Free Brawler by Tracey Ward Page B

match.
    He was going camping with most of the guys from the football team. Sort of a goodbye/going away deal for us seniors. I had been invited but I had this bout I absolutely wouldn’t bail on, but more importantly I just didn’t want to go. Miner and Jenner would be there, alcohol would be flowing, and I had vowed the second I walked out of that jail cell that I wouldn’t drink again until I was legal. I was back on track from my brief, horrifying slip up and I was determined not to do it again. Life wasn’t likely to hand me a third chance at getting it right.
    When we got to the gym I hefted my bag of gear onto my shoulder and scanned the surrounding neighborhood. No familiar faces or cars.
    “Is this guy something you gotta worry about?” Callum asked.
    “I worry about every opponent.”
    “All of them?” he asked suspiciously. “I thought you were good.”
    “I am good, but so are they and the second I start thinking I’ve got a fight won before I even get inside the ring is the day I start losing. I go into every fight feeling like I already lost. Like I’m digging myself out of a grave.”
    “Seriously? And you like doing this?”
    “I love it,” I answered honestly, heading inside.
    “Is that how everyone boxes?”
    “No. Everyone’s got their own outlook. That’s mine.”
    “Did your coach teach you to fight like that? Like a loser coming up from behind?”
    “No,” I replied curtly, tossing my bag on the floor and scanning the small crowd inside. “It’s how life did.”
    “Who are you looking for?”
    “Dan. He said he was going to try to bring Jenna to this one.”
    Callum’s eyes widened. “The beanpole? In here?”
    I grinned. “Yeah. She wants to come watch. It’s her birthday this month and she asked Dan if he would sneak her to one of my bouts as a present, so don’t ever mention it to your parents. I don’t want your mom saying anything to Karen. She doesn’t want her here. She doesn’t like the neighborhood.”
    “How old is she now? Fifteen?”
    “Turning fourteen.”
    “She gettin’ hot?”
    I scowled at him. “She’s not hot. She’s just a kid.”
    Callum snorted. “Dude, fourteen is not a kid. And if she gets half as hot as Laney, I’ll wait in line all night to get with that.”
    My muscles clamped down tight, angry. “It’d be tough to stand that long on two broken fucking legs, wouldn’t it?”
    “Whoa,” Callum said calmly, putting his hands up. “Take it easy. I shouldn’t have said that. I was talking out of my ass. I know she’s like a sister to you.”
    “She’s not my sister. She’s my friend and a kid.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    I ran my hand through my hair roughly. I felt a tightening in my gut that I didn’t bother trying to tamp down. It was the anger. The animal.
    The idea of Jenna walking into school next year, the beautiful baby sister of one of the most notorious party girls on campus, made me sick inside. She wasn’t Laney, not by a long shot, but I knew she struggled with everyone expecting her to be. I worried how she’d be treated by guys on campus from Laney’s fan club, and I wouldn’t be there to stop it.
    “Do me a favor,” I told Callum. “On this camping trip you’re going on, you tell every last one of the underclassmen that no one lays a hand on Jenna Monroe next year, you got it? No one. I mean it. I’ll take teeth as trophies.”
    “You got it. I swear.”
    “Good.”
    He spun his keys in his hand thoughtfully before warning, “You know Jenna will be pissed if she finds out you did this, right?”
    “Yeah, I know. I’ll take that beating when it comes.”
    And it’d be worth it.
    ***
     
    Four hours later Callum was gone, I was about to enter the ring, and both Dan and Jenna were nowhere to be found. I’d texted Dan to see if Operation Smuggle Nonpareil was still in effect and he’d promised me we were greenlit. So then where were they?
    I needed to get my head in the ring and out of the meager