, please. I won't get it out, otherwise. I was wrong, the day before you left, to be upset with you. I wasn't wrong to be surprised, because clearly you'd done something without telling me first. That's not unreasonable.”

“No, it's not.”

“Shh. But my anger was misplaced. I had to work through it first. That whole ‘being precious' thing? It's new to me. Having someone swoop in and try to take over, or control me . . . that's not new. And so I reacted poorly.”

He waited, because he didn't want to be shushed again.

“And so,” she said after a deep sigh, “it was with great reflection and a good chat with my lawyer—who likes you, by the way—that I came to realize we were shooting for the same thing, and to get mad about what you'd done was to cut off my nose to spite my face. You got a reaction out of Henry. A good one. He's officially amenable to the termination.”

For a second time, his heart swelled. “Thank God.”

“Yes, exactly. But I want to make something clear. I was doing it myself. I'd met with Tasha that same day to get the paperwork started. Before—or maybe right at the same time—you went to Henry's home to confront him. I'd made the choice to do so. Do you know why?”

He shook his head, though he hoped he did.

“Because I wanted to be free. Free to make the choice. Maybe we wouldn't work out, for whatever reason. Maybe I wanted to get married to someone who lived in Boston, or Copenhagen.”

That made him roll his lips in to keep from smiling.

“Or maybe I just wanted to take my son to see the Grand Canyon. I wanted the choice, without an axe being held over my head. So I decided to take the controlling step. The step that gave me my power back. The one where I got my choice back.”

“And?”

“And I choose you. I love you. Zach loves you, too, which is nearly as important as me loving you.”

“Nearly,” he agreed, itching to reach for her.

“But even if I didn't love you—which I do—you would forever be special to me as the man who influenced me, who encouraged me, who made me want to take that step toward independence. Now I get them both. My independence, and you.”

“Hell yeah, you do.” He reached for her then, because he couldn't do anything but that. She wanted the choice, but his choice was long gone. She was it for him, come hell or high water.

Her tank top came off almost by magic, with her bra quickly following. They rolled and slid around the slick bedspread, tearing off each other's clothing until they were naked as the day they were born. He entered her in a slow thrust, hooking one of her knees with his elbow to change the angle and deepen his penetration.

Her head tossed around on the pillow, thrashing and causing her hair to spread in a wild tangle. “More, more. Here.” She took her leg and bent until her thigh was all but parallel with her torso, her knee next to her ear.

Hot damn. Thank you, yoga.