Turning his head toward his shoulder, Cannon cracked his neck. So much strain had crawled in that his muscles were knotting.
Before coming to the rec center, they’d stopped by Rowdy’s for lunch. Luckily, it was a lighter crowd and the women were mostly moms with their kids, or women with their boyfriends. Yvette had relaxed, chatting with Rowdy and Avery, praising them on the bar, answering questions about her life in California.
He wanted to get her alone, but for now, with her hands-off policy, being out and about was safer.
“This place was great when I saw it last, but now it’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” He, too, looked around, trying to see it as she would. Most of the fighters came in the morning and early evening, which left the afternoon free for the neighborhood kids and the after-school crowd. “Armie’s made a lot of improvements.”
She lightly elbowed him. “Don’t be modest. He said most of the equipment came from endorsements you got.”
True enough, but not the point. “He puts the stuff to good use.”
They headed for the break room together. On the way they passed Armie, who greeted a high school boy who’d just come in, dressed for a workout. “What’s he doing now?”
“He works with some of the wrestlers to help them with their techniques and to show them how wrestling can be put to good use in the SBC.”
“Is it the same as grappling?”
“In some ways. Taking a shot, sprawling to avoid one. Doing a switch or running a half, switching to a double leg. A crotch lift, or a suplex...” When she gave him a blank look, he smiled. “Sorry.”
“It’s interesting—when I understand.”
“Wrestling is a great tool to bring to MMA. But the point of wrestling is to get your opponent on his back. A lot of wrestlers naturally panic when that happens. But for real competition in the SBC, being on your back is just another offensive position. There are a lot of submissions that can be done from your back.” Being casual, Cannon smoothed her hair, then tucked it back behind her ear. He felt the stillness that settled over her, but pretended not to. “Armie works with the guys to show them how to transition wrestling moves into MMA skills.”
She cleared her throat, took a breath and focused again on Armie. “How many hours a day does he spend here?”
“More than he should.” As they stepped into the break room, Cannon put a hand to the small of her back and even that, the touch of his palm to her, through clothes, he felt everywhere. “He likes the kids a lot.”
“Funny.” She took a seat. “He said the same about you.”
“Yeah.” If he could, Cannon knew he would save every single child in the neighborhood. Save them from poverty, from neglect, from abuse.
From the bullies who gravitated to gangs and the bastards who peddled drugs.
He wasn’t a superhero, so instead, he did what he could. Luckily, guys like Armie carried more than a full load of responsibility. Denver, Stack, Miles, Gage...they all lent a hand.
Cannon got them both a Coke. “You were pretty good with the boys.”
“I love kids.” She took a sip, turned the can, traced a finger through the condensation. “When I was in school, I used to think about being a teacher.”
“Yeah?” He settled back in his seat, content to watch her.
“After everything that happened, though...”
He didn’t press her, didn’t try to fill the silence. The drone of voices, of strikes against the heavy bag and music from a CD, drifted in around them.
Her gaze shied away from his. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed just looking at her.
Quietly, she explained, “What happened changed my plans a lot.”
True. But she was here now. With any luck, she’d stay. “The important thing is that you don’t let it change you.”
She gave a mirthless laugh that she quickly stifled.
Again, Cannon just waited.
“What will your routine be while you’re here?”
Avoidance? He’d let her get away with that—for now.
He shrugged. His routine would accommodate hers, but she probably didn’t want to hear that. “I was thinking I’d visit tonight with the guys.” Visiting being their excuse to scope out the neighborhood, to make sure everything remained right and tight in their own little corner of the world.
“I thought you said you usually jog really early in the morning.”
“Twice a day, every day. It’s part of what I do to stay in shape. But I won’t be that late.” And in case she thought to dodge him again, he added, “And I’m always an early riser, no matter how late I stay up.”
Denver walked in, saw them and stalled. “Hey. Sorry.” He started to backpedal.
“It’s fine,” Cannon told him. “We won’t be much longer.”
Still, Denver crept around as if he was afraid of waking the dead. Carrying a white towel, he wore snug shorts and nothing else. Sweat dampened his chest and his long hair. The activity had left his face flushed. He inched quietly toward the water machine.
Cannon met Yvette’s gaze, and they both grinned.
He and Denver shared a similar height, but Denver had twenty pounds on him, making him a heavyweight instead of a light heavyweight. “I was just telling Yvette that we’ll get together tonight.”
Relaxing a little now that he’d been included, Denver nodded. “Sounds good to me. Say nine or so? Meet out front of Rowdy’s?”
Before coming to the rec center, they’d stopped by Rowdy’s for lunch. Luckily, it was a lighter crowd and the women were mostly moms with their kids, or women with their boyfriends. Yvette had relaxed, chatting with Rowdy and Avery, praising them on the bar, answering questions about her life in California.
He wanted to get her alone, but for now, with her hands-off policy, being out and about was safer.
“This place was great when I saw it last, but now it’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” He, too, looked around, trying to see it as she would. Most of the fighters came in the morning and early evening, which left the afternoon free for the neighborhood kids and the after-school crowd. “Armie’s made a lot of improvements.”
She lightly elbowed him. “Don’t be modest. He said most of the equipment came from endorsements you got.”
True enough, but not the point. “He puts the stuff to good use.”
They headed for the break room together. On the way they passed Armie, who greeted a high school boy who’d just come in, dressed for a workout. “What’s he doing now?”
“He works with some of the wrestlers to help them with their techniques and to show them how wrestling can be put to good use in the SBC.”
“Is it the same as grappling?”
“In some ways. Taking a shot, sprawling to avoid one. Doing a switch or running a half, switching to a double leg. A crotch lift, or a suplex...” When she gave him a blank look, he smiled. “Sorry.”
“It’s interesting—when I understand.”
“Wrestling is a great tool to bring to MMA. But the point of wrestling is to get your opponent on his back. A lot of wrestlers naturally panic when that happens. But for real competition in the SBC, being on your back is just another offensive position. There are a lot of submissions that can be done from your back.” Being casual, Cannon smoothed her hair, then tucked it back behind her ear. He felt the stillness that settled over her, but pretended not to. “Armie works with the guys to show them how to transition wrestling moves into MMA skills.”
She cleared her throat, took a breath and focused again on Armie. “How many hours a day does he spend here?”
“More than he should.” As they stepped into the break room, Cannon put a hand to the small of her back and even that, the touch of his palm to her, through clothes, he felt everywhere. “He likes the kids a lot.”
“Funny.” She took a seat. “He said the same about you.”
“Yeah.” If he could, Cannon knew he would save every single child in the neighborhood. Save them from poverty, from neglect, from abuse.
From the bullies who gravitated to gangs and the bastards who peddled drugs.
He wasn’t a superhero, so instead, he did what he could. Luckily, guys like Armie carried more than a full load of responsibility. Denver, Stack, Miles, Gage...they all lent a hand.
Cannon got them both a Coke. “You were pretty good with the boys.”
“I love kids.” She took a sip, turned the can, traced a finger through the condensation. “When I was in school, I used to think about being a teacher.”
“Yeah?” He settled back in his seat, content to watch her.
“After everything that happened, though...”
He didn’t press her, didn’t try to fill the silence. The drone of voices, of strikes against the heavy bag and music from a CD, drifted in around them.
Her gaze shied away from his. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed just looking at her.
Quietly, she explained, “What happened changed my plans a lot.”
True. But she was here now. With any luck, she’d stay. “The important thing is that you don’t let it change you.”
She gave a mirthless laugh that she quickly stifled.
Again, Cannon just waited.
“What will your routine be while you’re here?”
Avoidance? He’d let her get away with that—for now.
He shrugged. His routine would accommodate hers, but she probably didn’t want to hear that. “I was thinking I’d visit tonight with the guys.” Visiting being their excuse to scope out the neighborhood, to make sure everything remained right and tight in their own little corner of the world.
“I thought you said you usually jog really early in the morning.”
“Twice a day, every day. It’s part of what I do to stay in shape. But I won’t be that late.” And in case she thought to dodge him again, he added, “And I’m always an early riser, no matter how late I stay up.”
Denver walked in, saw them and stalled. “Hey. Sorry.” He started to backpedal.
“It’s fine,” Cannon told him. “We won’t be much longer.”
Still, Denver crept around as if he was afraid of waking the dead. Carrying a white towel, he wore snug shorts and nothing else. Sweat dampened his chest and his long hair. The activity had left his face flushed. He inched quietly toward the water machine.
Cannon met Yvette’s gaze, and they both grinned.
He and Denver shared a similar height, but Denver had twenty pounds on him, making him a heavyweight instead of a light heavyweight. “I was just telling Yvette that we’ll get together tonight.”
Relaxing a little now that he’d been included, Denver nodded. “Sounds good to me. Say nine or so? Meet out front of Rowdy’s?”
