Page 63 of Finding Hope

“Jon,” Scotch grumbles. “He was going ballistic at his girl one time. I was trying to do the right thing, stepped in to tell him to cool it–”

“And Jon decked him.” Alex laughs. “Knocked you the fuck out, little brother.”

“Whatever.” Scotch rolls his eyes. “I don’t actually have a problem with them, but I don’t wanna watch them fight, either. And I especially don’t wanna watch their smug faces every time they win.”

“Which is every fucking year.”

“Not this year,” Scotch adds. “Handed the belt back.”

“You know why though, right?” Not so smug anymore, Alex’s head droops. “That shit was messed up.”

“Yeah, I know why. I haven’t seen him in months. He hasn’t been into the club.”

“I’ve seen him around,” Alex adds. “He’s staying out of trouble. Finally.”

I’m dying to know what trouble Jon’s been in. What wasmessed up? But I can’t ask, because then I’d have to explain how I know him.

There’s no incentive good enough that I’ll just volunteer that information. It’s a mystery I might never know, so letting it go and taking a sip of my beer, I think about Tink, the tiny chick who just happens to be Jon’s wife.

My brother was crushing on her. I didn’t know that, but it does my heart good to see himfinallylooking at other women again.

17

JACK

PROMISES

“Hands up, Jack! Go around.” Jon’s fist whistles by my face. “Get lighter, faster, fuckin’move!”

Nodding, I skip to the side and work to maintain my stance even as I escape his wild arms. I don’t get even a second to recover before he rushes into my space in an effort to keep me off balance. Skipping to the right and swearing, I shimmy out of the wayjustas he blows past.

“Good,” he pants. “Keep going. Watch that left arm.”

Pressuring me, Jon stays up in my space and gives me no room to breathe. He’s trying to force me to fuck up my footing. He’s trying to force me to give away my tell; my left arm twitches just half a second before I strike.

After a full decade of full-time training, muscle memory is so deeply ingrained, no matter how badly I treated my bodythisyear, it still works, still fights, still moves without my conscious decisions to do so.

Mostly.

My arm gives me away about half of the time.

The current round continues for two more minutes, and when the buzzer sounds, I drop to the floor like a drama llama and pour my half-full bottle of water over my face.

Jon leans against the ropes and wipes his sweaty face on a towel, but I lie on the floor, gasp for breath, and wish I didn’t fuck my lungs up so much this past year.

Water trickles along the side of my face and into my ears, but I simply lie, breathe, and flex my hands.

I’ve never in my life tired this easily. I’ve never hurt this much. But at least I’m not spewing anymore.

At the sound of excited panting, I roll my face to the side and pat the canvas, and the very second my hand touches the floor, Annie jumps into the ring and lies down beside me.

Jon scoffs as she snuggles close. “We’dneverlet anyone else have their dog in here, Jack. Especially not on the mats. What makes you so special?”

Smiling as she licks the sweat off my ribs, I scratch her ears and pull her in close. “She’s family, Jon. I don’t tell you to keep the boys out of here.”

“My boys are humans, asshole!”

I love teasing this guy. “Pretty sure your humans have messed this place up more than she ever has. She hasn’t had an accident in here.”

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