Page 19 of Nights at Seaside
“You know I’ll do you a solid and train when I can. Right now my time’s a little tight. Is Roach here yet?” Roach was one of the best-known boxing trainers on the East Coast. He trained world champion boxers and UFC fighters, and Sawyer knew how lucky he was to have him as not just his trainer, but his mentor and friend.
“In the back,” Brock answered. “Hey, we’re all going down to Undercover tomorrow night for a cappella night. You want to drive down with me?”
“Nah. I’ll meet you guys there.” Years ago, on a dare, Sawyer, Roach, and Brock had sung a cappella at the bar Brock’s brother Colton owned, and they’d continued doing it every few weeks since then. It was a great stress reliever and a lot of fun. Sawyer knew that when Brock saidwe’re all going, he was referring to his younger sisters, Jana and Harper. Brock’s siblings had become the siblings Sawyer never had. They got together often and supported each other through bad times and good.
Sawyer walked through the club, passing the bag area, where heavy bags, double-end bags, and other training bags hung from thick metal chains. He nodded at the two guys working out there, then passed the two boxing rings off to his left and found Roach talking on his cell phone and pacing by the locker rooms. Roach nodded at him, then turned his back and continued his conversation. He was a formidable man with massive arms and a thick barrel chest. The breadth of his shoulders was twice the size of his waist. He kept his jet-black hair cropped close to his head, giving him a startlingly tough look, and like his three brothers, when Roach was working, he was about as gruff as they came.
Sawyer set his bag down and began wrapping his hands for his bag workout.
He looked across the room at the boxing ring, and his gut churned. He was sparring after the bag work, and for the first time ever, as his doctor’s warning rang through his mind, the ring looked slightly menacing. He couldn’t allow himself to give the warning a second thought. Second thoughts led to doubt, and doubt led to carelessness, which in turn would likely lead him to exactly what gave him the second thought in the first place—the threat of permanent brain damage.
Roach ended his call and slapped Sawyer on the back. “How’s your pop, Songbird?”
“Not bad. You know. Good days, bad days,” he answered as he finished wrapping his hands and reached for his gloves.
“You get a clean bill of health from the doc?” Roach shoved his phone in his pocket and looked over the bags while Sawyer mulled over his answer.
“About as clean as you’d expect.” He handed his gloves to Roach, who eyed him suspiciously while he helped him put them on.
“Meaning?” Roach had eyes that could flash hot as fire or cold as ice. Either way they could elicit fear from anyone within a ten-foot radius. At the moment they were riding a fine line in between.
Sawyer had no interest in pushing him over either side, so he chose silence and took a step toward the bag.
Roach grabbed his arm. “Spit it out or you don’t train.”
“Roach. Let it go.” Roach had been right there in the trenches with Sawyer when he’d learned of his father’s diagnosis, and he’d stayed with him every step of the way as his father’s disease progressed. Roach worked him hard when he needed it and gave him space to run off the pain when the ring was too confining. He was also a veteran in the industry, and Sawyer had no doubt that his savvy coach knew exactly what he was trying his best to hide.
Roach wrapped a thick arm over Sawyer’s shoulder and pushed his forearm against his neck, slowly tightening like a vise grip. “Three. Two—”
“Fine.” He flung Roach’s arm away from his neck and muttered, “Jerk.”
Roach crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at Sawyer.
“One more punch to the head,” Sawyer said with a piercing pain in his gut. Somehow saying it out loud made it more real. “You know the score. They try to scare the life out of you to cover their butts.”
Roach didn’t say a word. His biceps twitched, and his eyes shifted to the ring.
“Say something or let’s train. I’ve got a lot of stuff to get out of my head.”
“What’s your plan?” Roach’s dead-calm tone made Sawyer edgy.
“Train like a lunatic and win the title—then I’ll think about retiring.”
“Come on, Sawyer. You can’t disregard what he said with a generalization likehe’s covering his butt.”
Sawyer stepped closer, challenging him with a narrow-eyed stare. “I’m going to fight with or without you. I’m going to win with or without you. And my father is going to have every penny he needs. Now, either train me or step aside.”
Roach stepped so close Sawyer could smell the anger on his breath and feel the ice in his stare. “You stubborn fool. I haven’t trained you all these years to hand you over to some other trainer who will run you into the ground. If you’re stupid enough and determined enough to do this, you arenotdoing it without me. I actually care aboutyou, and no other coach is going to. It’s your head and my rep on the line, so don’t mess it up.” He paused, clenching his teeth repeatedly. “But you’d better think long and hard about this, because there’s no way I will be the one greeting your mother in the hospital to tell her that now she not only has a husband to look after, but a son, too.”
Roach walked away, leaving Sawyer to stew in his own messed up situation.
AT NINE O’CLOCK Sky was still sitting on the deck of Amy and Tony’s cottage, having breakfast with Jenna, Amy, and Bella. She loved mornings at Seaside, when she and the girls caught up from the night before and their husbands went jogging together. The last few years she’d come to Seaside for breakfast several times each week even though she hadn’t been staying there. The girls and their husbands had welcomed her into their lives when she moved back to help her father with his store, and they’d become as close as family.
Leanna Remington came out of her cottage with her fluffy white Labradoodle, Pepper, trotting along beside her. She held up two jars of jam as she crossed the gravel road and joined them. Her dark hair hung loose and wild over her shoulders, and her batik tank top had streaks of red jam on it. Leanna had married probably the only man on earth who could put up with her disorganized and messy ways, which was funny, because Kurt was as methodical, organized, and neat as they came. He was forever cleaning stains from her clothing, and the girls never failed to tease them about it.
“My newest creation!” Leanna set the jars of Luscious Leanna’s Sweet Treats jam on the table while Pepper wound around the girls’ feet and licked their bare legs, whimpering for attention, which they happily lavished on him. Leanna had started Luscious Leanna’s a few summers ago, and now her jellies and jams were sold all over the Cape and used in restaurants as well.
“Wait until you try my Moon-Shine Jelly,” Leanna said with a wide smile. “I’m spelling it with a hyphen betweenmoonandshinejust to give it a little something special. It tastes just like apple pie. It’s made with chardonnay, apple, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar. It’ssogood I’m surprised I haven’t gained ten pounds while perfecting the recipe.”
