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24
Kit
Catching Up
It’s so good to be home; the smells, the pictures hanging on the wall, the crappy orange carpet straight out of the seventies. The people. I’ve missed the people most of all.
As soon as we walk through the front door, I stop at the sight of Jack standing at the bottom of the stairs with his ‘I’m too cool for this’ look, though I know damn well he’s excited that we’re home. His act lasts all of three seconds before he pushes off the stair post and takes me in a warm hug.
I can’t help the smile that stretches my face. Sometime in the last couple years, he grew bigger than me. And not just a little bit bigger, but several inches. He’s not my little brother anymore, and I know he’s not done yet. The boy who was once a boy now holds me tight and makes me feel like the younger sibling.
“Welcome home,” he whispers gruffly. “I missed you guys.”
When he drops a sweet kiss on the top of my head, I have to swallow my tears and not let him see how his actions lift me up. Our relationship has been stilted at best. Things are changing now, but even a year ago, no way would he hug me like this.
No way would he admit he missed me.
Hell, I wouldn’t have even left in the first place, because I wouldn’t have trusted him to be good while I was gone. Everything has changed for us, and it’s only since meeting the Kincaids.
“Hey Jack.” I step back with a wobbly smile. “And just so we’re clear, that parcel’s not for you.”
Tink steps forward and peeks at the large package still sitting on the floor by the front door. “What’s in it? We’re dying to know.” She points at Jon. “You have no clue how many times I had to slap his hands away.”
I laugh. “You’ll never guess.”
* * *
Within hours of being home, we’re all back to normal; bitching and cussing at each other, fighting over the last slice of pizza, and forgetting that we’d missed each other only a short time ago.
“Fuck off!” Jim snaps at Jack. “Hernandez isn’t gonna fight again. He lost it. A winner’s a winner in his head first, and Hernandez lost that. No way is he going back into the octagon.”
“Bullshit!” Jack tosses a beer cap across the table. “I’ll bet you anything he’s back by the end of the year.”
“You gonna bet the Rav?” Jim laughs. “Because other than that, you haven’t got shit to bet… Plus, you’re wrong. He isn’t coming back.”
“Bullsh–”
With a roll of his eyes, Bobby sits forward and flicks the bottle cap at Jack to shut up. “How’s prep, Jim? What did you do this month?”
“Good. On track. When are you back?”
He looks to me. “When do you go back to work, babe?”
“I don’t know exactly, I didn’t give work a date. I might take the week off, then start back on the…” I check the date on my fancy new Swiss watch. “Tenth?”
“Do you mind if I put a few hours in with Jim? I won’t go back officially until you do, but I want to see his progress.”
“That’s cool,” I reassure him. “I’ll come in sometimes, too. I want to say hi.”
“Okay, awesome.” He lays a fast kiss on my lips and turns back to Jim. “I’ll come in tomorrow. We’ve only got ten weeks left.”
“We’ve been working on his ground game,” Aiden adds. “His stand-up is good, his locks are sloppy.”
“Fuck you, bitc–”
Jon picks up the cap and flicks it at Jim. “Have you heard from the committee yet, B?”
“No.” He laughs at Jim’s wounded ego. “But I’m expecting them to call any day. They knew we were arriving back in the country today, and the announcement has to be coming. They want the rematch before people lose interest, so I reckon they’ll call this week.”
