Page 73 of Kyle

The crowd is cheering, and the sound is deafening, like a Roman coliseum.

Kyle lunges and drives Rafe into the chain link. He gets a hold and takes Rafe to the mat, pinning him. Seconds tick by as the two men grapple, and Kyle gets his brother in a headlock until finally Rafe taps out.

The crowd roars. Green throws his hands in the air, like he just won a bunch of money, and the two brothers break apart.

Red Dog tugs Rafe to his feet, then lifts Kyle’s hand in the air in victory.

The crowd roars again.

When I see Rafe is okay, I slip out the door and down the hall to the main clubhouse. Hurrying past the bar, I see a prospect wiping glasses.

“You okay, ma’am?”

I slip out the door and spot Crystal’s car idling in the parking lot. I climb into the front seat. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem. Who won?”

“Kyle.”

“You sure about this?” she asks.

I nod, and she pulls out.

“My sons are both headstrong, and sometimes they’re stubborn as hell. They make mistakes, I won’t deny it. But they’d never mean to hurt you, Sutton.”

I swivel my head. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I can’t bear to tear them apart. Things haven’t turned out the way I thought they would with Rafe. I thought in time, we’d grow closer, our relationship would deepen. But that just hasn’t happened.”

“And Kyle? Do you have feelings for him?”

I swallow. “That’s why I have to go.”

“What if he has feelings for you?”

“Don’t you see? It’ll always be a thing between them. It won’t work.”

She drives me to Rafe’s, where I pack my bags and leave him a note. Then she takes me to the Diridon Transit Center. I can catch a train to Stockton or a bus to Santa Cruz. I’m not sure which way I’ll go yet.

“I hate leaving you like this,” Crystal says. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes. Thanks for everything.”

“Will you at least let them know where you’re going?”

“I left Rafe a note,” I say.

“I can’t help feeling you’re making a mistake,” she replies, her eyes sad.

“I can’t come between them. I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“All right. I can respect that.” She reaches into her handbag and passes me an envelope. “My number’s in there, plus a little cash for the road.”

“I can’t take that.”

“I insist.” Then she reaches across and hugs me. “It’s never too late to change your mind. You’re always welcome.”

“Thank you.” I slip out of the car and carry my bag into the station. My eyes blur, and I blink away the tears.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

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