Fighting for Keeps

A long time passed before Victoria appeared in the doorway, out of breath. “Hi, Lindsay.”

“Hey, Vic,” Lindsay mumbled, fighting a sense of irritation at the sight of Rachel’s partner in the inn. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Victoria. The opposite was true—she admired and respected the woman who’d left Brookhollow years before to pursue a career in New York City. Lindsay just wished she’d stayed there instead of returning to marry Luke Dawson. A man Lindsay had always had feelings for. Unreciprocated feelings, but still...

“I wanted to say good-night. I’m heading out. The front entrance is locked and no other guests are scheduled to check in tonight.”

“Okay, as soon as I put the girls to bed, I’ll go down and get the tables set for tomorrow’s breakfast,” Rachel said.

“It’s done.”

“Wow, I don’t know how you’re not dead on your feet. When I was pregnant, I got exhausted walking to the bathroom.” Rachel slid Abigail’s tiny arms into the one-piece pajamas covered in dinosaurs.

Her frugal sister-in-law reused as much of her older children’s clothes on the smaller ones as she could. Nathan’s company had picked up in the past year, but Lindsay knew that being self-employed often gave the couple concern, especially with the possibility of five college tuitions to pay for someday.

“Ah, staying busy helps to keep my mind off things.” Victoria shrugged, but Lindsay noticed the dark circles under the blonde’s tired eyes.

The nurse in her took over.

“Keeping busy is fine, but you really should start taking it easier in these last few weeks. You’re going to need your strength for the delivery,” she said bluntly. Victoria’s blood pressure had been high at her appointment the month before. She was afraid the high-strung workaholic was overdoing it.

Besides running the B and B, the woman was still volunteering on the New Jersey Tourism Board, against her doctor’s recommendations. And Lindsay knew the mom-to-be was putting the baby’s nursery together, instead of waiting for Luke.

“See? Nurse’s orders to take it easy,” Rachel said, zipping Mackenzie’s fire-truck-printed one-piece.

Victoria held her hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. I promise to slow down.” She kissed both little girls before turning with a wave and wobbling back down the stairs.

When she was out of earshot, Rachel whispered, “I’m worried about her.” Her sister-in-law hesitated. “She made me promise not to say anything...”

Lindsay crossed her heart. “Look, I know I’m the source of most of the gossip in town, but I’ll consider this patient confidentiality. What is it?”

“She passed out in the kitchen yesterday.” Setting Mackenzie in the crib, Rachel pulled the fleece blanket over her and kissed her cheek.

“Had she eaten anything?”

“Yeah, we’d just finished lunch.”

That was worrisome. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Victoria certainly wouldn’t have. “I’ll make a note on her file to check her blood sugar on next week’s visit.”

“Thanks, Lindsay.” Rachel looked relieved as she turned off the bedroom light and softly closed the door behind them. “With Luke out of town a lot, I worry about her.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” she said with a sigh.

When she’d bought the house next door to Luke almost two years before, she’d hoped their “new neighbor” status would bring them closer together, but then Victoria had moved back to Brookhollow.

Living next door to the couple was tough.

Over the past few months Lindsay had contemplated selling her home and moving closer to the medical clinic. Especially now that there would be a family in the house next door.

Maybe being in a less “family friendly” neighborhood might make her single status easier to live with.

* * *

NOAH PACED THE GYM, listening to the side of the phone conversation he could hear, as his trainer spoke to the New Jersey athletic commissioner. With the number of uh-huh...okay’s and I understand’s from Brandon, it was impossible to determine whether the MMA fight next month in Newark would be sanctioned or not.

He needed this fight.

With his record 6-0 since he’d started fighting the year before, under the guidance of Brandon Sheppard and his brother, who owned the local MMA club, he only needed another knockout to be considered for the UFC—the biggest MMA organization in the world.

Not to mention, he hadn’t had a payday in six weeks, since his last fight in LA, and the money in his bank account was dwindling. His volunteer role at the local fire station had yet to turn into a paid position, which he’d hoped for when he moved to Brookhollow from Beach Haven the year before.

He was starting to wonder if he’d ever achieve his dream of fighting in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.

He tried to push his strained finances from his mind as he waited for the verdict on his upcoming fight.

“Okay, thank you, sir,” Brandon said as he disconnected the call.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Am I fighting next month?” His eyes wide, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, Noah waited.

“Yeah, you’re fighting next month.”

Yes!

He’d watched countless YouTube videos of his opponent’s previous bouts and the Bronx native was nothing he couldn’t handle. He and Brandon had identified holes in Romeo Rodriguez’s ground game as well as a weak right hook. Noah was prepared to dominate the fight by playing into the weak spots.

Brandon opened his desk drawer and pulled out the medical clearance form, giving it to him. “Once you get the results from your MRI, have Dr. McCarthy sign this. You may need additional blood work—she’ll let you know.”

Noah winced. It wasn’t the needle so much as the idea of blood leaving his body that made him woozy. Ironic, given his choice of career.

The only plus side to more tests was having a valid excuse to see Lindsay Harper again. He’d been flirting with her for months and thought he’d made headway with her at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding. But she’d ignored his every attempt to see her since.

“Speaking of the MRI, how many have we sent you for this year?”

Noah shrugged. He’d known this was going to come up at some point. “Three.”

Brandon leaned against the counter, the fabric of his old, ratty Extreme Athletics T-shirt straining at his waist. The coach hadn’t fought in years and had relaxed his own training in recent months. “Look, most guys aren’t fighting so often. After this fight, I need you to take a longer break, okay?”

He couldn’t afford a longer break. He was paying a reasonable monthly rate for the apartment above the gym, but he was already late with this month’s rent. He nodded. “Okay.”

“I mean it. At least three months.”

Three months? That couldn’t happen. “What about the UFC? I thought once I win this fight next month, we were going to try to get me onto the August 22 fight card.”

Twelve weeks away. With a payout for a win in the UFC, he could afford to take a three-month break from fighting, not before.

Brandon hesitated. “I don’t know. Why don’t we try for the October...maybe even the November fight card? It will give you a break, repair some of the torn muscles from overtraining...”

Noah shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m at the top of my game Brandon...I need this August fight, then I promise to take a break.” Unless the UFC wanted him again right away. Then how could he possibly say no?

“Get through this one, okay? Then we’ll talk.” Brandon tapped him on the shoulder as he led the way to the mat to resume their training.

“Okay,” Noah said, knowing with or without his coach’s consent he’d be on the UFC’s August fight card.

The only thing standing in the way of his UFC debut was Romeo Rodriguez.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHY ARE THE men bowling in the dark?” Lily Duke asked, sitting across from her in the booth at the pool hall cum bowling alley cum movie theater later that evening.

Lindsay squinted in the dim lighting and turned in her seat. “They’re glow bowling,” she said, suppressing an urge to roll her eyes as the pool hall’s bartender glanced their way. “Heather’s trying to bring a younger crowd to the weekly bowling leagues.”

“Doesn’t she know we are the younger crowd around here?” Lily laughed, sipping her wine.

“I don’t blame her for wanting to liven this place up. It could use some new blood, but I think she’s fighting a losing battle.”

Heather Corbett was a New York City girl who’d come to Brookhollow the year before for Victoria and Luke’s wedding and had stuck around. She’d taken over the bar when Melody Myers had left town to pursue a music career. Heather had redecorated the space as best as she could, adding laminated drink menus to the tables and rearranging the pool tables to create a bigger dance floor. She’d somehow gotten the owner to approve the addition of four big flatscreens, which were now blasting the opening theme song of the UFC’s pay-per-view.

That, too, was a new addition to the pool hall’s offerings. Lindsay shuddered. “I didn’t realize the fights were this weekend.” It had been bad enough when sports were showed continuously on the big screens.

Lily glanced toward the flatscreen as highlights from previous fights flashed, her face clouding.

“You okay? We don’t have to stay...” Lindsay reached for her coat, but Lily waved a hand.

“No, it’s fine.” She released a deep breath. “Men hitting each other doesn’t really bother me...it was one particular guy beating me half to death that I objected to.” She tugged on her sleeve to cover the long scars Lindsay knew were on her forearms.

Her stomach turned. She remembered all too well how badly hurt Lily had been when she’d arrived in Brookhollow.

Her car had run out of gas outside of town and Bailey had brought her to the medical center after picking her up in the tow truck. Frightened and frantic, Lily’d fought against receiving medical care, despite swollen black eyes, a busted lip and gashes on her right side from a knife attack. Damage caused by the husband she’d been fleeing.

One who was now thankfully in jail in Newark.

“You’re safe now,” she said, repeating what she’d repeated over and over to the scared woman while the doctors at the clinic had treated her wounds.

Lily nodded. “If you had told me a year ago I’d be free of him and living here with my own clothing store and amazing new friends, I never would have believed it.”

“Well, believe it.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re all so happy you decided to stay.”

Especially her. Her reputation in town as being a gossip and a busybody was one she didn’t refute, but it made making real friends difficult—it always had. Lily didn’t seem to mind, accepting her for who she was.

The small bar grew louder as the fights started and while Lindsay refused to watch them, she could appreciate the physiques of the fighters as they disrobed to climb into the ring. Muscle from head to toe. Strong, alpha males were admittedly her thing—she just wished men with bodies like that didn’t come with inflated egos and empty minds.

“They are nice to look at, I’ll give them that,” she said, sipping her cosmo. An image of Noah’s sculpted biceps flashed in her mind.

Across the bar, the man himself caught her eye. In a pair of jeans that hugged his thighs and a black T-shirt with the UFC logo on the front, he looked comfortable, confident and relaxed. His easy you-lied-to-me smile made her glance away quickly.

She groaned.

She should have known with the limited choices for a night out in Brookhollow, he’d find out she’d been lying about having to work.

She reached for a menu. “We should eat,” she said to Lily, scanning it. She could feel Noah’s gaze still on her and her cheeks flushed. Why was he staring at her? She shot him a look. He laughed and took a mouthful of his beer, winking at her over the bottle.

Holy hotness.

She shook her head. What a waste. It was a shame really.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked.

She snapped her attention back to her friend. “Nothing. Why?”

“Who were you looking at?” Lily turned in her seat, glancing toward the group of men watching the fights. “Ah...Noah.”

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just a matter of time before he wears you down, you know.”

“I’ll have you know, he asked me out again today, and again I said no.”

She should be praised for her resolve. Since moving to Brookhollow the year before, Noah had asked her out several times and every time he came into the clinic, he asked for her. He was about as subtle as a brick to the forehead.

Lily cocked her head to the side.

“What?”

“I guess I just don’t get it.”

“Oh, come on. I’d never even consider dating Noah or any of those guys that train over at Extreme Athletics. I mean, sure they are among the hottest men anywhere, but you know how little respect I have for their career. I’m a nurse. I’ll never date a fighter.”

“Even though the chemistry between the two of you last weekend at Bailey and Ethan’s wedding rivaled that of the happy couple?”

Lindsay scoffed. “It was only a dance.”

“Four dances and, believe me, all eyes were on the two of you.”

She’d known dancing with Noah at the wedding would spark gossip all over town, but she was used to being a topic of conversation and she’d learned over the years that people believed what they wanted to believe. No amount of protest would convince them otherwise, so she’d given up trying.

“According to Nathan, all eyes were on the length of my dress,” she said, rolling her eyes. Her brother would find any excuse to criticize her. They’d once been close...but their differences made it difficult to be friends in adulthood. Her brother was a worrier and slightly uptight. He had trouble relaxing and enjoying life. She saw things differently, wanting to enjoy every moment, and short dresses and dancing the night away were a part of that. If her brother didn’t like it...too bad.

“Whatever. You have great legs. Why not show them off?”

“Would you have worn it?” She toyed with the stem of her wineglass. The opinions of others rarely mattered to her.

“No!”

“Great, so it was a T-shirt pulled down over my hips?”

Lily laughed. “Maybe. But who cares? You looked great in it... You know what? I may borrow it sometime.”

Lindsay laughed. “Yeah, right.” She couldn’t remember ever seeing Lily in a dress or anything that showed any amount of skin. She knew her friend was self-conscious about her scars, but she also suspected her ex-husband’s abuse had been more than just physical.

Heather approached the table with a round of drinks. “Compliments of the hottest man I’ve seen in here...ever,” she said, setting the drinks in front of them and nodding toward Noah.

He lifted his beer in greeting across the pool hall. Heather and Lily all but swooned. Lindsay smiled her thanks before placing her empty glass on Heather’s tray.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ll dance with him, you’ll accept his free drinks, but you won’t date him.”

If she dated every man she’d ever flirted with, she’d have dated every man under forty in New Jersey.

She smiled at her friend. “Exactly.”

* * *

NOAH PARKED HIS motorcycle in the back parking lot at the community center late the next morning. The enormous space was home to a dozen after-school programs and summer camps throughout the year, and served as a host venue for weddings and holiday parties, as well. It was a staple in the community and the heart of Brookhollow.

As he took off his helmet, the door to the center opened and a tall, thin, teenage boy came out. “Hey, Dominic,” Noah said.

The kid’s face lit up. “Hey, Noah. I didn’t think you were going to make it today.”

Made him grateful he’d climbed his tired butt out of bed. “Of course. Sorry I’m late.” He secured his helmet to the bike and stripped out of his leather Rocket jacket in the hot, early June sun.

“When are you going to let me drive your bike?” Dominic asked, his admiring gaze on the Honda Cruiser.

“The day you get your motorcycle license. How did the permit test go?”

Dominic’s shoulders sagged. “Not so great.”

What a drag. He’d been hoping the boy’s third try would be a success. “Don’t worry about it. Next time. You got your road rules book here?”

Dominic nodded unenthusiastically.

“Great. We’ll work on it again today.” Wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders, he ushered him back inside the community hall.

To his right, a group of volunteers played basketball with some twelve-to fourteen-year-olds and on his left, at the computer stations, members of the Turnaround program were helping an older teen update his résumé.

Since starting the program nine months ago, they had placed eight kids with local jobs. Noah prayed the government funding for the program continued beyond this first term the city had agreed to as a test.

Brookhollow was a quiet, peaceful town, but that didn’t mean there was enough work to go around and that nobody had any problems.

Noah had grown up in a small town very much like this. He knew firsthand what it was like to be a kid from a family that never had enough. And to have parents who...well...who didn’t know how to cope with raising a child. He swallowed hard, squeezing Dominic’s shoulder before dropping his hand.

This program was there for kids who needed the support they weren’t getting at home, kids who were deemed troublemakers by school officials and who were never given a chance to move beyond their circumstances.

From inside the office, Joanne was signaling for him. He nodded and turned to Dominic. “Why don’t you find a table and get started? I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, but I really think a hands-on approach would help me learn better.”

“Nice try, but your road test will be done with a car, not a motorcycle. Not exactly the same thing.”

Inside the office, Joanne Kelly greeted him with a warm smile, then an immediate, “Bad news.”

“Fantastic, I love starting the day with bad news. Means the day can only get better. Let’s hear it.”

Picking up a letter from the desk, she handed it to him. “The National Crime Prevention Strategy has denied our application for funding.”

“Again? I thought we jumped through all the hoops this time. How can they continue to deny the funding? This program is designed to do exactly what they’re hoping to accomplish at a community level—reduce the number of kids in the criminal justice system.”

Noah took the letter and scanned it quickly for the reason. “Lack of sufficient regulations on the program.” Again.

He tossed the paper onto the desk and sat in the chair across from Joanne. “I don’t know what else to do. We have the New Jersey parole officers on board making sure these kids get to the programs three times a week to meet with their mentors...you’re on staff now...” He shrugged.

“I’m a volunteer on loan from Mentor’s partnership program. You need full-time staff. A social worker would be a good start...a real teacher to oversee the tutoring...”

“These kids’ grades have improved significantly with the help of mentors. And I’ve tried to get real teachers involved. No one has the extra time to give to the program,” he said harshly.

Noah saw through the excuses: no one saw the value in the program. How was that even possible? He was convinced they were helping the kids who’d enrolled.

Weren’t they?

He shook his head in disgust. Now was not the time to start having doubts. He would just have to find a better way to prove that the community center mentorship helped change lives for the better.

“Hey, I’m not the enemy here,” Joanne chided softly. “I’m just trying to explain why the funding keeps getting denied.”

He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. Without funding, I can’t hire accredited staff, and without them, I can’t get funding.”

It had been an uphill battle to even get the nine-month trial approved on the program without regular, accredited staff in place, but he’d assured the city official he’d met with that he was working on it. He was. Joanne had been a good start. Of course, she was correct. She was only on loan and volunteering her time; for how long, he didn’t know.

Joanne hesitated, twirling a strand of her bright red hair around her finger.

A nervous habit of hers. Great, there was more she wasn’t saying. He waited.

“It gets even worse,” she said finally.

“So much for my theory of it only getting better,” he mumbled.

“The city sent a letter informing us the Turnaround funding would only be extended until the end of the month...they say the program hasn’t produced enough significant results to warrant their support beyond that.”

“Not enough significant...” Noah stood with his hands on his hips, fighting to control his anger. Joanne was just the messenger. He wouldn’t take his frustration out on his only real supporter.

He took a calming breath before saying, “How can they say that taking eight kids off the street isn’t significant enough?” One of the eight had even returned to finish high school at nights.

“Because last month, twenty kids in New Jersey were incarcerated. Unfortunately it’s a numbers game, Noah. We have to prove the program is working. And now I’m going to say something that will probably make you even more angry, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

He waited. What he both appreciated and hated about the woman was her blunt candidness. He suspected today he was going to hate it.

“You need to be here more. If this program has any hope of success, it needs you. The volunteer mentors are trying, but they need direction and guidance.”

He knew she was right. He’d started the program when he’d met Dominic. The boy had been walking home with a bleeding lip and tears in his eyes. After much prying, the boy had told him that the injury was a result of him refusing to participate in a gang initiation break-and-enter at an abandoned warehouse outside town.

Noah’s admiration of the boy’s courage and strength to do the right thing had sparked a fire in him to help kids like Dominic find alternatives to a criminal path. Kids who wanted to do the right thing but couldn’t find a way out of the trouble they were involved in.

Kids like him at sixteen.

In less than a year he’d grown the after-school mentoring and outreach program to fifteen student volunteers three times a week, each paired with two at-risk youth in the community. The mentors were potential at-risk older teens who’d found purpose and direction in helping younger kids.

The motto of the program was “We are all on the same journey, just at different points.”

The common stories shared between mentors and mentees brought them closer and instilled confidence and respect in the younger kids. Noah shared his own story of going down the wrong path with these kids over and over in the hope of being a role model for these children.

The only real problem was that the program was growing at the same time as his fighting career. Something he hadn’t fully considered.

As much as he knew how important his direct involvement was to the future success of the program, he couldn’t be in more than one place at once and his training was important, too.

“I’ll figure something out.”

Joanne didn’t look convinced as she nodded. “Okay, what do I do in the meantime?”

“Please keep reapplying for the funding. The worst they can do is keep saying no, right?”

When she opened her mouth to respond, he shook his head. “Don’t answer that.”

He knew that wasn’t the worst they could do. In truth, without the proper regulations in place and a permanent on-staff director who could be held responsible for the program, the city could shut it down at any time.