Free Let Go by Heather Allen Page A

down the row, “I think this one might be
yours.”
    Greylan looks
up and walks toward the place the man implied. Pace, in small
lettering is fitted onto the metal door. He takes a deep breath
placing his bag into that locker. His hand grazes the lettering as
he closes the door.
    As he nears
the ring where Jackson is still leaning while chewing on a
toothpick, he asks, “What made you so sure I’d be back?”
    Jackson stands
and grabs a punch mitt off of the wall nearby, “There are two
people in this world Greylan Pace, fighters and observers. If
you’re a fighter, you’re screwed because you can’t just give it up.
I know you still want it but you’re gonna have to work and it’s
gonna be harder than it ever was. You’re five years older and the
guys you’ll fight are five years stronger.”
    Greylan wraps
his hands and asks taking a deep breath, “Then why are we wasting
time talking about it?”
    A booming
laugh bursts from Jackson as he centers the mitt and angles across
from Greylan. Greylan starts punching the mitt and with each hit he
taunts him claiming that he hits like a girl or that he might as
well give it up. It has the desired effect and Greylan steps it up
focusing on his stance and method. He falls into the familiar
routine that his body knows so well. Jackson’s loud voice gathers
an audience though. Greylan tries to block them out but more
comments spread through the group. He stops punching and looks to
the other gym members. Jackson yells at Greylan still chewing on
the toothpick, “Gonna have to get over it. There’ll always be
someone. Don’t let that be your weakness.”
    The same blond
dude, Jonesy from the day before pipes up, “Let me get at him, Jax.
I bet I could give him a beat down. I heard of him, he had his
chance. I don’t know why you’re wasting your time on that when you
could train this for the pro circuit.”
    Greylan waves
the guy over as his anger rises. Jackson tells him, “Not a good
idea on your first day. Don’t think this is the way to make
friends.”
    Greylan pulls
out his mouth guard and tells him, “I’m not here to make
friends.”
    He looks to
Jonesy and asks, “So you think you are the next big thing?”
    “Yep, I’ll
enjoy kicking your ass.”
    “Really, did
they tell you I killed a man?”
    Jonesy looks
between Greylan and Jackson, his brows are raised in a question, to
gauge how serious Greylan is. He turns back to the gathered crowd
almost as if deciding to change his mind but he firms up his
shoulders and claims, “No, it doesn’t matter.”
    “Whatever you
say.” Greylan chuckles as they both bite their guards and move in a
circle feeling each other out. Greylan makes the first move. He
punches Jonesy in the side which he blocks but immediately follows
it with a sweep of his foot. The connection makes Jonesy lose his
balance; he quickly regains his balance but not before Greylan is
in his face forcing an uppercut to connect with his jaw. Jonesy
grabs his arms and forces Greylan down on his back. He rolls before
Jonesy can land across his body and gets back to his feet. Both men
move toward each other grabbing in a clinch, moving in circles each
trying to take the other down. Greylan takes a deep breath and
tries to sweep Jonesy’s legs out from under him again. This time it
works. He lands on top of him and elbows his chest repeatedly until
a tap vibrates through his shoulder.
    Greylan stands
slowly and thrusts his hand out to his opponent, a trickle of a
smile spreading. Jonesy takes it as his lips spread in a grin. He
looks to Jackson and back to Greylan, “Thanks for not killing
me.”
    Greylan frowns
and looks back to Jackson. The smug expression on his face tells
him all he needs to know. He asks, “That was planned, wasn’t
it?”
    Innocently
Jackson states, “I had to know if you still had anything left.”
    He adds, “I
told you yesterday, don’t waste my time.”
    Greylan jokes,
“So is Jonesy the best you got?”
    Jonesy