Page 92 of Nothing To Lose
I swat at him, embarrassed and laughing, and he tickles me until I squeak.
"I hope you know I’m going to expect you to clean this up with your mouth.” Then he straightens, smirking, and says, “Hey, can I get your number?”
I roll my eyes but grin, handing him a napkin. “I should’ve done this the first time.”
He takes the napkin from my hand but doesn’t let go of my fingers.
“Yeah,” he says, soft. “Me too.”
* * *
We walkthrough the gym together. There are patches of exposed drywall, unfinished flooring, tools and materials stacked along one wall. There’s still so much left to finish.
Isaac rubs the back of his neck. “One thing at a time," he says quietly, like a mantra. "I’m focusing on the plumbing issue first. If I can get that knocked out, I’ll move on to permits and ordinances. Maybe see if I can appeal some of the changes now that the Valdin circus is out of the picture.”
I nod, thoughtful. “Have you heard about the spring fair on Easter weekend? It’s local—tons of vendors, rides, food trucks.”
His brow lifts. “Sounds fun.”
“I was thinking… What if we set up a booth? It gets a lot of foot traffic. You could do self-defense demos, pass out flyers. Get people excited about the gym.”
He looks at me, more curious than dismissive. "That's… Yeah. That would be fun, actually. Like introducing ourselves to the town. That's a really good idea," he says, kissing my temple.
“I have another idea that you're probably going to hate-but hear me out,” I continue. “What if we launched a crowd-funding campaign?"
"Crowd-funding?"
"It's a way to get investment capital without owing investors. You'd pre-sell memberships or packages for the gym. It's a pretty easy thing to set up online. I may have already played around with some ideas, if you want to look?"
"You already started?"
"I've been messing around with a few ideas, just spit-balling anything I can think of. I have a few flyer designs. Water bottles. Lanyards. Some branded stuff.”
“How do you do branded stuff? I don't have a brand or logo or anything yet."
I shrug, a little shy. “I made you a few ideas. It's okay if you hate them."
"When did you do all this?"
"I've been doing it all along, really. I was just waiting for the right time to show you."
"Because I'm a stubborn asshole that won't accept help?"
"You said it, not me. But also, can you say it again? I need to record it for your sister."
He laughs and tugs me into a hug. "Okay, show me. I want to see all of it."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I'm desperate here. Help me," he says, dramatically pouting his lip out.
I break away long enough to grab my laptop from my bag, opening it quickly and clicking into the folder I’ve been hiding like a secret. His eyes are glued to the screen as I walk him through the website mock-up, the flyer drafts, even the lanyard designs.
But it’s the logo that makes him still.
It’s nothing too flashy. Simple, clean lettering, sharp lines, a powerful figure in motion, but at the top of every file are the words:JAX Defense & MMA.
He stares at it for a long time. His throat works around something unspoken. When he finally looks at me, his eyes are damp.
