Page 18 of 4th Degree

His eyes flare with something I don’t understand. It’s how every student refers to him, other than “Coach,” but right now, he’s looking at me in a way he hasn’t before.

Before I can analyze it further, he’s standing to his feet. “Again.”

This time, I execute the takedown without flopping onto his stomach. I go through the steps the way he just showed me to, and I end up with him on the ground and me in sidemount position on top of him, chest to chest. Grinning, I push up onto my hands—and then suck in a breath when I come face to face with a coach I’ve never seen before.

There are only a few inches between us. His hand is still gripping my hip, bracing against me the way you’re supposed to in this position. Suddenly, this sport is the furthest thing from my mind as I swear I see something flash in his blue eyes.

But I can’t read anything on his face. He’s stone, in his expression and in the way he’s frozen on the mat. I distantly wonder what he sees on my face, as I stay as still as him and try to take in the sight of him like this.

By the time he blinks and breaks the spell, the tension between us has become suffocating. I suck down a greedy breath as I scurry to my feet.

“That was good,” comes his gruff voice. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes, so I just nod my silent thanks.

“You can always practice that on your own, or grab someone after class and rep a few on the mats,” he continues. “Don’t stress so much. You’re getting way better.”

Frustration bleeds into my veins, and I plant my hands on my hips. “Doesn’t feel like it. With the amount of time I put into watching fights and breakdowns and seminars, I should be way better by now.”

“Extra work is always going to be a good thing,” he assures me. “Repetition and attention to detail is how any of us get good at this sport. You just need a little structure.” His jaw hardens as he comes to a decision. “If you want some extra help, I could always give you a few pointers after class.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. Even though I very badly want to say yes. For one obvious reason and for another I’m not ready to admit to myself. “I can just keep working on my own, it’s no problem.” Clearing my throat, I add, “I can’t really afford to pay you for private lessons, so?—”

“I wouldn’t charge you,” he interrupts. “This is a thank you for helping Lucy the other day.” A sheepish grin appears on his face. “Besides, it’s good to have someone in here who knows anything about medical things. I have fighters who can sell me computer software and write me a thriller, but none of them could pop a shoulder back into place. You’d be doing me a favor.”

I laugh at that. “To be clear, I’m not a nurse yet, I’m just in school for it. Legally, I have no liability here.”

“Sounds like something a medical professional would say when she’s off the clock.”

I release an exaggerated breath. “I feel like you just offered me a job. Am I the gym nurse now? I signed up here to learn how to hurt people, not to heal them.”

He chuckles and raises his hands in surrender. “No job. No pressure. Just an honest offer. Besides, you didn’t seem to hesitate when you helped Lucy last week. I’ll bet you didn’t even notice you said something, am I right?”

My mouth opens to argue, then closes, then opens and closes again. Finally, I sigh. “Guilty. I’m a perpetual caretaker. It’s my flaw.”

His gaze sears into mine. “That’s pretty far from a flaw, Skylar,” he says.

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t even try. I want to say no, it’s not a flaw. But it’s tiring. So tiring that I come in here just to feel something in my bones that isn’t exhaustion.

But I don’t. And for some reason, I think Dominic might know without me even having to say it.

“How about this,” he says. “On days when you can stay after class for a little bit, and when I don’t have to teach a class, we’ll review what you did in class, and I’ll give you a few pointers for what you need to work on. Nothing huge, just a helpful nudge.” When I thoughtfully chew on my bottom lip instead of jumping at the offer, he says, “Come on. Are you really going to turn me down for some YouTube videos? I’m way better. And smarter.”

“Who said fighting makes you humble.” I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile on my lips. “Okay, yes. I’d love the extra help.” My last words are quiet. “Thank you.”

He looks a little relieved that I’ve accepted. And when he smiles, it doesn’t feel like any of his other smiles.

And I don’t know what that means.

8

COACH

I’m sitting at the front desk when one of my high school students walks into the gym, looking both unsure and curious.

“Nate? What’re you doing here?”

His gaze, which was wandering around the gym, snaps back to mine. “I wanted to talk to you after today’s workout, but you were gone by the time I turned around. I hope it’s okay that I came here.”

I wave him into the gym. “Of course it’s okay. What’s going on?”

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