Fighting for Keeps

by Jennifer Snow

  “I don’t think so, but I like your optimism,” she said.

  He took her hands in his and bent lower to look at her. “Remember—what doesn’t kill us...”

  “Makes us stronger?”

  He shook his head. “No. Hurts like hell, until one day it hurts a little less.”

  Her pulse soared as his grip tightened around her hands and he placed a kiss on her forehead. How easy it would be to give in to this strong, handsome, kind man in front of her, whom she believed was sincere in his offer to help. But to what end?

  What kind of father figure would an MMA fighter make? She pulled her hands away and forced a wry laugh. “Well, right now, I need to figure out a way to get Melissa to come out of her bedroom. She locked herself in last night. Stupid interior locks on these B and B doors,” she mumbled in frustration.

  No amount of coaxing had worked. At one point she’d even resolved to the number-one what-not-to-do parenting rule and tried bribery. She’d been desperate. “Actually, I can probably help with that,” he said. “Got a screwdriver?”

  Twenty minutes later, the door off the hinges, Lindsay came face-to-face with an angry eight-year-old. Her momentary relief at the door being opened shattered instantly at the sight of her niece’s glare. “You can’t make me leave. This is my home.”

  Lindsay swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to be easy. Nathan had been right when he’d said Mel was more like her than she was her own mother. The stubborn independence she admired in the child was now probably going to be her greatest challenge. One she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “I think this will be the best thing...”

  “What do you know, Aunt Lindsay? Do you even know how to take care of us? If we wanted to leave, we could have gone with Grandma and Grandpa.” Melissa folded her arms across her chest and the glare remained.

  The words stung after the verbal battles she’d endured with her mother to make sure that hadn’t happened. “I thought you wanted to stay in Brookhollow?”

  “But I want to stay here.”

  Well, she wanted all of this to be some big nightmare, but rarely did reality meet her expectations.

  The girl had been through so much and Lindsay had known things would get harder before they had any chance of getting better.

  She knelt in front of Melissa. “I know this is hard—”

  “You don’t know anything. Your parents are still alive!” Melissa yelled, pushing her.

  Lindsay lost her balance at the same time Noah entered the room. His hands on her shoulders caught her from falling onto the hardwood floor. “Melissa, your aunt is—”

  Lindsay shook her head as she stood. “I got this,” she said to Noah. “I know you don’t understand this right now, Melissa, but I’m trying to do the best thing for all of us. So, grab your suitcase and please start packing up your things.”

  Instead, the girl ran past her out into the hall. “I hate you,” she yelled as she flew down the stairs.

  Lindsay’s chest ached, but at the same time it felt as though a weight of doubt had been lifted from her shoulders.

  If they’re not mad at you, you’re probably not doing the job right.

  “I hope you’re right, Rach,” she whispered.

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, feeling worse than if he’d gone three rounds in the cage with someone twice his size, Noah pulled his motorcycle into the lot of the medical clinic. His fever had yet to break, and his vision had started to blur. He’d never been nervous on the bike before but the short drive from the B and B to the clinic had been scary.

  When he’d run into Luke after leaving Dominic’s that morning, there had been no way he could have said no to helping them move the children’s things to Lindsay’s house.

  After their heated discussion in the gazebo the evening of the funeral, he’d wanted to give her some space and time to figure things out. While he battled with the desire to help her, he’d respected her wishes to not be a shoulder to cry on. But he still intended to show up in a heartbeat when needed. Even if she hadn’t been the one to ask.

  He opened the door to the clinic, relieved to see only one other patient waiting. Good, this wouldn’t take long. Going to the desk, he announced his arrival to Rebecca, one of the nurses.

  She glanced up at him over her thick, dark-rimmed green glasses. “Hi, Noah. You look awful.”

  Did they see any other kind around here?

  “Thanks. I feel even worse.” He scanned the hallway behind the desk and noticed all of the exam room doors closed. Maybe they were busier than he thought. “How long’s the wait?”

  “Just a few minutes,” Rebecca said, grabbing his chart from the file cabinet behind her.

  Sitting in the waiting room chair, an incredible itch made his right hand lunge toward his back. Another violent attack on his arm a second later had him removing his jacket. Freeing his arm, he noticed several red dots along the inside of his bicep. A rash from sweating while moving?

  His back twitched again near his shoulder and, moving his T-shirt aside, he noticed several spots there, as well. Lifting the edge of his shirt confirmed his stomach was also covered.

  He approached the desk quickly, his shirt still raised.

  Rebecca’s eyes widened.

  “What are these?” he asked in a panic.

  “The most incredible set of abs I’ve ever seen,” she said.

  “These.” He pointed to the row of spots along his stomach muscles and then turned to show her the ones on his shoulder.

  She smiled sympathetically. “I take it you’ve never had chicken pox before.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  LINDSAY KNOCKED ON Noah’s apartment door early the next morning before she could change her mind.

  Chicken pox. Poor guy. It could be really awful in adults. He must have pushed through it to help her. She just hoped his good deed hadn’t spread the illness to others. She would disinfect everything he’d touched as soon as she got home.

  “Hang on,” he called through the door, and she watched as the doorknob on her side wiggled violently, but didn’t turn.

  She frowned. “Is your door broken?”

  “Lindsay?” The surprise in his voice almost made her regret coming.

  “Yeah, I heard you were sick...”

  “Can you turn the knob on your side?” he asked.

  “Okay...” She turned the knob and the door opened.

  On the other side, Noah stood wearing only his jeans and...

  “What’s with the boxing gloves?” she asked in an attempt to avert her gaze and her thoughts from his magnificent bare torso. “You’re training? I thought you were sick.”

  He should be resting...and he should have more clothes on. A lot more clothes.

  “I am. The gloves are the only way I can stop myself from scratching these annoying things,” he said, gesturing to the blisters.

  She laughed. Clever.

  “Have you tried calamine lotion for the itch?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any?”

  “Probably not...”

  “It’s okay, I brought some with me,” she said, setting her purse on the counter, noticing how clean his apartment was. It was definitely cleaner than her house. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, but she’d expected...

  She didn’t know what to expect anymore. She handed the pink lotion to him. “It should help.”

  He took the bottle in his gloved hand. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  He struggled to get his gloves off, then gave up and tried to work the cap with the gloves still on, then shrugged. “I’ll put it on later.”

  She sighed as she reached for the bottle and opened it. She was a nurse, after all. “Where are they?”

&nb
sp; “Everywhere,” he mumbled.

  “I’ll do the ones I can see,” she said, turning him around.

  The sight of his muscular back and arms wasn’t really a reprieve from the front view. He was all muscle—six feet of beautifully packaged muscle.

  “I thought most fighters had tattoos,” she said, pouring the lotion onto her finger and dabbing at the spots. His skin felt hot to the touch and she wondered if he’d taken any of the antibiotics sitting on his counter yet.

  “I’m not opposed to them. I just haven’t found something I wanted to permanently scar my body with.”

  “I wouldn’t scar this body,” she said, dabbing the backs of his arms.

  He chuckled. “Thank you. That was a compliment, right?” He turned to face her.

  “Don’t get a big head over it. You have a mirror—you know you’re attractive.”

  Attractive was an understatement.

  “It’s better coming from you,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face as she dabbed at his chest, and stroking her cheek with the cool leather of the glove.

  “There you are. That’s as far as I go...” She stumbled as she took a step backward. Air, space, water: she needed all of that—right now. She set the bottle down on his counter. “Use that twice a day—it will help. And take the antibiotics.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure about those. I have to let coach see them first. I’m fighting in a few weeks and they do drug testing.”

  Right. His upcoming fight. He was still putting his life at risk.

  “So you’re just going to suffer through the chicken pox?”

  “Until I can be sure they won’t affect my ability to fight—yeah.”

  “Fine, tough guy. Suit yourself,” she said before heading for the door.

  “Hey, wait. Did you want to stick around...watch a movie? We could order some food.”

  “Not today.”

  “Not today...but not never?”

  He was relentless. About dating her. And about fighting.

  “Call me when you’re better,” she said, quickly shutting the door behind her.

  Once again she was faced with the wrong guy at the wrong time.

  She had to go home to the kids.

  * * *

  “I’M NOT LETTING you in,” Brandon yelled through the glass door of Extreme Athletics two days later.

  “Oh, come on, you’ve got to be kidding me. The spots are already out, I’m not contagious anymore.”

  That probably wasn’t the complete truth. The nurse at the clinic said he would be contagious until the spots closed over, which hadn’t happened yet. But with the fight scheduled in less than three weeks, he needed to train. A few days off, sitting on his sofa eating Doritos, had already made him feel soft around the middle.

  Brandon locked the dead bolt and stood with his arms folded. “I’ve never had them, and I don’t plan on getting them now.”

  “You’re serious?” Noah readjusted his gym bag on his shoulder as the strap started to irritate the spots on his upper arm. The calamine lotion Lindsay had left for him was definitely working...though it had been better when she had applied it.

  “Come on, Brandon. I need to train.” He felt guilty about possibly spreading the disease, but this close to his fight, he couldn’t afford time away from the gym.

  “Bring a note from the clinic and then I’ll let you in. You’re not infecting my gym.”

  “Fine,” Noah mumbled, walking away. Where was he supposed to train now? He couldn’t risk going to the community center gym and spreading chicken pox to whatever kids in town hadn’t already contracted them.

  Securing his bag to the back of the motorcycle, he climbed on and started the bike. Well, if his coach wouldn’t let him inside, he’d have to train the old-school way.

  Ten minutes later he parked near the lake’s edge across from the downtown core. In Brookhollow, that meant six professional buildings that stood higher than two stories.

  He grabbed his gear and headed to the trail. One full lap around the lake would be two miles. A few laps, he’d at least get his cardio in for the day. He could hit the heavy bag at home.

  The only thing he was really missing was the partners to grapple with, but he wasn’t worried about his ground game. He’d won four of his six professional fights with a submission hold on the mat.

  That was the thing Lindsay didn’t realize about MMA. It really was a sport of skill and technique. Did guys get knocked out? Sure. But more often the fights were won by submission.

  If only he could get her to come to one of his fights, she’d see for herself it wasn’t as bad as she thought. But he knew that would never happen.

  * * *

  IT WAS A full week before Lindsay heard from Noah, although she’d caught sight of him everywhere. He’d been running on the trail across from the mayor’s office, doing pull-ups on the playground equipment in the elementary school playground after the end of the day, playing football in the park with Ethan and the other firefighters. She couldn’t escape the sight of him.

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket as she signed off on a patient with a broken arm and turned to Rachel’s grandmother, in for her regular blood pressure and heart rate check.

  It was Noah. She should’ve known she couldn’t escape the guy permanently.

  She contemplated not answering. Letting it go to voice mail.

  Who was she kidding? She was too old, too tired and too busy to play games.

  “Um, Rebecca, I have to answer this. Can you put Mrs. Norris in an exam room, please?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Rebecca said, leading Ginger down the hallway.

  “Oh, but, Lindsay...” the kids’ great-grandmother interrupted. “I wanted to talk to you about maybe taking the kids for ice cream someday next week.”

  “Sure. Yes. Whenever you want, Ginger,” Lindsay said a little too eagerly.

  The older woman smiled and patted her arm as she passed. “I’ll call you next week, dear.”

  Alone at the reception desk, Lindsay answered the vibrating phone on the fifth ring. “Hello?” she said, making sure her tone sounded busy and important.

  “Hey, it’s Noah,” he said.

  “Noah, hi. I have another call coming in, can I put you on hold?”

  “Sure.”

  Lindsay hit the mute button and set the phone on the reception desk. Getting up, she went to the staff lounge and filled the coffeemaker with water. Then waited for it to brew.

  She carried a cup back to the desk. She waited another minute then picked it up. “Noah, you still there?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded annoyed. “Important call?”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to run...talk to you later, okay?”

  Before she could hang up, he quickly asked, “Can I take you out tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  What had she just said? What was wrong with her?

  She could’ve banged her head with the phone.

  The truth was she was desperate for an evening out. The kids and work had been her life for a month now and she needed a break, however brief.

  “Yes? Really?” He laughed. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  * * *

  AS LINDSAY REMOVED the last curler from her freshly highlighted hair, she fought to control her excitement. After work, she’d gone to Lily’s shop to buy the yellow halter dress she’d picked out the week before.

  “Are you sure?” Lily had asked. “I mean for months you’ve been turning him down, when there was just his career choice standing in the way. Now there’s so much more to consider.”

  “I know. He’s definitely Mr. Wrong. But it’s just a night out, Lily. I need a night out.”

  And she had Victoria lined up to ba
bysit—she wasn’t going to lose this opportunity.

  In truth, the kids were precisely the reason she’d said yes to Noah.

  She had to get better at this parenting thing. Had to stop acting like the carefree, single woman she’d once been.

  But for now, she needed a break.

  Lindsay sighed as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t seem to conceal the dark shadows that had first appeared under her eyes a month ago. And despite the new highlights in her hair, her recent strands of gray poked through.

  At the sound of the doorbell she frowned and checked her watch. It was only ten after six.

  Picking up her cell phone, she texted Go away, I’m still contemplating canceling on you.

  The doorbell rang again.

  Then she got a text: I’m not there yet and there’s no way you’re getting out of this.

  Must be Victoria at the door, she thought, putting her mascara aside. She made her way down the hall, wrapping her thin, silk bathrobe around her.

  Her friend was reaching for the buzzer again as she opened the door.

  Immediately, Lindsay knew something was wrong. The other woman’s face was white and her eyes were wide. “Come in,” she said, moving back.

  “I’m in labor,” Victoria said, her pitch about an octave higher than normal.

  Of course she was. Impeccable timing as usual, she thought wryly.

  “How far apart are the contractions?”

  How much time they had was by far the most important thing to figure out. She could deliver the baby in her house if necessary, but she sure didn’t want to.

  “About four minutes,” Victoria said, pacing frantically. “Ow, here comes another one.” She bent at the waist and closed her eyes.

  “Bending only makes it worse,” Lindsay said, supporting the panting woman.

  As a nurse, she saw it all on a daily basis, but she was the first one to opt out of the delivery room whenever possible. Births terrified her. Beautiful when they were over, absolutely devastating to watch.

  “Did I hear Aunt Vic—” Melissa paused halfway into the living room. “Uh-oh, I know that look. Tell me when the gross stuff is over!” She turned and headed out.