Page 179 of Finding Hope

“Westlin ain’t that green.”

“Reilly uses his weight. He’s tiring Westlin out.”I watch on as Jack knees the other guy in the ribs.“He’s chipping away, chipping away! Interesting strategy.”

Jack and Westlin part suddenly, and escaping, Westlin flees to the center of the octagon. Jack simply chases.“Watch that overhead right!”the announcer says.“Westlin’s moving slow already.”

“Reilly’s got that mouse under his left eye,”Greg announces. The fact that Jack has a black eye almost makes the asshole giddy.“Left, left, left again! Reilly’s jab is lethal!”

“Superman!”

The crowd goes wild, but I have no fucking clue what asupermanis. I know who the fictional character is, but I don’t get how that applies here.

I was ashittysort-of-girlfriend! I don’t know half of what they’re saying.

“Westlin comes in with a left, left, body, left–”

Jack dives forward on the final left, tackles Westlin around the waist,and pushes them to the floor. I never realized how much time fighters spend hugging on the floor, but I feel like I prefer it this way. There are less wild punches thrown when they’re on the floor.

Less meanness.

“This is what I was talking about!”the announcer shouts.“This fight ain’t all stand up! They need a full arsenal to win. Westlin has the jitsu, but Reilly has them all. Knees, knees, left, knees!”His screamed words come just half a second after Jack’s strikes.“He’s doing it! He’s screwing up Westlin’s rhythm.”

The referee jumps in exactly when a loud horn rings through the stadium.

“What a great first round!”

I watch the referee push Jack toward the Kincaid side of the octagon. Instantly, Bobby and Aiden sprint inside with towels and water.

I hang on every tiny detail I can see; Bobby and Aiden’s lips move fast, shouted instructions that no one can hear except the trio of brothers. Jack nods and shouts back, but then the footage pulls away to a slow-motion replay of the last seconds before the bell.

“Jesus.” Groaning, I turn to Steph with a pounding heart and sore hands from scrunching them so tightly. “How did you sit through all his fights, Steph? How’d you not keel over from the worry?”

“Reilly’s known for his knockouts. He’s normally a stand-up guy, as opposed to ground and pound.”The slow-motion stuff continues, but the announcer speaks and the crowd continues to scream.“It wasn’t uncommon for a fight with the Jackhammer to be over by now.”

“He’s got a plan, Greg. I guarantee it.”

The cameras go live again. I follow every tiny micro move Jack makes. His left eye, swollen shut, blood drips from his brow, and his left arm hangs loose at his side.

Aiden spreads some sort of ointment over Jack’s forehead, but I simply stare into his eyes. His breath comes heavy, he allows his brothers to work around him, but he stares into space and chugs the offered water.

“Westlin’s camp is so confused! They thought they knew Reilly, they thought they had him figured out, but he’s brought a new fighter here tonight. He’s been eating his Wheaties and working on some new moves.”

When Jack stands, the crowd grows louder.

“The Jackhammer came here tonight with a plan, and knowing who he has in his corner, I’m not surprised. These guys aren’t new, and they ain’t stupid, either.”

The bell rings and sets my blood on fire.

“Let’s go!”

My heart thuds heavier as Jack and his opponent skip forward. They touch gloves, then step back to bounce on the balls of their feet.

“Westlin, Jackhammer; round two!”

Jesus, I think this might actually kill me.

My stomach rolls as Westlin kicks toward Jack. I expect him to get hurt. I expect Westlin’s leg to slam against Jack’s head, but instead, Jack catches it and traps it between his arm and ribs. Running forward on bare feet, he slams Westlin to the cage and rains fists over his face. They bounce to the floor and have the screaming crowd on their feet.

“Westlin’s forced to the mat!”

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