Page 115 of Finding Hope

I can’t get enough of her. I don’t want to miss a single message.

Rolling his eyes, Bobby stalks across the ring. “Jack! Let’s go. We’re not done rolling.”

“Hang on,” I murmur through my mouthguard. “Be there in a sec.”

“We should ban phones in this gym,” Jon grumbles. “Install some signal blocking foil or some shit.”

I roll my eyes and shut my text window. Throwing my phone down to the canvas, I turn back. “Don’t be so damn dramatic, Nancy. I was just replying.”

“Yeah, but you were just replying now, and an hour ago, and an hour before that.”

I lift my brow at Bobby’s mini tantrum. “You saying you wouldn’t reply to Kit?” I look at Jon. “Or Tink? I bet you asses won’t be breaking out the tinfoil anytime soon, because there’s no way in hell you’ll risk not hearing from them. Shut your yappers and let’s train.You’reslowing us down, now.”

“Still think it was a waste that I gave you my belt, asshole. I shoulda made you fight me for the damn thing. Fuck family. Fuck brothers. I shoulda made you work for it.”

Fuck family.He’s such a liar.

Jesus, anyone would think he’s having a midlife crisis… at thirty-five. At the time he ‘gave’ me his belt, Bobby was all for retiring. He was done. He had nothing left to prove. He had all the money he’d ever need, and he’d been working with me for years. He was ready for me to step up.

But now, especially this past year, he continues to bitch about wasted opportunities, like maybe he’s not quite as retired as he thought he was.

“You can jump back into the circuit, old man. Nobody’s stopping you. Let’s see if your fat ass can keep up.”

“I don’t want back into the circuit,” he snaps. “I’m thinking we just organize our own fight night. Like back in the old days. Development day. No money, no ranking, no TV. Just you and me. Winner takes respect.”

“I don’t have time for your midlife crisis,Brian Earl Spilner.”

“But you have time to answer your girl’s texts while we train?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “I’ll always have time for her.”

He bites down on his twitching lip, but I see the smile. He isn’t mad. He’s never mad. And I know damn well he’s happy for me.

He just gets off on bitching.

“Whatever. We’ve got a few hours left. Roll. Earn your dinner.”

Sighing, because I’d much rather be rolling with Bambie, I step forward and push my mouthguard back into place. When Bobby’s eyes light with competition, I lift my fist like I’m tired, but inside, I’ve revving to go.

Hours later, I finish up in the shower, comb my hair with my fingers, throw my bag over my shoulder, and follow the guys into the parking lot.

Searching his pockets, Bobby turns a full three-sixty like he’s a puppy who lost his tail. “You gonna be at home tonight?”

I scratch Annie’s ears and shrug. “I don’t know. Bambie wants to hang out, but I dunno what we’re gonna do.” I run a nervous hand through my hair. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Distractedly, he continues to pat his pockets. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well… So, I think I’m ready to stand on my own two feet again.”

“You always stood on your own feet, kid. What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m ready to move my ass out of your house again.”

Pausing in an instant, his search goes forgotten and his eyes narrow. “You’re staying at the estate though, right? Don’t leave. That’ll hurt your sister.”

“I’m staying. But…” I sigh. “I don’t wanna live inmyhouse, B. There are ghosts in there. I can’t live there.”

Bringing a hand down on my shoulder, he nods. “I get that. It’s cool. There are two spares, you can have either of them, your choice.”

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