Page 94 of Sacrifice
“So can I call you Daddy?” The hope in her voice breaks me in two. This little girl can call me whatever she wants, although I’m nowhere good enough to have that title.
“If that makes you happy, monkey, I’d like that, I think.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and buries her head in my shoulder. “I love you,” she says, her little voice all muffled.
I rub her head with my hand, my eyes glued to the woman standing before me. “I love you, too.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
CREW
“Get off your back!” Sal shouts. “Damn it, Crew! Get off your fucking back.”
I try to burst through my sparring partner, using my legs to kick him off. I roll onto the top of my back and shove off, sending Victor tumbling to the other side of the ring.
“That’s it. You gotta stay off your back, damn it. If you let Davidson get you on the mat, you’re gonna have a helluva fight on your hands.”
I hear him, but I’m not listening. I’m more concerned at the fucking moment with the fire burning through my upper back. It’s hot. It’s intense. And it hurts like a bitch.
“Gentry. You listening to me?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to hide the pain from my voice. “Just taking a second.”
He releases a breath. “All right. Good workout tonight, boys. Tomorrow at six.”
“See ya tomorrow, Coach,” Victor says. “Later, Crew.”
I lift my hand a bit, barely off the mat, and feel the canvas dip as they both hop out of the ring. I open my eyes, sparkles dancing through my vision, flames dancing through my body.
Holy fuck.
The canvas dips again and Will bends beside me. “Hey. You all right?”
I groan. “Yeah.”
“You’re a liar, too. What happened?”
I struggle to sit up, the pain ripping through me as I move.
“What happened, man?” Will steps back as I stumble to my feet.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You rolled up on your shoulder—”
“No shit.”
I amble out of the ring and Will grabs my bag. We head into the parking lot, the warm air wrapping around my body, taking the chill of the pain out of it.
“Crew, man, if you’ve hurt your spine again . . .”
“Will,” I warn, turning to face him. “Shut the fuck up. What’s hurt and what’s not hurt is none of your business. I don’t want you saying a word about it. Got it?”
He tosses my bag in my truck and watches me climb in. “Okay. This is your call. I’m team . . . What are we called?”
I think a second. “Team Believe.” I turn the engine on. “Believe I don’t fucking kill myself.”
“Not funny, man.”
