"You’ve started training…"

  Maisie’s making it easier for him to explain, in a way, but he’s curious how she found out. It’s hardly because he got home late—he’s done that before. It’s not likely his limping either; she hasn’t seen him hobbling yet. She starts with questions right from the door.

  His expression must be telling enough because Maisie answers herself while rummaging through the rooms:

  "Your shirt from the other day. It was covered in blood."

  "Could’ve been something from work."

  "Come on, Eddie. You wear an apron at work. And you’d never work in that shirt." Maisie’s holding the "Best Dad Ever" shirt, practically shoving it in his face. "But it kind of saddens me you trained in it."

  "It wasn’t on purpose, Maisie. I grabbed it without thinking."

  That was almost true.

  "And decided to bleed all over it right away."

  "That wasn’t the goal, Maisie. It just happened."

  "Maybe so. You didn’t look beat up, really. Or at least I didn’t see it."

  She didn’t need to say everything on her mind to make him feel guilty. The tension’s thick between them—if it had a color, it’d be red. Bright red. Almost bloody. Maisie pretends to busy herself around the house while Theo’s voice drifts from their bedroom, chattering some baby nonsense to himself. Eddie stands at the door like he’s been scolded, wondering what his next move should be.

  "You just gonna stand there?" Maisie prompts him. Eddie kicks off his shoes and steps in slowly, trying not to let the pain in his legs show. He didn’t even hide this well from his mom as a kid.

  The wind’s turned into near-storm levels, and Maisie’s closed all the windows. The laundry’s strung up in the kitchen. They clearly didn’t wait for him for dinner—he’ll eat alone. That doesn’t bother him. He’s just worried about when Maisie will blow up. Because she’s on the edge, and Eddie might be a simple cook and ex-boxer, but he’s not dumb. He’s been with plenty of women before Maisie. He knows full well nothing good’s coming. And if something’s going to happen, better it happens soon.

  "Is it official?"

  He knows exactly what Maisie’s asking. He debates whether to answer or first ask what she means.

  "No. Nothing’s official."

  "Don’t lie to me." Maisie hurls two freshly washed tank tops at him. She can’t hold back her anger. Then, guiltily, she turns and keeps hanging the rest of the wet clothes on the indoor line. She’s been asking for a dryer forever, but Eddie keeps putting it off. Maybe he wouldn’t have caught another wet shirt if he’d given in. "Everyone’s talking. They’re talking at work, in the cafés, in the stores. Brantley’s a small town, Eddie. You can’t hide anything from me."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Then they’re lying to you. I haven’t signed anything or agreed to anything."

  "Then why does everyone know Rory Flint’s got a fight coming up? And that his opponent’s the ‘LEGEND’ of the town—Eddie Walsh. I’m telling you, Eddie, I’ve never been so ashamed as I was today."

  "What’s shameful about it?" He snaps but tries to stay gentle with her. "Your husband’s being talked about for a boxing match against one of the town’s most promising fighters, and you’re ashamed? That’s insulting."

  "My husband—" she repeats, "is about to become the town laughingstock when he comes home beaten by some kid. You know what they’ll say then? ‘That Eddie must be broke. A suicide case.’ Or they’ll come after me. ‘Maisie made him do it. She’s just like the rest, greedy for cash. Poor Eddie.’" Maisie mimics the gossip so well that Eddie almost laughs, but he keeps it together.

  "First, since when do you care what people say? And second, can’t you just stand behind me? Aren’t you my support? In good times and bad?" They’re not married, but those are wedding vows. So what if they haven’t said them? Shouldn’t they live by them?

  "I told you beforehand, Eddie. I’m against it. So I’ve got every right to complain now."

  She actually told him if he takes the fight, she’ll leave him. Since she hasn’t, the threat must be off. But he doesn’t remind her. The dumbest thing right now would be to bring it up.

  "I haven’t agreed to anything, Maisie."

  "But you trained."

  "Well, yeah. I love boxing."

  "You don’t love it. You made money off boxing. Then you couldn’t wait to quit. You can’t fool me."

  "Just accept that the excitement’s come back to me. And you didn’t mind me training."

  She stays silent for a few moments, which feels like years to Eddie. But he’s smart. He knows not to talk in moments like this.

  "Did you train today too?"

  "Just ran. That’s it."

  "You and running?" She laughs. "I can barely get you out of bed in the morning. It’s clear now. You’re going to take it. And you won’t care about me. But I told you." Her mood shifts to hysteria. Eddie’s seen her like this before, but he’s never liked it. And he doesn’t know what to do. He knows, actually, but it might be too late now.

  "Your phone’s ringing." He didn’t hear it, but Maisie points it out.

  Eddie picks it up and sees Rex’s name on the screen. Before he can answer, Rex hangs up.

  "Who was it?" She asks, which isn’t unusual. They always share.

  "Rex."

  "Uh-huh." Eddie can’t wait for this night to end. "Aren’t you going to call him back?"

  Eddie feels like he’s back in most of his boxing career—cornered and pummeled from all sides until the round ends. And when he takes a beating for a few rounds, he ends up losing the fight.

  Which he’s not planning to let happen now.

  "I’ll see him tomorrow."

  "You’re scared I’ll hear, right? Is it that hard to admit it, Eddie? You’ve agreed, and now you’re scared. Coward."

  From the other room, Theo’s voice calls out, and they both go quiet. When they hear he’s just laughing, Eddie decides to be honest. Like always.

  "Rex texted me." He shows her the screen. "They want to sign the contract tomorrow. I told you, I haven’t agreed."