Page 13 of Fighter Daddy's Girl

“Seems like it. I mean, it’s like you just flipped a switch and went all savage on me. Money on the line or not, I’ve honestly never seen you like that before. So, what’s up with you?”

I run the towel over my face again, buying myself a little time. Heart-to-heart talks aren’t something I normally partake in. With anybody. Which makes the thought of having one with Tommy, somebody I consider more an acquaintance than a friend, even stranger to me. The truth is, thanks to all the fakes, phonies, and takers I’ve had pass through my life, I’ve distanced myself from almost everybody. I have nobody to talk to. Honestly, even if I want to, I don’t think I’d know how.

Tommy looks at me with an expression like a light is going off in his head. “Oh, this is about the girl. The redhead who was sitting ringside. You’re pissed because of the things I was saying. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Just drop it.”

“No, seriously. Is that why you went all fucking psycho killer on me?”

“I said drop it.”

“Come on, man. We’ve known each other a while, and you’ve never acted like that before,” Tommy says. “I only want to understand.”

Anger is heating the blood in my veins. The last thing I want to be doing right now is having this touchy-feely fucking conversation with him. I don’t have anything against Tommy, but if I was going to have an open-heart kind of conversation with anybody, it’d be Gracie. Talking to her, opening up, and sharing like I did with her the other night was … good. Strangely good. I walked away from that somehow lighter. It was like the burden I’d been carrying on my back for longer than I could even remember somehow lessened.

“If she’s your girl, I didn’t know, man. I would never?—”

I shake my head. “I only met her that night.”

Tommy cocks his head. “You beat me like that over a girl who was a stranger to you?”

“She didn’t deserve the sort of disrespectful shit you were spewing, bro.”

“You dating her?”

“What? No,” I snap. “Like I said, I only met her that night.”

Tommy puts his hands up, his palms facing me in mock surrender. “All right, all right. My bad, man. I’m just saying?—”

“You shouldn’t finish that sentence.”

He chuckles. “All I was going to say is that I’ve never seen you flip out like that over a chick before. She obviously got under your skin. And if you’re that deep into her, you should do something about it. You should take her out.”

I’ve got her number in my phone, but for whatever reason, I haven’t actually worked up the nut to call her just yet. I want to. I want to see her again. But there’s this voice in the back of my fucking head that keeps whispering in my ear. It keeps telling me she’s too young. It keeps telling me I’m more than a decade older than Grace and I have no business spending time with her. Worse than that, it keeps telling me I’m not good enough for her. That she can—and should—do better than me. I want to see her again, but the constant yammering of that goddamn voice has conspired to keep me from calling her.

“Seriously, man. I saw the way she was looking at you, too. That chick is into you,” Tommy says. “Do something about it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“What’s your hesitation?”

“What, are you my fucking social coordinator now?”

“Just trying to help a brother out.” Tommy shrugs. “That’s all. You’re obviously into her. Maybe getting together with her will mellow you the fuck out.”

A chuckle drifts from my mouth. “So, you think me dating her is going to keep me from beating your dumb ass bloody?”

“A man can hope.”

I laugh softly. “Yeah, well. Maybe.”

“Dude—”

“Drop it,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”

“All right. I did my part. If you want to keep being a grumpy, miserable prick, that’s your call, brother.”

“Yeah. It is,” I counter. “Anyway, my guy is here to train.”

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