Dingy stomps off, muttering under his breath, eyes on concrete. For a blink, it feels like it’s over. People scramble back into the rhythm of the bar: curses, laughter, the clink of glass, trying to stitch the moment closed.
They pile into the SUV — bodies thud and settle, car doors slam. I step to the side to give them room, and that’s when something explodes across the back of my skull.
The world tilts. Pain blossoms pure and hot, and lights up everything I can’t see.
On instinct, anger answers pain. I twist around and grin — ugly, because I know the grin is a lie, and I’m sayingCome on, is that all you got?— and he lunges exactly like I knew he would.
The first connection is a rush of motion: a shoulder into my chest, a fist into my jaw. I throw weight, not finesse. The world narrows to the contest — breath, balance, hands. I’m on him before he thinks, because if you give a drunk the space to think, he gets dangerous.
Fists, a grunt, someone screaming for security. My knuckles find him, his jaw, the hollow behind his ear. He hits me back, and it’s stupid and glorious and stupid again because every time I land, I remember the kid in the SUV, the woman being harassed, and all the reasons this had to stop.
Koa’s voice is cutting through the din. “Enough!”
He clamps on my shoulder like a vice and drags me back hard. “Get in the vehicle, Deacon. Now.”
I fight the impulse to go back for the guy, to make him regret the swing, but Koa’s hand is a law. Dash’s grip catches my other arm.
I’m in a seat, eyes still trying to come into focus, and still fighting back the anger.
“I hope they pay you well,” Koa says to someone.
“They pay very well,” a man answers.
“You’re bleeding,” someone says, and I look back as someone hands me a cloth.
“Appreciate it.” I hold it to the back of my head, sure that’s where the blood must be.
“Did he sucker punch you?” Dash asks.
“My own damn fault for not seeing it coming. The kid’s been a steaming pile of shit the entire time I’ve known him.”
“Ouch,” one of the girls in the vehicle says.
“Deacon, Claudia has a child with him, so maybe …” I blink and see Nalani is speaking, and she comes into focus. I turn to the other woman, and for a moment, I feel like my brain is skipping like an old vinyl record, and it’s not from the hit.
“I know who Claudia is.” I lean over and look at the little girl sleeping in the car seat on her lap. “There is a God. She looks like her mom.”
“Wait—how do you know Claudia?” Koa asks.
“Met her at the bar after a game, asked her if she knew what she was getting into. She didn’t answer. You were all there.”
“Avoiding Dingy?” Dash laughs.
“It was not a big deal,” Claudia, who is obviously shaken up and isn’t the same woman I remember back then. “A fling. I got pregnant. I told him because I thought it was the right thing to do. He chose not to be part of her life, and now this.”
“My old man was a dick; he thought child support was paying for time to kick his kids around.”
She blinks a few times and glances at Nalani, who puts her hand over Claudia’s. “He’s not gonna get a chance. I caught it all on video.”
“Queen move.” Sofie Fairfax, who I’m just seeing, reaches out a fist, and they tap them.
Claudia turns and looks at Dash. “I’ve never asked or received support. I wasn’t a puck bunny or whatever they call them.”
“Shit, Claudia, I wasn’t implying that you were.” Dash shakes his head. “Sorry if I came off as a tool.”
“There is no need to apologize. I just wanted to make sure that it’s clear that I didn’t have a child to trap an athlete. I gotpregnant and knew I would be able to take care of the child and give her a good life.”
“She’s a doctor,” Nalani states with pride, as she should.
