Hold Trilogy Books One, Two, and Three

HOLD TRILOGY

By

Jayne Blue

––––––––

Text copyright ©2015

Jayne Blue All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

HOLD TRILOGY Book One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

HOLD TRILOGY Book Two

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

HOLD TRILOGY Book Three

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Books by Jayne Blue

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Ride Excerpt

HOLD TRILOGY Book One

Chapter One

Cassidy

Thirty-eight percent of kids who aged out of foster care wound up homeless. Cassidy Parker was one rent check away. She spent the day filling in applications and knocking on doors. The restaurant had closed last week and she needed to find work right away, or she’d be living the statistic she knew all too well.

There weren’t a lot of openings in Irish Town, a section of Grand City that was home to pubs and the West Michigan’s best cabbage soup, but not a lot of job openings. It was also home to the only housing Cassidy could afford, well, almost afford.

Irish Town was west of Uptown. Uptown had the fancy offices. She didn’t think she was fancy office material and didn’t really want to be. She just needed rent and tuition for her online classes.

Cassidy had just about given up when she walked past the fogged up windows of the Great Wolves Gym. She didn’t have any clue what the Great Wolves Gym was, but maybe they needed someone for something? At least it looked full. Half the storefronts she’d walked by were boarded up.

Cassidy put her hand on the metal door handle and tugged. It took her whole body weight to get the door open, and when she did a wave of heat, sweat, antiseptic, and man smell rolled over her. It was overpowering and took a second to adjust to. She scanned the huge space.

The walls were made of red brick and on the longest wall, across from her the letters GWG formed some sort of logo or symbol. She counted two boxing rings, one cage type thing in a back corner, a section of weights, and more bags than she could count all over the place. There were ropes, tires, more mats, and each area was meticulously organized into its own section.

Huge banners hung from the ceiling along the length of one wall. They pictured muscled men, arms crossed, staring at the camera, with a list of titles. Did they all work out here? It was pretty amazing, even though she didn’t know what any of the names or titles meant.

At the various stations, there were men, muscled, tatted, hairy, shaved, and in between, men. At least thirty of them were working out in short, tight, dark colored, underwear, it was underwear in her estimation. Cassidy’s face was red. She could feel her own sweat pooling a bit in between her breasts. Maybe this was a bad idea. There wasn’t another woman in sight, maybe she wasn’t allowed?

Two men fighting in the closest ring caught her attention. So much was happening. She had no frame of reference. Every activity was new to her, but the two that were fighting, or was it sparring, in front of her were head to toe muscle and sinew. They were punching, kicking, and moving around the ring closest to her. She found herself walking closer, to get a better look.

She heard a gruff voice and followed the direction of the sound to find an older man at the corner outside of the ring yelling.

Flynn, is that really the best you got? I told you stop leaving that left arm down. As he said it the other man landed a punch on this Flynn’s left side, near his ear. Cassidy looked at the odd shaped ear and knew this wasn’t the first time it had taken a punch. The man had his hair pulled back into a man bun to reveal they were both puffed up and misshapen.

The fighter that the old man called Flynn lowered his left shoulder a bit and his opponent charged. Cassidy’s heart dropped for this Flynn person as the other man grabbed him around the waist and took him to the mat with a thud. He landed on his shoulder. Cassidy figured that was that. It looked and sounded painful.

But it was like the mat was made of acid all of sudden and Flynn twisted and pulled his way up. After a flurry of limbs and grunts, Flynn had turned things around. He now seemed to be in charge. The two fighters were inches from where Cassidy stood. The action enthralled her so much, she’d gotten closer than she’d meant to.

Flynn had his opponent’s head in his arms and was squeezing the man’s body with his hairy legs. He looked up from annihilating the guy and straight into Cassidy’s eyes. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and better lashes than any woman.

But that’s where anything womanly ended. His nose was strong, even his jaw was a weapon, cloaked in dark stubble that would hurt if it rubbed against her sensitive skin. And where did that thought come from she wondered? He was a beast, and he was inches from where she stood, his eyes felt like they were burning her face.

I’m going to squeeze the shit out of him just for you pretty. It was almost a sneer, the words that came out of his full lips. For her? What? Cassidy was definitely not supposed to be here. Why the hell wasn’t there a restaurant that needed a waitress? She took a step back, and Flynn winked a blue eye at her. Her own sweat was getting more intense thanks to the raw look Flynn gave her. She swallowed and licked her lips, they were all of a sudden the only dry thing on her.

Flynn’s eyes traveled to her lips and all the way down to her shoes, sizing her up like another opponent. He barely noticed that the old man was screaming, and the guy who’d punched him in the ear was tapping him.

I think you won.

When you walked in here I did, was his bold-as-hell reply.

Every alarm bell that Cassidy had went off. As a girl who’d taken care of herself for the last six years, her brain screamed turn around and walk out of this strange place. But Cassidy’s brain was not in control. Every other part of her said stand your ground. Sometimes in foster care, you survived on instinct. Her instincts said to hold his stare, stay. So she did.

Jesus, Craddock, he’s tapping out, you mook. The old man walked from the corner across the mat to Cassidy. The fighter broke eye contact, finally, and looked at the old man, then down at his opponent.

Oh, sorry, Whitey, I forgot he was here. Flynn let the man go, and he stood up, ready for another round.

Barton you’re done for the day, you too, Flynn. Neither one of you is listening for shit. Hit the showers and use that soap I got in there. We got a round of skin trouble from last week’s tournament. I don’t want you getting the dirt.

Good lord, Cassidy thought. What was the dirt?

Whitey, the old man, barked the orders, and the younger men listened.

That one’s too cocky by half. A little cocky you need, but Flynn? Just like his old man that way. Whitey said. Cassidy wondered if the comments were to himself or to her. The old man had a belly, and a pocked marked face topped off with a wisp of white hair.

The nose was bulbous and looked not unlike the ear she’d seen on Flynn, mottled and abused. He turned his sparkling eyes in her direction. She might get out of this place alive if Whitey allowed it.

What’s your business, girlie? If you’re signing up for a Zumba class head to the Y.

The flurry of sweat and swagger fogged her purpose, which until a moment ago was clear. I need a job. It came out higher and quieter than she’d meant it to, so she cleared her throat and said it again. I’m looking for a job and wondered if you had any openings. This time, she straightened to her full five-two and put out a hand. Her social worker had taught her quite a few useful things, and a handshake was one.

Whitey put out a hand and looked at her with more than a little skepticism. She was used to that, she knew she didn’t look like much.

Whitey shook her hand with one arm and slung a white towel over his shoulder. Whitey Hoolihan, used to be Hoolihan’s Gym, but well, the money’s here now, and we’re corporate. Only way to survive these days. We only have two sponsorships here and those are taken so I’m assuming you’re not a chick MMA fighter.

Right. I mean, no, I’m not a fighter.

Well you have a good grip for a ‘Lil bit, but you do look smaller than our bantam girl.

Uh, what?

Our little guys, eh forget it, can you answer phones?

Yes.

Can you file alphabetically?

Yes, numerically, too. Cassidy tried not to let the sarcasm into her voice and reminded herself she was desperate for a job.

How about the computer? Do you know how to use it?

Yes. She had no idea what programs he was talking about, but she suspected he didn’t either, so she just kept saying yes to things he asked.

Good, Great Wolf Gym corporate big wigs just finished buying this place, they also just sent me a computer and said we had to go paperless. What the hell is paperless?

I think it means all on the computer?

Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.

I can help, I took a bookkeeping class in high school. I can do Microsoft Office for sure, or whatever they have. I’m a fast learner.

You’re not still in high school are you? Your eyes look older than high school, but I can’t tell anymore, you look young to me. I can’t have any jailbait around these animals.

I’m almost 21, so I am legal.

And you’re not dressed like the normal cheap pieces that hang all over my guys, so I’ll say that’s in your favor one-hundred percent. I realize that’s some sort of violation of federal law that I noticed, but there it is.

I won’t tell if you won’t. A small kernel of hope blossomed that maybe there was a job here.

Whitey chuckled at her and broke into a smile. She noticed a tooth missing on the side.

You do learn fast. A little sass is good, that’s in your favor. When can you start?

Whenever you need me.

Okay, I need you to answer phones, wash towels, spray the mat down if I can’t get one of these shitheads, pardon my French, to do it. Also scheduling stuff, uh, what else, oh yeah, keep track of the dues, and, most of all, do this damn computer stuff. Does it look like I can type for shit, pardon my French. Whitey held up a gnarled hand whose five fingers pointed in the four directions of the compass. Clearly, arthritis or dislocation made the digits useless.

No, it does not look like you can type for sh... at all. Cassidy decided to stay with sass and not take it down a notch to crass. It was a job interview, such as it was.

Okay, you’re hired. You start tomorrow, we open at 5 a.m. for some of the guys, but you get here at 8, okay?

Thank you, Mr. Hoolihan. Cassidy had to restrain her desire to jump up and down with glee. A job! She’d been greeted with nothing but closed doors and sorry, miss everywhere she’d gone for two weeks and boom! A job! Plus, she didn’t have to bus tables, though she had no idea what spraying the mats entailed. Whatever. She was thrilled.

Just Whitey, what’s your name bantam?

Cassidy Parker.

Welcome to Great Wolves Gym, Cassidy Parker. They shook hands again.

Oh, um, I hate to ask, but what’s the pay?

Of course, you need to ask. I got a small budget from GWG for a receptionist Gal Friday, you’re it. It’s ten bones an hour, full time, options for the GWG health plan after a probationary period. They don’t include dental, as you can see. GWG would go under if they had to pay for missing teeth around here. Whitey pointed to his own gap tooth smile.

Sounds perfect. Thank you! Cassidy wanted to cry, she was so thrilled. This wasn’t her dream job, not by a long shot. Being a social worker was, but she had to get her online degree for that, and it would take years. That was the long game. The short game? Paying rent and tuition. And thanks to the GWG she’d be able to survive a while longer in her crappy apartment until she had that degree. So she had to wash a few sweaty towels? She’d been through worse in her years in foster care, way worse.

Whitey interrupted her mental celebration. Here’s the computer boxes, under the reception desk. Take a look before ya go, would ya? If the GWG corporate guy shows up, he’ll have my ass if I haven’t at least started. And your paperwork’s all, uh, paperless so you won’t get paid until this stuff gets juiced up or hooked up or I don’t know, just look, please? He indicated to all the computer boxes with extreme irritation.

No problem. Cassidy eyed the ancient metal desk covered in schedule books and the unopened computer boxes strewn all over the place. Probably where the delivery guy had left them. Knowing her payroll program was under there somewhere was pretty good motivation to get going. Payroll, thank God, pay.

Craddock

Who the hell was that? That’s what Craddock Flynn was going to find out. The gorgeous girl at ringside appeared through the hazy sweat of the gym and as he choked out Barton, her eyes cut through everything else. Normally he was into the legs, the tits, the ass, but he had no idea what that looked like on her. She was all covered up in that coat.

Her. What he did know was the little shorty at ringside had the sexiest eyes he’d ever seen. Were they honey with flecks of green, or green with flecks of honey? He needed a better look. Her hair, what color was that? Cinnamon? It hung in heavy waves past her shoulders. He’d like to run a hand through it. It looked as soft as she did.

He kept the shower cold to calm down. Everything was rock hard from his skull on down. A bit of blood sluiced down the drain. He had no concern from where, probably his damn cauliflower ear, but blood didn’t bother him. It was part of the job.

His sparring partner today, Todd Barton, was no match for him and barely provided a good training session, as evidenced by how quickly he was able to beat him. Whitey was so wrong about dropping his left. It was how he lured Barton and the rest of ‘em in. They saw it as an opening, and he saw it as a trap. Yep, take the bait, fish.

His real competition wasn’t candyass Barton, it was Ezekiel Powell. The damn kid called himself The Preacher’s Son, which technically he was. But Craddock knew Ezekiel Powell was already effing branding himself, setting himself up as a product for the fight watching public.

That could be very bad for Craddock Flynn, who’d been resisting The Fighting Irish, moniker a few marketing assholes wanted to slap on him. He knew he was a walking stereotype, a hot-tempered, hard-drinking Irishman. Nothing he could do about the temper but keep it in the ring, and the booze, well, he hadn’t thrown down and partied like he used to since his dad left. When he caught his dad cheating on his mom with whiskey on his breath and bottles on the floor of his parents’ room, he kind of lost the taste for it. And he hadn’t seen his dad since.

His focus was on fighting, not marketing. Powell’s punch was more dangerous than the marketing machine that swirled around them both. It was because they were up and comers, they hadn’t made it yet. But Craddock was almost there. He was a few steps away.

Zeke Powell was in Craddock Flynn’s way. Craddock wanted one thing. That one thing that could get him everything else — a contract with the 21C League. The 21st Century Fight League was the place he could make his name, earn serious cash, and win the championship belt. It was all he thought about since his mom had brought him to Whitey over a decade ago. He’d make bank with his fists.

Craddock knew Zeke Powell had plans, too, and that was the immediate challenge. Get ready for Zeke and make sure the 21C League picked him instead of Zeke for a pro-contract.

Both of the fighters were sponsored by GWG to train for one year, but only one would get the deal with 21C. Only one would turn blood into serious money. Craddock Flynn would make damn sure The Preacher’s Son went straight to hell.

Craddock toweled off and got dressed. He grabbed his hooded sweatshirt and pulled it over his t-shirt, mindful of Whitey’s warnings about going outside in the cold while he was still hot. As much as Whitey could be like his mom with the nagging, he was listening right now because he had three months left to prove he had the stuff to make it.

Being coachable was a thing the scouts looked for, and he had a reputation for having a temper and going his own way. He needed to show he could listen. Even if he thought Whitey was wrong, he needed to do what Whitey said. He needed to be more like the angel Zeke Powell. And he hated it.

As he walked out into the gym from the showers he knew she was still there, yes that pretty little thing was in the room for sure, the one good scent in the place. He shouldn’t pay attention to women right now, he should pay attention to training. Period. But that cold shower had zero half-life as his eyes found her.

He took a good, long look, this time without the distraction of having to murder Barton. Shit, she was something different. Dark cinnamon hair, he was right about that, and it wasn’t his usual. He normally went for blondes with a fake tan. Or did he? Generally, they jumped on him before he had to decide. Maybe he liked brunettes? Well, this one anyway. Her hair and peachy skin quickly become his new type.

It was hard to look anywhere but those eyes. She was tiny, really. He noticed the belt on her coat was cinched tight and knotted at her little waist. He could probably wrap his hands completely around it. His gaze kept going back up to her face, her full lips were bare, no makeup, he noticed. Time to find out the name of this little cinnamon spice girl.

Craddock walked the length of the gym with his eyes focused on the girl that had stolen his full attention. She was smiling, goddamn, she smiled this shy sort of way. And then — what the hell? A set of shoulders partially blocked his view, pissing him off.

There he was. The Preachers Son had zoned right in and was lifting something up for her, a box or some shit, then he started crawling around. What the hell was he doing? The saint of all the Bible was probably trying to look up her skirt.  Craddock quickened his pace that asshole better get clear of her.

You trying to get a free peek there, Powell? Craddock stepped in front of the brunette just in case Powell was copping a look.

What? Of course, I wouldn’t ever... The big man was under the desk struggling with something and sputtering an answer.

Excuse me, Zeke’s helping me find the outlet. And Craddock felt a hand on his arm. It was the brunette. The cells in his arms jumped where she touched him, and he turned to look at her. She moved her hand off him too fast, like she felt it too.

She moved her hand from his arm to her hip and fixed a tough glare at him. He wanted to kiss that look right off her face. Shit, this girl was under his skin fast.

Zeke is it? First names already? Well, what’s your name?

Cassidy.

Be careful Cassidy, he may wear a gold cross, but he’s no more trustworthy than any of the guys in here.

Except you, I’m guessing. She gave him attitude right away. He was used to fawning and eyelash batting, but not this one. No, she was not immediately susceptible to his muscles.

Most of all me. Craddock detected the slightest upturn on the corner of her lip, she wasn’t totally immune to his charms. Good.

Well are those muscle decorative or can you get that box and bring it over here so I can hook up this printer? And her sass turned to a bit of shyness as she added. I can’t reach it. She was so fucking cute.

Well aren’t you bossy? He stepped closer and moved across to where the printer box sat on a shelf behind her. On his way to the shelf, he came within an inch of her and breathed in deeply. She was perfectly still maybe even scared like moving would provoke him, so he got a good nose full of her scent. She smelled clean. Nothing smelled clean around here, and there was something else, something all her.

She didn’t move, but he saw her blush. It was less than two seconds of time, but he’d made his point, he’d started the primal process of letting Zeke, and the rest of them, know he was top ape. She let him do it too, whether she knew it or not, she let him stake a little claim right there. Score one for Flynn. He moved on and grabbed the box down with one hand.

Where do you want it, boss? He held it in his big palm in front of her like it was a pizza box.

Just there on the desk. At this point, Zeke was up and jockeying with him to get Cassidy’s attention. Forget it, Zeke, you’re not getting anywhere with her, he thought.

Why don’t you back off, Flynn, she’s not like the sluts who you usually hang with.

Fuck you very much, Zeke. Flynn took pleasure in shooting the insult to his rival in all things. Zeke didn’t take the bait and addressed pretty little Cassidy. Craddock felt his nostrils flair. He didn’t want Zeke talking to this girl and he logically knew he had no right to say it, but there it was in his head. She’s going to be mine, Zeke.

Sorry Cassidy, this is how he is. Let me know if you need anything else, okay? Zeke gave her a big holy smile. She smiled back, a small one, but it filled Craddock with a hot poker of rage behind his eyes.

Thank you. I’m all set, I think. It was nice to meet you, Zeke. Her voice was deeper than you’d expect, Craddock noticed.

Zeke walked out of the gym and left Craddock and Cassidy facing off at the desk. Craddock thought Zeke had made a poor strategic decision right there, never leave a girl you’re interested in alone with Craddock Flynn. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

Okay, well, why don’t you get going? No one’s looking up my skirt, and I’ve got work to do. Not quite yet, Cassidy. He was determined to get a little more time with her.

So you work here now permanently?

She nodded, and he was happy as hell. She’d be right here in his very gym for him to enjoy. This day was looking up. He moved in closer, and honestly, this time, it wasn’t on purpose, she had a pull, wow, what the heck was this about?

Cassidy backed up and nearly ran into the shelves behind her. None of his usual lines seemed quite right for this one. He didn’t really have a plan, except he was going to get closer to her. She looked him in the eyes and didn’t seem intimidated. He reached out without thinking, meaning to touch that gorgeous hair.

She smacked his hand down. Keep that hand to yourself if you don’t want to lose it, Craddock Flynn. The color in her eyes flashed a little lightning at him. Oh, those eyes. He almost wanted to make her mad some more to see them flair.

How about the other one? He lifted his other hand and touched her silky hair on the other side. Her eyes widened in surprise. His hands were quick. Cassidy wasn’t the first girl to learn that.

A hoarse, familiar voice interrupted his attempt to get as close as possible to Cassidy.

Oh, Miss Cassidy, you have full authority to kick him or any of these assholes in the nuts if they get fresh. Or let me do it if you’re too sensitive. In fact, you can look it up, nut busting is approved conduct in the Great Wolves Gym employee handbook.

Thank you, Whitey. I’ll finish this tomorrow if it’s okay?

Yep, see you tomorrow, girlie!

And with that little opening, Cassidy slipped out of Craddock’s orbit and out the door. She was gone, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long. He also painfully realized he probably needed another shower, or at least one of the slutty blondes, as Zeke called them, to work some things out.

Cassidy

Cassidy walked briskly to get to the Grand City Main Library before 7 p.m. If she got in before they closed the doors, she could use the computers for two hours. Then someone would notice she was there and shoo her out. She needed to sneak online to work on her classes.

Staying to work a little at the new job had put her behind on classwork today. If only she had her own computer, but that was way over her budget. She was scrounging for the last penny every month. Next year, well, next year she’d worry about next year. For now, she was half way through year two of school, and she was barely scraping by with rent and food and tuition. Forget about what most girls in college worried about, clothes maybe? She really wasn’t too clear on that. She was just trying to survive.

The Grand City Main Library was gorgeous. Cassidy loved the Art Deco building. She hadn’t always been an unwanted, shuttled around, foster kid. She’d had parents who had loved her and took her to museums, plays, and shows. But, that was a long time ago.

She blocked those thoughts out. It didn’t do any good thinking about how her life had been before, with her mom and dad. It also didn’t do any good thinking about the foster homes, all ten of them.

Cassidy Parker had one mission now, and that was to help kids like her. Or how she used to be. To do that she’d need her social work degree and a master’s degree. It was a long, expensive road, but she was planning to take it one step at a time. Or more specifically, she’d take it one expensive credit hour at a time.

As she logged on to the Wayne U online portal, she had a hard time focusing. That wasn’t really like her. A set of pecs, abs, and biceps invaded her headspace. She couldn’t get her experience at the GWG out of her head. The smell, the energy, and who was she kidding, the sight of Craddock Flynn.

She was never boy crazy and most of her time in foster homes was spent fending off brothers and the occasional asshole foster dad. She always fended them off, but that didn’t make her a prude — that made her tough. And it was the reason she’d had ten foster homes. Thank God for Bess always placing her.

Cassidy thought about her limited sexual experience. She wasn’t a virgin, she’d essentially decided to do it with a busboy at the restaurant so she wouldn’t have that hanging over her head, the virgin thing. But it wasn’t all that. Her lukewarm encounter with Jason the busboy was not what she’d hoped or dreamed it would be. The experience was okay, even sweet, but not quite like the romance novels that she’d bury her nose in from the library. Not much of what Jason the busboy did was that interesting. But it was done. She’d gotten over that stupid hurdle.

Maybe she should stop reading romances. After all, they’d primed her for today’s encounter with the epicenter of alpha males in Grand City. Every single one of them looked like they could have been on a cover. Well, maybe a little hairier.

No, she’d keep reading, her romances were free to borrow and a lot cheaper than cable. Since she didn’t have a television, Bella Andre it was.

Besides, Craddock Flynn was no busboy. In fact, there was nothing boyish at all in his strong legs, cut abs, and broad shoulders. And really, nothing like the polished billionaires of her books. He’d practically inhaled her in one piece when he’d gotten close. More like a Gorilla in the Mist than a billionaire on a private jet. The scary thing was she let him. She shocked herself. Why hadn’t she kicked him in the nuts like Whitey suggested?

She knew that answer. Because she liked it. She wanted him to put his arms around her. She imagined something wicked the moment he turned his eyes in her direction. Maybe even before then when she was drawn to the ring almost by an invisible rope.

Cassidy shook her head to shake herself from the daydream. Nope! That’s enough. She had work to do. Finally, the worry of being unemployed was over. She had a job to pay her rent, food, and bus pass. Now it was time to focus on school again.

She pushed the images of Craddock Flynn’s abs, his arms nearly encircling her, and, oh God, that thick dark hair, out of her mind. Back to work. No more thoughts of that sexy man bun or buns. This was not a productive line of thinking at all. She went back to her online psych class. Much safer territory.

It was dark by the time they kicked her out of the library, and she walked the mile it took to get home to her apartment.

She rented a studio with a tiny bathroom but thank God for that bathroom. The last place had a bathroom down the hall, which led to some fending off that wasn’t much different than foster care. Her tiny bathroom with small tub and shower was safe, private, and clean as a whistle. To her, it was heaven.

You’ll like this place better, Cassidy. That’s what her social worker Bess Geary told her. She’d helped her get into the Wayne U online program and the apartment. But much more than that, she’d given Cassidy the purpose she now lived for.

Bess Geary helped her navigate some scary waters. Bess had been assigned to Cassidy’s case shortly after her parents had died. And she was the one port in the storm after being orphaned at 14.

There were no cake or candles on her 18th birthday. She was essentially orphaned again, kicked out of foster care because she was an adult. Bess was her one salvation. The one person who asked her about her dreams and helped her take a path to make them come true.

As she unlocked her apartment and tried to warm up from her cold walk, her phone rang. She didn’t have a cell, but there was a landline that came with the place. Bess insisted she have at least one phone.

She picked it up knowing it was Bess. It was only ever Bess who called. Even hours after her shift at the agency ended, she checked in with Cassidy.

I’ve been waiting to hear! How did it go? Any luck on the job front? Because if not we need to get the paperwork started on...

Let me interrupt you, Bess, I got a job. She tried not to sound as excited about that fact as she felt.

Awesome! Tell me about it! Bess’s voice was comforting, and the only thing she had that resembled a family. Bess even bought her a birthday card every year.

It’s at the Great Wolf Gym. And she recounted the details of the meeting with Whitey.

So, your job is to be surrounded by buff athletes all day? Do they have any other openings? Bess could always make her smile.

Well, how do you feel about tattoos and sweat? She joked back.

I feel like you’re going to have to stay focused and let me decide which ones you should talk to. Bess was in her early thirties and divorced. She didn’t talk about her ex-husband or what happened. Cassidy just knew Bess had a little boy and that she had full custody. The fact that Bess had time for her while also being a single mom inspired Cassidy to someday pay it forward with her own clients. Someday.

Will do. And thank you for checking up on me.

Always. And I like the addition of red-blooded men in this discourse. I can, of course, get your birth control options handled through the...

Enough! I just work there! Cassidy started to blush at the thought.

Okay, okay, I know you’re smart about all this stuff. But, if that landlord doesn’t fix that heater, I need to have you call Fair Housing Authority at..

I already wrote that down, Bess was as thorough as a person could be, and Cassidy loved her for it, Now it’s time for you to play with your son. I’ll talk to you soon.

Yeah, I’m going to need to pick you up for lunch one of these days very soon from the new job, you know, to be sure I approve.

Of course. Talk to you soon.

Okay, good night, sweetie.

Cassidy carefully put her clothes away. The laundromat was expensive so she re-wore what she could. She slid into some sweats and climbed into the sagging bed in the corner of the studio. She had not, in fact, gotten the landlord to fix the heater. She just didn’t want to worry Bess anymore. She’d bundled up with socks and sweats and toss her coat over the covers to try to sleep in the icy space.

As she fell asleep, her dreams swirled around a fighter named Flynn. And at least parts of her were warm that night.

Chapter Two

Craddock

Craddock ran every other morning. Five miles pretty much as fast as he could. Whitey said if a fighter can stay conscious through the first two rounds, running nearly every day meant that fighter could eventually wear anyone down. Craddock aimed to wear his opponents down if he couldn’t beat them down. It also sluiced off every ounce of fat and made his muscles look deadly. His runs were non-existent when he used to party. Since he gave it up, they’d gotten maniacal. He poured everything into them, and that was before he even got to the gym.

After his run, he always stopped by his mom’s house. She usually had something for him to eat and he could help make sure Dylan got to the bus on time. His mom lived in a small house in the Irish Town neighborhood not too far from the gym. He didn’t live there anymore, but he still visited nearly every day. Just in case she needed anything.

His dad was barely a help before Craddock kicked him out. After he was gone, Craddock understood that taking care of the family was his job now. He had no idea where his dad was these days. Maybe they were better off without him. Dylan and Ma that was on his shoulders now, and he had a plan.

She burnt the toast, Crad. Dylan Flynn greeted him at the back screen door that lead to a little landing and then to the kitchen.

No big deal, she’ll make some more. This was just the kind of thing that stressed Dylan out, the kind of thing that could lead to a total meltdown. Dylan was almost 30 years old and had the mental capacity of an eight-year-old. His disabilities were attributed to some sort of birth trauma. Probably something their dad did. His mom would never say, so he figured there was a story he didn’t know. And probably didn’t want to know. Dylan was working up to full tilt outrage.

Because if you do it on medium, it should be my favorite way, she did it more than medium, and it’s too crunchy. It’s dark brown, almost black, Crad! Dylan was laying out his case for the perfect piece of toast like he was arguing to the fucking Supreme Court.

I’m making another one! His mom yelled with her back still to them. She was very patient, but Dylan could get her pissed when he got like this. Then all three of them would be yelling and worked up over God knows what. It was part of why he moved out when he turned 21, that and the inevitable cock-blocking that living at home entailed.

Thank God he had the GWG sponsorship this year. It had made living in his own apartment so much easier. He aimed to keep it.

See? All set, she’s making another one. Did you watch your shows this morning? Of course, the answer was yes. Dylan was a creature of habit and getting out of his habit lead to all kinds of bullshit. The question was really a way to get him on track, rather than one he needed an answer to. To be honest, Craddock liked hearing about today’s episode of The Amazing World of Gumball or whatever.

As Dylan got deeply into his recap Craddock gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. She patted his.

So, when’s the next fight? His mom didn’t come, watching him get bloody or dish it out to other guys, made her nuts. She said she was too nervous. Which meant she also didn’t bring Dylan to a match.

If mom wasn’t there, Dylan lost it during the fights. Since Dylan needed her to calm him down and let him know that little brother was okay, Dylan didn’t get to see the fights. It was all too much drama. It bummed him out that there was no one to help keep Dylan’s shit together, but that’s the way it was.

Any time Ma saw a cut or bruise after the fight she’d start in on why he should learn a trade and how the odds of getting your face bashed in as a welder were significantly lower.

Craddock didn’t need her derailing him with doubt, so it was okay with him that no one ever came to his fights. Even his uncle, who was a good guy, had to work nights, cheering section wise, it was sparse. Well, boo hoo, he reasoned, less to worry about while he kicked ass.

I’m training for the big tournament in a couple weeks. Winner gets an offer with the 21C League. That’s the big money Ma.

Yeah, we’ll see. Here're some eggs. She didn’t believe his stories about the big money. More than once she said his dad used to talk about big money and the big time. He hated when she did that, compared him to his dad, but at least this time she held back and focused on giving him his eggs. She made them his favorite way.

Thanks. Craddock opened the fridge to grab some milk. The shelves were mostly bare. He made a note to buy some stuff and bring it tomorrow. Dylan ate like a horse, that combined with the mortgage meant mom’s cleaning job at the hotel was barely enough for them to get by. He knew Ma and Dylan needed more than some welder job could provide. He was going to get this house paid off and make sure she could retire.

I met a girl.

A slut? Or a girl.

I don’t think she’s a slut. Doesn’t look like one.

Well, looks aren’t the way to judge, but that’s something. To what do I owe the honor of you sharing something other than fight statistics with me?

You gonna bust on me or help me? She was starting to piss him off.

What? You wanna know how to treat this girl? Make her go out with you?

Yeah. Craddock knew how to get a girl in bed or the back seat and gone by breakfast. It was a skill he feared would be wasted on Cassidy.

Be nice, show her that smile of yours while you still got all your teeth and don’t be fresh. Ask her stuff. Like what she wants to do? A haircut wouldn’t hurt either, you look like a wild animal. What nice girl wants that? His mom quickly finished tidying up the kitchen and grabbed the lunch she’d packed for Dylan.

You’d be surprised mama. He winked at her.

She waved him off and put her wallet in her pocketbook as she got ready to leave for work.

Girls love Crad! They think he’s Superman! Dylan teased his brother. Craddock put him in a front headlock and gave him a noogie.

Tap out! Dylan tapped Craddock’s shoulder. And Craddock let him out of the hold.  Dylan was the same height as Craddock, but a lot squishier since his favorite foods were toast and Skittles.

"I let you