The crowd isn’t happy, which makes him think Stanley didn’t win. It’s unlikely most of the people in the stands were rooting for the Romanian, Popescu. When he sees Stanley a few minutes later, he might’ve guessed right. Stanley looks downcast and definitely not happy.

  "A draw. The judges called it even."

  "At least you didn’t lose." Eddie tries to cheer him up.

  "Quiet, Stanley." Ballard snaps at him. "Don’t distract him. You’ll talk tomorrow."

  Stanley listens and plops down in his seat hard, like an angry kid.

  "Eddie Walsh?" The ref steps in after them. There’s commotion in the hallway behind him, and the crowd’s energy picks up. "Nice to meet you." One of the refs offers a hand. "I reffed your last fight. Good luck tonight."

  The ref’s just being polite, and Eddie thanks him. He holds out both hands, and the ref checks them before slipping on the gloves. It feels like he was just putting them on Stanley seconds ago.

  Eddie thinks of Stanley and turns around. His blond sparring partner is pissed but raises a fist in support.

  "Come on, my boy." Ballard leads the way.

  "EDDIE WALSH!" The event announcer shouts.

  The announcer’s a tall, lanky guy. Eddie’s never seen him before. When he calls his name, the hall erupts. Eddie’s not sure if it’s for him or just because they’ve been waiting for the final fight.

  Eddie walks slowly behind Ballard. He doesn’t hear what music they picked for him, doesn’t care about the crowd. He’s only interested in one thing—whether Maisie and Theo are here.

  They’re at the ring now. The hall used to hold no more than three hundred people, but now it feels expanded, maybe even five hundred strong. As he climbs the steps and slips through the ropes, he scans every side. He doesn’t catch specific words, but everything feels like slow motion—the people, the music, the announcer, the refs, the flashes. He hears a baby’s cry, hears Ballard saying something in his ear. He sees Rex standing in the front rows, winking at him. Next to Rex are a few people he doesn’t recognize.

  "And now, Brantley’s young hope…" The announcer starts introducing Rory Flint. Eddie tries to recall the numbers on Maisie’s two tickets but can’t. Five hundred people isn’t a lot—he could scan them all. "With four wins in four fights…" The announcer keeps going. Eddie’s pretty sure they’re in the second row. It’s not a huge hall, just two sides, not four, which makes it somewhat easier. "RORY FLINT!"

  The crowd gets to its feet, making Eddie’s task even harder. He doesn’t care about Rory. He feels like if he saw Maisie and she waved him down, he’d climb out right then. Problem is, he doesn’t see her.

  "Eddie!" Ballard calls. "EDDIE!"

  Eddie turns, only to see his burly coach in the corner.

  "You’re in the way. Come here so Rory can come out."

  Eddie catches himself and heads back to his corner.

  "What’s wrong with you, kid?" Ballard’s gripping his bicep with two fingers. A little more pressure, and he’d pinch him. "Someone got you worried? You’ve got the money. Just put on a good fight."

  Rory Flint steps out with his coach and his dad, Sonny. Rory’s behind them, looking more confident than he did yesterday at the weigh-in. He passes a few girls melting over him. He’s sweaty—or maybe he splashed water on himself to look like it’s dripping off him. He smacks his gloves together a few times. Now he really looks like a boxer. He climbs into the ring slowly, circling each side to greet the crowd. When he passes them, he hops over and offers a glove to Ballard. Ballard returns it. Eddie’s not bothered—he knows it’s normal. But he’s still searching for Maisie. Maybe she came alone, left Theo with her parents. He regrets not asking her earlier what she planned to do.

  Even though she told him.

  "Boys!" The ref calls Eddie and Rory to the center of the ring.

  This time, Eddie’s unsure. He steps forward hesitantly, feeling it, which won’t help him. Rory, on the other hand, is more confident. They face off briefly. Rory doesn’t break eye contact. Eddie’s more experienced and proves it—he doesn’t even glance at Rory, staring at the ref instead. If he looked, he’d risk showing uncertainty this time. This way, he gets under Rory’s skin.

  The ref stands between them, talking about a fair and manly fight.

  They both agree and tap gloves.

  A moment later, the fight begins.

  The hall falls silent, and the lights in the stands dim.

  It’s quiet. Eddie hears only Ballard’s voice and Rory’s footsteps. The kid shifts left, then right, inching closer with every move. Eddie stays still, doesn’t budge. He raises his guard and waits. He knows exactly what he needs to do—hold out. That’s it. He doesn’t think Rory’s strong enough to dominate him that much.

  But he’s wrong.

  Rory’s dance is followed by a hard right Eddie isn’t ready for. Rory’s hand slips through his guard and catches his right temple. To the average spectator, it looks like a standard boxing punch, but it’s jarring. And while his vision’s still blurry, Rory goes for a second shot.

  And lands it again.

  "EDDIE! Pull yourself together!" Ballard yells. "You gonna let him beat you?"

  Eddie raises his hands and latches onto Rory, grabbing his arms. He’s always thought taking punches is more exhausting than throwing them. Now he’s proving that theory. In the clinch, he hears Rory’s cocky, still slightly childish voice whisper softly for the first time:

  "You gonna fight, old man? Or should I send you back to the kitchen?"

  The ref steps in and breaks them apart.

  "Move your feet, Eddie. Dance, for God’s sake!"

  Ballard’s right, and Eddie listens. He starts moving. For a moment, he forgets everything else, and Rory doesn’t land a single hit, despite trying. Eddie’s no expert, but he’s good at reading opponents. Rory’s green. He’s still driven by emotion, not skill. But he’s good—his technique’s impressive, and paired with his speed, Eddie starts feeling he won’t win. So he’s got a backup plan, one he usually sticks to: stay in till the last round. That way, he’ll do a favor for Rory and the crowd.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Rory lands a few more shots, but Eddie blocks them. He clinches once, not to rest this time, but to scan the stands for Maisie again. Instead, he catches Rex’s face. Rex looks pleased, raising a hand to salute him from the tables by the ring. He seems satisfied. Eddie spots new faces next to him he now recognizes—Cork and Barney. Seeing Barney from the restaurant lifts his spirits. He wants to show him more, not just cling to the kid Rory Flint.

  The bell rings, and he doesn’t manage it. The first round’s over.

  "Good job, kid. Three more rounds. How you holding up?" Ballard splashes him with water and rubs his biceps.

  "Maisie. I don’t see her."

  "Maisie’s here, kid. I saw her." Ballard surprises him.

  "Where?" Eddie jumps up.

  "Sit down and rest!" Ballard snaps back. "You’re fighting for Theo, not Maisie. Last one more round, and I’ll point her out."

  Eddie’s already on his feet. He glances at Rory, who hasn’t come over yet, though the ref’s calling him. His dad, Sonny, is yelling and pointing at Eddie.

  Eddie’s more ready than ever.

  And he clearly catches the kid off guard. As Rory steps in, bolder this time, Eddie takes bolder steps too. While enjoying Rory’s surprised smile, he fakes a move and lands a shot to his stomach. He aims for the liver but misses. Still, Rory doubles over. While he’s bent, Eddie throws another punch, then another. Rory’s shaken.

  "Go, EDDIE!" He hears from Ballard.

  Is he winning? He swings again, but only grazes Rory’s shoulder. He looks for one more shot. Just one more, and he’ll drop him. He’s sure of it.

  He swings, Rory somehow shields himself, and from the low spot Eddie’s pinned him in, he rises with a punch.

  Everything goes black for Eddie, and the crowd’s in a frenzy. The ref starts counting, already at two. Eddie tries to open his eyes. He’s on the ground.

  "Three, four…"

  Not bad. He doesn’t remember falling—lost a few seconds. But he knows he’s got to get up. He waits a bit longer to catch his breath.

  Oddly, Ballard’s silent. He probably knows.

  "Six…"

  Eddie’s sitting up on the ring now. Rory’s retreated to his corner, celebrating.

  "Seven…"

  Eddie stands. The ref steps in and takes his gloves in his hands.

  "Look at me!"

  Eddie does.

  "We stopping?"

  Eddie pulls back. He doesn’t remember saying anything.

  The ref raises his hands toward Rory, and the kid comes back.

  "Finish him, Rory!" Eddie hears it clear this time—from his old coworker Sonny, who, by some twist of fate, is also the father of his biggest enemy tonight.

  The bell finds them in a clinch.

  "Bravo!" That’s the last thing he expects to hear from Ballard. "You landed some good shots. Just didn’t get that last one in."

  "Did he knock me out?"

  "You don’t remember, huh?" Ballard laughs. "The kid got lucky. Rare for someone to pull off a punch like that, especially when cornered. Point is, we’re heading into the third round. Want the honest truth, Eddie?" Ballard asks and keeps going. "Rex and I made a bet. I said two rounds. He thinks you’ll last all four."

  The ref calls them for the third. Eddie looks for Rex by the tables and finds him—smiling. He searches for Maisie again, remembering Ballard promised to show him where she is. It pisses him off. He’s about to turn back to his corner and ask, but it’s too late. Rory’s coming at him like he hasn’t fought yet.

  "Do what you can, kid." He says it quietly, hoping the round ends fast so he can ask Ballard about Maisie.

  He dodges all of Rory’s punches, backing off a few times against the rules—basically running from him. He just wants the round over.

  Rory gets frustrated, and the ref warns him that next time, he’ll deduct a full point. Honestly, Eddie’s not here to win anymore. He just wants to see Maisie. When he hears the ten-second signal, he takes a bold step toward Rory, tries a punch, takes one in return, and the ref steps between them.

  "To your corners, boys."

  "You cost me twenty bucks." Ballard greets him with a grin. "Didn’t see that coming."

  "Where’s Maisie?"

  "Maisie?" Ballard repeats her name while wiping him down.

  "You said you’d show me where she is."

  "Maisie’s not here, kid." Ballard speaks calmly, grabbing a second towel. "It’s a miracle there’s no blood on you. Rory’s got the lead, just so you know. If you want to beat him, you’ll have to knock him out."

  "You lied to me?" Eddie pulls away and turns on Ballard.

  "Sorry, Eddie, but it was necessary. You wouldn’t have gone out there if I’d told you the truth."

  Eddie snatches the white towel from Ballard’s hands and tosses it onto the ring.

  The ref approaches, bends down, and picks it up.

  "You giving up?"

  Ballard’s as big as he is agile when he wants to be. He yanks the towel from the ref’s hands:

  "Get lost."

  The ref raises his hands and heads back to the center.

  "Final round, gentlemen." He calls them.

  Ballard grabs Eddie’s arm and pulls him close, getting as near as possible:

  "Listen, kid. If you break down and walk away, you’ll lose more than the fight and your wife—you’ll lose your dignity. These people know you. Brantley’s not a big town, and you’re kind of a name here. Don’t go down in history as pitiful Eddie Walsh. I don’t know how far that punk Rory Flint will go in boxing—" Ballard points at him. "But I know what you’re fighting for. And it’s not the win. You’re fighting to be an example for Theo. Go out and play for him. When the bell rings, leave if you want."

  Eddie’s ticked off, and Rory’s laughing at him. Eddie figures he should be angrier. The kid probably didn’t expect old Eddie Walsh to stay standing this long.

  "Let’s wrap this up, old man, huh?" He hears from Rory. Eddie glances over his shoulder and sees Sonny. Sonny’s more pissed than he is. Last time he saw him like that was when Cork chewed him out in the kitchen.

  "BOX!"

  Eddie’s not looking for Maisie in the crowd anymore, nor straining to spot Rex. If it were up to him right now, he wouldn’t even want the money—not those fifteen grand. He just wants this over a minute sooner and never steps in a ring again.

  Rory tries a punch that lands in Eddie’s hands. Eddie steps back and does what he’s best at—two quick shots to Rory’s guard, pinning him, then a third that hits exactly where he wants.

  He knows the pain of a liver shot. It’s not usually fatal, but it takes two or three seconds to recover—seconds Rory doesn’t have.

  Maisie’s not in the hall, and Eddie’s got no time to waste. The longer he drags this out, the further she’ll slip away. He swings for Rory’s head with a half-random punch, gets lucky, and connects. The kid’s rattled, his hands dropping.

  Eddie’s heart pounds, and a fresh breeze comes from somewhere. He sees his chance.

  Eddie swings a third time. He steps back and instantly lands a fourth.

  He keeps going—fifth, sixth. He counts them in his head. He can’t see Rory anymore. Everything’s a blur. He just feels Rory’s face at the tips of his knuckles. Before he can swing again, a hand on his shoulder pulls him back. It pisses him off—he turns and swings, but it’s Ballard.

  Behind Ballard are Rex and Barney. Big chef Cork’s climbed into the ring too.

  "It’s over, Eddie. It’s done." Ballard’s talking, but Eddie doesn’t hear him.

  He scans the stands for Maisie again, but she’s not there. And in the stands, the five hundred people are screaming like five thousand.

  "You bastard, you won…" Barney hugs him. He smells like cooking and reminds Eddie of the kitchen.

  Eddie’s return there is on hold for now.