Page 49 of A Little Broken

“Besides,” he continues, “You said nothing official. I assume you still spar?”

“Here and there,” I admit. “Depends on downtime.”

He grins. “See, I knew it was still in there.”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You can take the man out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the man.

My blood turns hot as memories flood through me.Fight! Fight! Fight!I can still hear the chanting. Feel the energy. Fuck, it feels like a lifetime ago. Sleepless nights. Running on caffeine, hate, and adrenaline. I would’ve brawled with anyone—and did—just to feel something. Fighting and fucking. Fucking and fighting. It was all I had. All I wanted. I might not’ve always been the best, but I never quit, and I sure as shit knew how to give as good as I got. Anything for a distraction. Anything to stay away from home and my spiraling mom.

“When is it?” I ask.

“Not for a couple months.”

“Months?”

“We’re trying to lay low,” he mutters, but I don’t miss the glint in his dark eyes.

Lay low, my ass.

Nah, they’re waiting for Judge to grow bored and leave them to their own devices again. So am I. The sooner I can get back on the road, back on stage and away from the ghosts in this town, the better. Although, it’d be easier if they weren’t up to so much shady shit.

“When you say lay low, you mean other than the poker nights, drag races, and, did I hear you’re into sports gambling, too?” I quip.

“Thought you said you haven’t heard anything,” Roman counters.

I throw my head back and laugh. “All right, you caught me.”

“Figured.” His low chuckle joins mine. “So, are you interested? I can get you a good match.”

He looks so much like Rafe, they could be twins. Same build. Same eyes. It’s like I’m staring at Rafe’s ghost, and it messes with my head.

Sobering, I turn away from him and answer, “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, man. Sure thing.”

I glance at the blazing fire a little further up the beach, ready for another drink when I see her.

Well, I’ll be damned.

My gaze narrows as I observe the silhouette of a girl I’ve only met once. A girl I shouldn’t even remember, considering my line of work. But I guess I’m a sucker for a familiar face. She’s talking to someone. Someone I’ve never seen before. A guy with a cowboy hat and brown boots.

“I’m gonna grab another beer. Do you want anything?” I ask Roman.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“We’ll catch up later,” I promise, jogging toward the girl who looks like she’s about to puke.

What are the odds?

14

PAXTON

My heart races as I jog toward one of the few people I convinced myself I’d never see again. I’d tell myself I’m hallucinating, that I had too much to drink, but there’s no way one beer would make me see a ghost. Not like this. And not this ghost, either. If I was smart, I’d get the hell out of here, but I can’t help myself.

When I get near, I overhear her say, “Uh-huh. Yup. It’s really nice weather this time of year. I should probably get going.”

“Come on. The night’s still young, you know?” the guy argues.

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