Chapter 1 #2
Worthington Sports is struggling and Dana is under pressure to turn it around fast. The last thing she needs is me making her life harder.
“How many students?” I ask.
“Eight, maybe ten. Twenty at the most. Mostly novices.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“It’s good money, Koda.” She leans forward. “And we need it if we want to keep the gym running. I wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else.”
I drain the rest of my coffee then set the mug down with a thud.
“Fine.” The word comes out rough. “But I’m not babysitting anyone. They show up. They work. Or they leave.”
Relief floods her face. “Thank you.”
She reaches down and pulls an envelope from her bag, then sets it on the table between us.
“What the hell is that?”
“Your contract for the class.” She slides it toward me. “Standard instructor agreement.”
“I’m not signing any fucking papers.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “I already signed them for you. This is just your copy.”
Of course she did.
My sister has been making executive decisions about my life since she could talk.
Some things never change.
I leave the envelope on the table without touching it. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘effective.’” Dana stands and picks up her mug. “First class is tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“When am I ever late?”
“Never.” She carries both mugs to the sink and rinses them out. “That’s why I love you.”
I follow her to the door. She pulls it open and steps out onto the porch. The cold air rushes in fast. Dana turns to face me, and before I can step back, she leans in and kisses me on the cheek. Then she wraps her arms around me in a quick hug.
“Love you, big brother.”
I grunt in response.
She laughs as she pulls away. “I’ll take that as ‘I love you too.’”
I watch her walk carefully down the steps and back across the yard to her car. When she reaches it, she turns and gives me a small wave. Then she gets in, starts the engine, and I watch until her car disappears around the bend in the road, swallowed by the trees.
Alone again, I go back inside and close the door. The envelope sits on the kitchen table like an accusation. I walk over and stare at it, feeling something like resignation settle in my chest.
Five years ago, I never would’ve pictured myself here. Teaching boxing instead of competing. Living alone in a cabin in the mountains.
Back then, I was still chasing rankings. Still believing I had another title shot in me.
Then came the torn rotator cuff during a routine sparring session. Eighteen years of training. Twelve as a pro. Gone in one bad move. The doctors fixed it as best they could. But it’ll never be the same.
I touch my shoulder unconsciously, feeling the familiar knot of scar tissue beneath my shirt. Not that it matters anymore.
Physical pain I can handle. It’s the other kind that nearly killed me.
I leave the envelope where it is and walk to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. As I twist off the cap, my phone buzzes from the counter where I left it charging. I check the screen, and my best friend Jason Palmer’s name flashes up at me.
“Palmer,” I answer.
“Koda! How the hell are you, you antisocial bastard?”
Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth lift. Jason’s one of the few people who can call me out on my hermit tendencies.
“Still breathing,” I say. “What’s up?”
“I’m in town for some business meetings. Thought I’d give you a call, see if you wanted to grab a drink tonight.”
I take a pull from my water and walk back to the window. “You’re in Cooper Heights?”
Jason runs a successful construction company back in our hometown of Cheyenne. It keeps him busy most days, and Cooper Heights is a three-hour drive from there. Not exactly a casual trip.
“Yeah, drove up this morning,” he says. I can hear traffic in the background. “Figured I’d stick around for the night and see Charlotte while I’m here.”
I frown. “Charlotte? As in, your daughter Charlotte?”
“Yeah. She lives in Cooper Heights now. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No. You didn’t tell me.”
“Shit, sorry. Things have been crazy lately.” He sounds distracted. “Charlotte got accepted to the Fit Mountain Beauty School. Wants to be a hairdresser like her mom was.”
“That’s great,” I say, and I mean it. “Really great.”
“Yeah.” His voice softens, and I can picture the look on his face. “I think Elaine would’ve been proud.”
Neither of us says anything for a moment.
What is there to say? Elaine’s been gone for eight years. But for Jason, I know it feels like yesterday.
“Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat. “Charlotte’s working as a waitress at some bar downtown. I thought we could swing by and surprise her. She’d love to see her Uncle Koda.”
Uncle Koda. The title sits uncomfortably on my shoulders.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, staring out at the trees as they sway in the wind. “What time?”
“Eight work for you? I’ve got meetings until seven.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you the address. See you then.”
He hangs up, and I’m left staring at my phone.
Christ, I feel old.
It seems like yesterday that Jason and I were eighteen, sweating our asses off at the Cheyenne lumber mill, working double shifts just to make rent.
I can still remember the exact moment he told me Elaine was pregnant.
We were sitting in his beat-up Chevy after our shift, sharing a beer, and he had this look on his face I’d never seen before.
He and Elaine had only been dating for eight months. But anyone with eyes could see they were crazy about each other.
I remember thinking they were too young. That a baby would ruin everything.
Shows what I knew.
Jason stepped up and married Elaine three weeks later in a courthouse ceremony where I stood as his best man. A few months after that, they had Charlotte.
And somehow, against all odds, they made it work. Those two built something real together. The kind of love most people spend their whole lives chasing.
Until eight years ago, when a semi-truck driver fell asleep at the wheel and crossed the median on I-25. Elaine died on impact.
I flew back from a fight in Vegas for the funeral and watched my best friend fall apart. I haven’t seen Charlotte since then.
My career kept me traveling. And by the time I retired and moved to Cooper Heights, Charlotte was in high school. Jason would sometimes show me pictures when we talked on the phone. But pictures aren’t the same as watching someone grow up.
I finish my water in one long pull and set the empty bottle on the counter.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll be teaching a bunch of kids who think they want to be boxers. Kids who have no idea what they’re signing up for.
And tonight, I’ll see Charlotte Palmer for the first time in eight years.
I walk back to the window and stare out at the mountains. Up here, everything is simple. Quiet. Predictable.
By the time I get ready to leave, I’ve almost convinced myself that seeing Charlotte again isn’t a big deal. She’s just Jason’s kid. My best friend’s daughter. Nothing complicated about that.
So why does it feel like I’m walking into something I’m not prepared for?