Page 44 of Until We're More
“You’re smiling,” Brooklyn said. “Which means whatever you’re reading on your phone must have something to do with Chelsea.”
I lowered my phone, the gym snapping back into relief after the two whole minutes I’d managed to shut it out and catch up on messages. “You never stop, do you?”
My sister shook her head. “Not going to, either, until you admit you have feelings for her. More-than-friends feelings.”
“I’m proud of her.” Yep, ignoring the more-than-friends comment and plowing right over it. “Our assertive lessons are working, and she’s finally speaking up at her job.”
“Well, she did learn from the best.”
“And next time she needs meddling lessons, I’ll send her to you.” The over-the-top grin I flashed Brooklyn earned me a punch on the shoulder, but she also laughed. I twisted away from her so I’d have an ounce of privacy. Also because it’d drive her crazy.
Me:Knew you could do it. Soon you won’t need me anymore.
Chelsea:As if that could ever happen! Maybe we can celebrate tonight? No cooking, I promise.
Me:Sounds good.
“That’s five,” Finn said as he approached. He lifted his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face. “Are we going again, or are you too tired? FYI, once the tables turn andI’mthe one doing the coaching, we’re working on your cardio.”
I’d begged off a few minutes early in the cage, claiming I could use a breather, but really I’d wanted to find out how Chelsea’s meeting went. Not that I was going to admit that to either of my siblings—they were bad enough about trying to play matchmaker as it was. I slipped my phone back inside my gym bag. “What I’m hearing is, you’d like to spar and see how fast I can kick your ass. I’ll even give you five free seconds.”
Finn bounced around on the balls of his feet and shook out his arms. “Bring it.”
We walked through the bigger squared-off area to the raised cage in the corner. Most of the time it was drills, drills, and more drills. With him shedding pounds, I had a good thirty or so on him right now. Since he’d mostly been sparring with people in his own weight class, it’d been a while since he and I squared off. We used to rumble all the time as kids. Usually friendly matches, but occasionally one of us would land a harder-than-sparring-level punch, and all bets were off. Which was one of many reasons I was glad he fought middleweight while I stuck to light heavy.
We signaled for Shane to put five minutes on the clock, and by the time the red numbers lit the board, we had an audience. Team Domination was well known for being a family-owned and -run team, and the Roth name carried a lot of weight. Especially when combined with Dad’s record and the way Finn and I had been moving up the ranks. Sometimes that was a benefit, and sometimes it worked against us. Expectations and biases, simply because of who Dad had beaten or trained back in the day. Who’d left the team when we were struggling and racking up more losses than wins.
The legacy thing had gotten to my head before, and occasionally I let the need to prove people right or wrong fuel me, but I was far more driven by the guys who’d stayed through thick and thin, and I had no problem working my ass off getting them in fighting shape and landing them matches that would help their careers. This gym, this team, was more than our livelihood. Every single member became part of our family, and they looked up to us as coaches, and that also pushed both of us to be better.
So when the buzzer went off, neither one of us held back.
“Liam!” Dad strode over as soon as I stepped out of the locker room, my gaze on the door. I’d been at the gym since ten, and yeah, five thirty was a bit early for me to leave, but more often than not I put in twelve-hour days, and I’d gone harder than usual today.
Plus, Chelsea was home waiting for me, and I was eager to celebrate with her. Life could chew you up and spit you out, and I knew better than anyone how important it was to celebrate the wins. Otherwise, you risked forgetting what you were fighting for.
“Can whatever it is wait until tomorrow?” I asked. Dad thought everything was urgent, and for some reason, he loved to bring up expenses and problems with the budget right before I left for the day so I could go home and stew about them in my “off” time. Not that I thought he purposely did it, but that was almost always the result.
“Maru Tautolo’s a free agent.”
The familiar name rooted me in place. Dad, Finn, and I were constantly on the lookout for fighters. We brought in extra income with the classes, but the real money—and the trick to staying relevant—was building and keeping up Team Domination’s reputation. The more talented fighters we had, the more fighters would come here to train, and the easier it’d be to spread the wealth and keep the gym going.
We’d had a hard few years—not to mention an employee who’d embezzled a large sum of money from us—and before Shane had won his last fight, we’d been in serious financial trouble. We were far from out of the woods, and since two of our seasoned fighters had recently retired, I’d been stressing over how to fill that void. Maru, who went by the Tautolo Typhoon, was a big Samoan dude famous for obliterating fighters who stepped into his path. “You sure?”
“Just got the call. We need to go talk to him now, before the other vultures circle.”
At least Dad didn’t bother splitting hairs—we were part of the vultures. I liked to think we were more noble than most, but an ugly-ass bird who swooped down to take advantage was an ugly-ass bird. Still, we needed a heavyweight contender, and Maru was well on his way. With the right training, I had no doubt we could get him there. “He’s in L.A., yeah?”
“Yep, and I set up a meeting. We’ve gotta get going, though—traffic’s already a bitch.”
The temptation to ask if Finn could tag along instead bobbed up, but he and Shane were still working on striking drills, and he needed to focus on his fight, not worry about the gym and the team. That had always been more of my job, and I was better at keeping Dad in line anyway. “Yeah, okay. I’ll drive.”
One quick apologetic text to Chelsea and a three-hour drive later, we sat across from the Tautolo Typhoon.
“You’ve got an impressive record,” Dad said. The trick was stroking the ego while also hinting they could improve and guaranteeing we were the people for that job. “With the right training, you could be within title contention in a year. We have the connections to land you those fights, too.”
“I saw what you guys did with Shane Knox,” he said. “But I’m not sure I want to move down south.”
“Well, you would miss out on this awesome L.A. traffic,” I said, and he laughed.
