Page 112 of Sterling Fight

“Where is she?” I’ve hopped the ropes, sweat blurring my vision. My chest feels constricted. I can’t breathe. “Where did she go?”

“Take it easy,” Sebastian says, his hand on my rising chest. “She only stepped outside for a breather.”

I brush past my brother and race toward the pub, still wearing my shorts and gloves. Still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” the bartender calls out as I rush into the outer bar, knowing all competitors need to be changed and presentable before entering this portion of Mack’s.

I ignore him as I run toward the front door and out to the sidewalk, looking left then right before jogging to the parking lot.

There, among the darkness and parked cars, I find Genie pacing back and forth.

“Firefly,” I call out and she stills. I close the distance between us, grateful that she leaps for me.

I’ll catch her every time.

With her arms around my neck, I lift her off her feet and squeeze her to my sweaty chest. “Don’t leave me.”

One of my greatest fears seeps between us.

“Judd.” Her hand comes to the side of my head. “Baby.”

She squirms in my arms until I set her on her feet. Then, she’s pressing back from me when I only want to hold her tighter. Reluctantly, I give her the space she seems to need.

Her cool hands cup my cheeks, and I risk looking her in the eyes. Those dark orbs with flecks of gold, pinpricks of light dancing in the blackness.

My firefly.

“You are so beautiful.”

Her words bring me up short. “What?” I pull back a little more, uncertain I’ve heard her correctly.

Her hands skim down my sweat-coated arms and her gaze follows the trail she burns into my flesh. “All long limbs and powerhouse strength. Your body is incredible. And you have skill. Real talent.” Her voice is full of awe.

“Then why did you leave?”

Genie is shaking her head, her gaze dropping. “I still can’t watch, Judd.” She looks up at me, sad while proud. “I cannot witness someone hitting you like that.”

Her hands return to my face. “After all you’ve been through. For me.” She swallows thickly, remembering what I told her about our prom night. All those years ago and yet a memory so fresh in my head most days, until recently. Until her.

“Firefly, I⁠—”

She covers my lips with her fingers. “You’re amazing, Judd. Truly gifted. But that”—she nods toward the bar—“is too much for me.”

She pauses again, her gaze darting all over my face. Sweat trickles down my temples and along my nose, but I don’t dare break our stare. I’m afraid if I look away, she’ll disappear.

“I’m here to support you, Judd. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader, as long as I don’t have to watch you take a beating.”

“I won.” My voice is rough, scratchy and raw. I was not beat.

She shakes her head. “But you don’t need a boxing match to prove to me you’re a winner. You’ve won my heart, Judd. And I’ll be by your side for whatever you need. Just . . . Please, don’t ask me to sit ringside and watch that again.”

I lift my hand for her cheek and then remember my boxing glove. I want to hold her hand, link our fingers. Together, we’ll weather the storms. But I also want sunny days with her.

With my wrist at my mouth, I tug at the glove closure with my teeth. Then, I hold out my hand. “Tug,” I gently demand.

Genie gives the bulky protection a yank, and then giggles when it hardly budges.

“I’ve got it.”