Chapter Twenty-Two
Left uppercut. Right hook. Left hook to the body. Right uppercut. Left hook. Right hook to the body.
“Again.”
Kieran’s black gloves smacked against Neal’s red focus mitts. With each circuit, Kieran struck faster but never harder. This drill was about aim, speed and stamina. Neal kept up, though sweat already shone on his forehead.
“You’re slowing down on me, Coach.”
“You wish, Sullivan.”
Back in his prime, Neal was a monster of a heavyweight fighter. Built like a linebacker, he’d boxed his way into the pros with brutal, consecutive knockouts but retired early when Patricia got pregnant with their second kid. Neal always put family first.
But when Neal asked Kieran to fight in the Local Legends tournament, he hadn’t even hesitated in volunteering to be Kieran’s coach again. It was just like old times, though the gym had undergone many changes and Neal had a bit more of a gut now than when Kieran was a scrappy seventeen-year-old.
Neal backed out of swinging range and lifted his mitts in surrender. “Alright, enough for now.” He huffed and swiped his forearm over his upper lip. “I’ve got to get back into shape.”
Kieran unstrapped a glove with his teeth and tossed it to the ground. “You want your water?”
The man groaned out a “yes” as he settled down on a bench with a few knee pops.
Kieran grabbed their water bottles and sat beside Neal. “You know, I could always ask Carter to do drills with me.”
Neal shook his head and swallowed a mouthful of water. After several deep breaths, he clapped Kieran on the shoulder. “Tired of my coaching already, Sullivan?”
More like he didn’t want to wear him out. “Nah, I just like giving Carter a hard time.” Especially considering he still had eyes for Lily. Kid couldn’t take a hint, but he was a damn good lightweight fighter when his ego could be contained to his skull.
Neal swallowed another gulp and propped a forearm against his thigh. “So, what’s got you so on edge this week?”
Kieran reeled back. “I haven’t been on edge.”
The older man chuckled and swiped the sweat dangling from his left brow against his shirtsleeve.
“What do you call hovering around the lobby windows when you’re not sparring with the team?
Reorganizing the training room equipment into a system that makes no damn sense?
Tailing Lily when she’s on shift like you’re her personal bodyguard? ”
Fuck, had he really been that obvious? He was losing it. He had to be.
Kieran palmed the back of his neck. “I guess I’m still a little riled by what happened with her ex.
This gym is my second home. It’s a safe place, and the moment that jackass lured her out of it, it wasn’t anymore.
Lily—our staff deserves better.” He cleared his throat, hoping Neal didn’t catch what he’d almost said.
“I think we should look into getting turnstiles installed and a membership card scanner to slow down access to the lobby desk.”
Neal regarded him with hooded eyes before setting down his water bottle.
“We’ll have to look at the budget, but I think that’d be good for future security and tracking membership data.
You have good ideas, Sullivan.” He shifted on the bench until he faced Kieran.
“Barring your reluctance to hire a social media manager, you’ve been a major asset to this gym since you agreed to coach our team so I could focus on operations.
I don’t think I could have kept South Side MMA open this long without you. ”
Suspicion crawled up Kieran’s back, straightening it.
Why was Neal talking like that about the gym?
Like he wouldn’t be able to keep it open much longer.
“This place gave me purpose, Neal. You gave me purpose. Of course, I’d help you with whatever you need.
” Kieran ducked his head and leaned in closer.
Worry gnawed at his gut. “Is Patricia alright?”
The older man smiled and patted Kieran’s shoulder again.
“Patricia’s fine. I’m just getting old, son.
I’d like to save some of my energy for my grandkids, and I can’t do that if I’m keeping this place going.
” He snorted at the look of horror crossing Kieran’s face.
“Now, don’t you go getting your hackles up.
I’m not shutting us down. I’m going to need at least some income to keep spoiling my grandbabies. ”
“What does that mean for me?” A new owner? A new owner would want to change everything, and they were more likely to sell out if they ever got a look at all the shit Kieran had been fixing over the years.
“I want you to take over as owner, so long as I get a cut of the gym’s future earnings.”
All the sounds in the gym—the metallic clang of weights, the pound of treadmills, the grunts of lifters—faded. Kieran lifted his head. He searched Neal’s face for a hint of humor, but there was only understanding and…pride?
“It wouldn’t happen until after the tournament.
Gives me about a month to teach you how to run the books.
Go over administrative tasks you haven’t had to worry about.
Get your name set up on the accounts and on the paperwork.
” Neal leaned back, a smile on his shiny face.
“The dinner prior to the tournament isn’t just for schmoozing and getting the attendees to bet on you.
It’s also a chance for us to get some investors.
Money to revitalize this gym so it can continue to compete with other gyms in Chicagoland.
It could be a livelihood for you, Kieran.
” He knocked his fist against Kieran’s shoulder.
“You have the talent. This gym could be your legacy.”
Kieran blew out a slow breath. That…was a lot to take in.
Him? Owning South Side MMA? Would he even have time to run the self-defense classes or coach?
Maybe he wouldn’t have to, and he’d have more time to be there for Danny.
He loved his classes and coaching, but it wasn’t easy balancing Danny with tournaments.
He’d be in charge of South Side MMA, though.
Would Seb stick around, or would it be too weird? And Lily…
Kieran’s stomach dropped. He’d be Lily’s boss. That was a line he couldn’t cross. The power imbalance would be wrong. His heart thundered against his chest. But leaving Lily? That wasn’t an option. And neither was asking her to consider leaving the job she’d put so much work into.
And Neal—Neal wanted to leave his business to him, a dumb kid who’d barely scraped by in high school. “Why me? Why not give the gym to one of your daughters or save it for Trey?”
“My daughters want college for their kids, and I don’t blame them. You’re my only child who ever took an interest, Kieran.”
An emotion he couldn’t identify swelled in his chest, creating fissures that threatened to burst. He clenched his jaw with so much force it was likely to crack. Shame forced his gaze downward. If Neal knew even half the things he’d done… “I’m not—”
Neal tightened his grip on Kieran’s shoulder. “If you say you’re not my boy, just know Patricia will come down here herself and smack some sense into you.”
Heat flared in Kieran’s cheeks, and he nodded.
He couldn’t deny it, not when they’d taken him in after his parents kicked him out.
Patricia had kept him fed and clothed, all the while vowing she’d burn Brennan and Charlotte Sullivan alive if they ever came sniffing around her door.
She was a terrifying woman, but she was a loving one.
“You don’t have to answer right now.” Neal clambered to his feet and gave Kieran a hand up. “But I want you to think long and hard about what you want, and know that I believe in you.” He smiled as he picked up a strike pad for their next round of spinning back kick drills.
Kieran strapped his gloves back on, hope and dread sparring in his chest. Neal trusted him—believed in him. He didn’t deserve any of it.