Iz’s brows narrow just a little. “You haven’t asked? That was ages ago.”
“No, I asked.” I chuckle. “But now I’m asking someone else, since everyone knows Bubbles is the ultimate martyr and would never tell me if it’s bothering her.”
Iz smiles and acknowledges my words with a gentle nod. “She’s fine. Surgery went well, recovery was fast and easy, but that might’ve had something to do with both of my children being up in her space around the clock. My daughter nursed her, my son force fed her and made her rest.”
“And now?”
“Now, apart from a cool new scar, she seems to be good as new. Her physical therapist reports that everything is fine, and Soph has her dancing tonight, which is a good sign. Soph would never make her dance if she was still sore, so the fact she is, is another tick to say Quinn’s doing better.”
“Good.” I relax back, like hearing what my sister has been telling me for months from someone else has finally set me at ease. “I’m glad.”
“You worry too much.” Iz reaches up and pats my shoulder. “Now tell me about you.”
I bark out a laugh and step to the side when more folks stream through the door and go in search of their seats.
“Where have you been?” she prompts. “What have you been doing? With whom have you been doing it? Whose mother do I have to beat up?”
“Nowhere,” I laugh. “Nothing. No one. And don’t beat anyone up on my behalf. Come on.” I loop my arm around hers, and start moving out of the way of the growing crowd. “How’s Jamie been?”
She smiles. “He’s finally happy, Will. He finally found his girl, he seems to have convinced her to stay, and she looks fairly inclined to make him happy in return.” She looks up into my eyes and studies me for a moment. “As a parent, all we truly want is for our children to be okay, healthy, content. Your sister isn’t your child. But we both know you raised her from the day she was born, so I know you understand me when I say we just want them to be happy.”
I nod and slow as we approach a group of Kincaids.
They’re easy to spot, easy to recognize, even after a year of separation. But before we get to them, Iz stops us, and reaches up to pat my shirt collar down. “My son is happy, Will. And it’s because of the woman you raised.” Then she steps up onto her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you for doing such an amazing job.”
“You’re getting all emotional on me, Mrs. Kincaid.”
She steps back to flat feet and snickers. “It’s been a year; I’ve missed you. I’m allowed to be emotional.”
“Will!” The first to break away from the pack just has to be Jamie fucking Kincaid.
I somehow found myself a brother, a guy I genuinely love and care about. But at the same time, I hate his fucking guts.
“Holy shit,” he hoots. “I was hoping the rumors weren’t a lie.” As soon as his mother steps aside, Jamie moves in and pulls me into a rough hug. “Jesus, man. You got bigger.”
“Why is everyone so obsessed with my body?” I step out of our hug, and look the guy up and down. “You look good.”
“I feel good. And the fact you grew is a good sign. Means you haven’t gone hungry, and you’ve had time to work out properly.” He grins and steps back as the rest of his family crowd around us. “I’ve worried about you.”
“I had myself under control.”
I smile when Jamie’s father steps up and shakes my hand. Then accept a hug when Evelyn Kincaid steps forward with a fucking child on her hip. Not a baby, and not even a toddler, but a full grown ten-year-old.
“No way is this the baby that was in your belly a year ago.”
The curly-haired fighter-mom steps back and tickles under her son’s chin. “Will, meet Wes. Can you believe he turns one this month?”
“Ah, nope,” I laugh. “Can’t say I believe you. He’s massive. What the hell do you feed him?”
“The souls of shitty fighters who can’t take instruction from a woman, of course.”
“That’ll do it. Ben here?”
“Yeah.” She adjusts the baby-man on her hip and indicates toward the stage. “He’s backstage with Bean and Mac for a sec, but he’ll be out before the curtains come up. It’s good to see you back, Will.” She grins and studies me; not like how a woman might study a man, but how a fighter studies another fighter. “I didn’t get your forms for the tournament this year.”
I snort. “You checked?”
“Of course. Although, it’s still early, and Stacked Deck is months away, so I’m going to assume the form is on the way, and I won’t have to lay you out for being a wuss. It would be embarrassing to be as big as you are, only to have a chick put you to sleep.”
“Humiliating,” I concede with a twitching smile.
“So you’re gonna fight,” she presses. “You’re back, and you have access to my gym, free and clear. That means you have no excuses.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I turn to find another familiar face to my left. I smile and extend a hand, my body moving on autopilot, but then my brain catches up, and I whip my hand back before he can take it.
“Reid Baker?” Then I shoot my gaze around the room. “Where’s your brother?”
“Stand down.” Evie places her hand on my shoulder and pulls me back to flat feet. Because maybe my fighter instincts are too well honed, and maybe I popped to the balls of my feet without thought, balled my fists without thought, prepared to lay a Baker out without thought. “Kyle Baker’s still a pussy,” she explains, “but Reid is our friend, so chill out.”
“Friend?” I ignore the heavyweight fighter and scowl in Evie’s direction. “Friend? Did they remove your brain when they removed the baby? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don’t condone my brother’s bullshit behavior.” Reid grabs my shoulder and pulls me around to face him. “Kyle and I…” He shakes his head. “It’s a shame he’s not who I thought he was when I was a kid. Every little brother worships the oldest, it’s the way it’s supposed to be, the way it’s always gonna be. And because of that hero worship, sometimes we brush off shitty behavior as funny, or daring, or warranted. We justify things and take our family’s side because that’s what we’re told to do.”
“Didn’t grow your own set of balls?” I step closer to the guy whose brother mentioned opening my sister’s legs. To the guy whose brother would have used, abused, and tossed a minor’s body into the trash if no one was around to keep him in check. “Kyle Baker is a fucking poison, Reid. And that shit tends to run in the blood.”
“Not my blood,” he declares solemnly. “I swear. My brother did a lot of shitty things to this family, and for that, I’m sorry. I did shitty things to some members of this family,” he glances to my right, to Evie, then back into my eyes, “and for that, I’m sorry. But I’ve stuck around, and I’ve proven to them that I’m not like Kyle.”
“You live here now?” I look to Iz Kincaid and remember back, then I look to Reid and have to control my urge to slam his face against the back of a seat. “Kyle had compromising photos taken of their daughter, and then he delivered them in a really damaging fucking way. You’re telling me they don’t wanna wring your neck every single day?”