“Mom’s going to shit a brick.”
“You need to let him tell her.”
“Oh.” I raise my hands. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. That’s all on Joe to break the news to Sandy Morrissey.” She’s literally going to flip. That woman has a thing about family. She wants us all close. Hell, she’d probably be happy if we all lived with her forever. My dad? Not as much.
“Good plan. Let Joe take the fall.”
“No problem.” Wow. California. Joe. I suddenly feel sad about it. “I’ll miss the disgusting pig.”
And I’ve done it again. I’ve made Lucky laugh.
Life’s good.
Dinner is fun. No. Fun isn’t the right word. It’s perfect. Lucky has been chatty and pleasant. I think it’s the first time since I’ve known him that we were alone, just the two of us. As soon as we finish eating, Lucky points toward the hall. “Go get done in Joe’s room. After I clean up the kitchen, I’m going to head out.”
“Oh.” I know my face looks like someone just stole all my candy. Someone did. “Where are you going?” I hope it’s not to Tiff’s house.
“Workout.”
“Boxing?”
His back is turned to me as he rinses off our plates. “Yeah.”
“Can I come?” Okay. Why did I ask that?
Lucky’s head rotates. He’s frowning. “Youwant to box?”
Why is that hard to believe? Okay, truth? I just want to watchhimbox, but I guess I could try it. “I’m almost done.” I point back to Joe’s room. “The sheets are in the dryer. I can’t really do a deep clean unless I’ve got a hazmat suit, and they don’t sell those at the CVS. I checked.”
I watch his frown turn upside down.
It’s beautiful.
His low rumble of a laugh starts up again, and I’m beginning to think it’s the best sound in the entire world. Because I know I’m the one that did that. I made Lucky Ganetti laugh.
“You bring something to work out in?”
I look down at my tee and leggings. “Uh.” I point to myself. “This outfit is ready for anything.”
He chuckles low again as he nods. “Be ready in fifteen minutes.”
“Yay!” I do a Deena and clap like a cheerleader. “I’m going to punch some stuff.” He laughs again as I run back to Joe’s room to find my sneakers.
6
Becklyn
“I’m goingto be so good at this,” I say as I tap the boxing gloves together in front of me like the professionals. I’m bouncing back and forth from foot to foot like they do there too. “I mean, I’m Irish. And we Irish hold in a lot of anger, which makes us great fighters.”
“Is that right?” Lucky chuckles.
“Oh, yeah. Look at all the great Irish boxers…”
Lucky pauses putting his wrap on. He’s already got my hands wrapped and a spare set of boxing gloves he had in his locker. They’re huge on me, but he said they’d work. When he looks up at me, he arches his brow like he’s waiting for me to say something.
“Oh, you want me to name one?” I give him my best smile. “There’s the greatest pugilist ever from back in the eighteenth century… Shaun O’Shaughnessy.”
His smile is instantaneous. It’s big, and he’s even showing teeth.
