Page 18 of Falling for the Forbidden Fighter
Even as he defends Louis, my dad jabs him on the chin.
Ricky moves like he’s enjoying this, slapping his gloves together and laughing, “He couldn’t block me ifmyhands were tied behind my back.”
My brother fires off his signature combo.
With three quick hisses of breath, Louis moves his head perfectly in time, making my brother stumble across the ring. Ricky nearly flies over the ropes.
“Don’t need to block slow punches.”
Ricky explodes, already getting in his face. “What the hell you say to me?”
I drop my head, throwing the band I’ve been toying with across the gym.
Here we go.
“Ricky! Back off!” Dad gets between them. “The kid is quick. You missed—get over it. We’re here to train him, not stoke your ego.”
Louis is in the red corner, hands still behind his back, smiling through his mouth guard. All week, my brother has been giving him shit. I guess they found Louis’s temper before his breaking point…
Ricky slams his gloves together. “I’ll wipe that smile off your fucking face.”
“Hey!” My dad shoves him. “You wanna keep running your mouth, tough guy? I’ll have Catty cut the tape off his wrists and let him shut you up.”
“He couldn’t touch me.”
My dad laughs, drops his head, and puts a hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “Son, he’s exhausted, sorer than he’s ever been, and so out of breath that he can barely speak… and he’d still lay you out.”
Dad has never babied us.
It’s his philosophy that when you need to hear something, somebody needs to step up and tell you, no matter how angry you get.
He’s right. My brother is getting old; even in his prime, he wouldn’t have stood a chance against Louis.
Ricky’s eyes go wide.
His gloves instinctively come up to his mohawk, trembling with rage.
Pride is a dangerous thing.
“Cut his tape!” Ricky yells at me, already moving to the blue corner. “Let’s go!”
I sigh, grab some scissors, and jump in the ring. “Sarah is gonna kill you when you show up with a mangled face.”
“Put some headgear on,” Dad says, popping his cigar in his mouth and sliding out of the ring.
“Don’t need it,” Ricky jeers. “He’s not gonna land a shot. I’m about to prove that you’ve wasted a week on this chump.”
“Fine. Get your brain rocked.”
I back Louis up against the ropes, fingers pressing into his soaked shirt. His chest heaves against my touch.
There’s a man behind me who wants to kill him, but Louis only looks at me. He smiles softly, almost as if he’s never been in a fight in his life—a flash of innocence you’d never attribute to a man like him.
“Turn around,” I say. “You know you don’t have to fight him.”
I cut the tape below his gloves, freeing his wrists.
Louis turns, takes a few deep breaths. Sweat trails down his face, shining in the warm light over the ring.
