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“Nice hat,” he called out to Casey, who beamed back at him.
“Thanks!” Casey said, touching the hat self-consciously.
“He should get in. It’s important for the little guy to get exercise,” Meech said.
“Yes, but there’s a difference between getting exercise and getting pummelled by two behemoths,” I said, looking dubiously between Meech and Zane. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Meech said.
“He’s here to learn how to fight, isn’t he?” Zane said, shooting me a challenging look, but I would not be bullied into compliance.
“No,” I said firmly. “Nope, a thousand times no.” Why would they want to fight Casey, anyway?
Zane watched me for a few seconds, and then he smirked a little.
“He won’t get hurt,” Meech said. “Trust me. We’ll go real easy on him.”
“Meech, leave us alone,” Zane said, and Meech glanced at him.
“Alright.” But his eyes clearly showed that there was more conversation to be had between the two of them.“You want to come with me to get some water?” Meech asked me as his hand landed heavily on my shoulders and steered me toward the stairs.
“But…but…” I sputtered, but I had no choice but to go. I couldn’t resist Meech’s push as we walked back up the stairs.I didn’t feel very comfortable leaving Casey alone down there with Zane, but somehow, a small part of me knew he’d be fine.
“So,” Meech said conversationally. “That’s his kid, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I replied softly.
“And you never told him.”
I winced at the heat in his voice, feeling guilt overwhelm me again. “I…” I didn’t know how to explain it. “I didn’t…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Meech said, gesturing toward the door leading to the kitchen. “Listen, lady, lighten up. I didn’t ask for the whole story. I’m the last person to judge anyone.”
He walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and frowned. I noted a few bottles of water, some takeout, and not much else.
“Should probably go to the store soon,” Meech muttered to himself, but something else caught my attention. A picture of a boy on the kitchen island. He had sandy blonde hair and smiling brown eyes with a dirty baseball cap slapped on his head. Even though he was frowning in the picture, I could tell there was a lot of lightness inside him.
But there was also pain in his eyes.
“Who is—” I started asking, but then I heard my nephew scream.
12
ZANE
When fighting, it was important to only be aware of your opponent and yourself.
Be aware of nothing else but them—the way they move, breathe, think, every eye flutter, and every breath, which were things that separated you from victory. The more you knew, the more likely it was that it could help you land that final knockout.
And through all that, it was important not to get rattled.
Today, I was rattled.
It was why Meech was able to get a lucky shot at my midsection and almost got one to the jugular, something he hadn’t managed in all the thirteen years we’d known each other. Only one man had ever gotten close to knocking me out before, and it was back when I was still a green fighter.
It was so unprecedented to get this close now that even Meech took a step back and frowned at me. “Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?”
I rubbed my face and shook my head. Usually, Meech was someone I could tell everything to. The stubborn bastard was the closest thing to a friend I had, and he stuck around despite my general lack of manners and goodwill. Though I enjoyed solitude, it was occasionally nice to talk to the man. But I didn’t think I could talk to him about this.
