Fighter

by Katie Cross

  By the time we finished, I felt surprisingly more confident. Benjamin moved fast as lightning, but treated me like a piece of delicate china. He never once jostled too hard or touched me without asking. At least I'd had a chance to practice the moves, and I made a mental note to buy a lanyard for my keys. Painful weapon, indeed.

  “You got this.” He nodded once as the lesson faded to an end. “Really. You have natural confidence. Just let it show more and stay aware.”

  No, don't let me go! my heart cried. Keep me locked in those arms forever!

  “Thanks,” I said instead. “I feel like dinner isn't enough for taking up an extra hour of your time, especially so late. Can I do anything else? I mean, you potentially saved my life tonight.”

  He waved that off. “I'm glad to help. And if you ever need anything else, just let me know. Hand me your phone? I'll put my number in.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded again.

  “Ah . . . well. Thanks.”

  With a hesitation I couldn't explain, but probably had something to do with the child under the desk, I handed the phone over. Such an offer felt like an egg about to hatch. Trembling, fragile, and quaking in my hands, I wasn't sure what would come of it. Could be beautiful, could be terrible, but the gamble was half the fun.

  Just being a gentleman, I told myself to talk down the excited squeal. Benjamin. Mercedy. In. My. Phone.

  Seconds later, he returned my cell, and I glanced down to see Benjamin Mercedy as a new contact. Would he do that for any woman that had clearly just been nailed by someone in the face?

  Definitely.

  He was that kind of guy.

  The cold reality of that calmed the raging, giggly shrew I'd allowed out of her cage for too long.

  “Well.” I cleared my throat. “Thanks again. The same goes for you if you ever need anything. Not that you'd need saving on a dark night. But, you know, I do pretty good meals.”

  He cracked a pity smile. “Night, Sera. Oh, and thank you for dinner.”

  “Anytime.”

  The sound of my name off his lips gave me a delicious shudder that was difficult to hide, so I turned away. As I headed for the door, the glare of a screen under the desk had faded, and I thought I heard a gentle, quiet snore.

  4

  Benjamin

  “She's been fantastic, as always.”

  Bethany ran her head over Ava's hair. Ava ignored me as she walked past me to go around the desk, a tablet already in her hand. Behind me, three men stood on the mat. One of them barked out instructions while the other two grappled. Ava ignored them, slipped around the desk, and crawled underneath.

  “Thanks,” I said with a sigh. “I appreciate you bringing her by and feeding her dinner.”

  “We're always happy to help. I think she may be a bit bored at our place, so I'll try to find her some new games.”

  “I'm so grateful for all you've done.”

  Bethany's brow wrinkled. “She'll come around, Ben. You're a single dad, you're doing the best you can. She's . . . having a tough time after her Mom died.”

  Bethany bounced my nephew, Shane, on her hip. He drooled a soggy grin at me. Two teeth jutted out of his bottom jaw as he smiled, gnawing on a toy. The first time I met her was when I drove her brother’s bike to the Frolicking Moose and watched my brother propose filtered through my mind. How far they’d come. Now, Bethany wore a pair of heels and bright lipstick, beautifully navigating her upscale real estate job with the real-life turmoil of parenting.

  “It's been a year since she died,” I said quietly. “I just . . .”

  “Yeah, and Ava’s six. It's not something you just get over. You know that as well as anyone, and you weren't six when your Dad died. “

  Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair, unable to fight with that. Yes, I knew how to lose a parent, but not at six. Ava never spoke about Sadie or what life was like with her. Rarely spoke at all, really.

  Was I just being impatient? Did time really heal all wounds? Would Ava recover? Maybe Ava was like her Mom: destined to hate me forever.

  “She's lucky to have you,” Bethany said as if she could read my mind. She put a hand on my arm, and the warm touch was soothing. I didn't agree with her, mostly because I thought it was all a contrived crock of crap. I sucked as a father. Ava had big emotions that I didn't know how to deal with, loved nail polish, and the best I could do with all that hair that she wouldn't let me cut was a braid and a ponytail.

  Yeah, I loved Ava. I was happy to provide a roof over her head. But she didn't love me, and sometimes that really sucked.

  “Thanks again,” I said, done with this topic.

  Bethany opened her mouth to say something, decided against it, and smiled half-heartedly instead. Then, clearly on an impulse, she leaned forward and gave me a quick hug. For a moment, I melted into the warmth. It had been a long time since anyone had touched me. Then again, I rarely touched anyone else, so maybe it was my own damn fault.

  Like many things.

  “Hang in there, Ben. You're doing a great job.”

  With another little wave, she disappeared out the door with a quick shout. “Love you too, Ava!”

  No sound issued from under the desk. I headed around it and crouched down to find her on her tablet. When my shadow darkened her little hovel, she looked over at me with a teenager’s annoyance. She'd been like that at three, but I'd been more of a novelty then. A passerby that came when he could and her Mom probably talked smack about all the time. She'd tolerated me then because I brought her gifts and we did fun things together whenever Sadie allowed it, which wasn't often.

  Now she had no choice but to endure me.

  “Hey,” I said, and thought of reaching out to push her hair out of her eyes, but she was prickly as a cactus. “How was school?”

  “Fine.”

  “Any homework?”

  She turned back to her tablet. “Nope.”

  “What did you have for lunch?”

  “Hamburger.”

  “Was it good?”

  She shrugged and tapped on the screen. Well, that was scraping the bottom of the barrel, wasn't it? Talking to my daughter about school lunch. I tugged on her headphones cord when she didn't look back at me, and her eyes turned back to me with a silent what?

  “We'll go home earlier tonight, all right? You need more sleep.”

  Her teacher had called me about her sleepiness in class and plummeting grades again, last night during the lesson with Serafina. As if we hadn't already talked about it and discussed the very not-ideal circumstances of single parenting. Unfortunately, I had an idea that her teacher, a single woman, just liked to talk and tried to find excuses to get on the phone with me, a single man with more money than Pineville had seen in a while. No teacher should call at 9:30 at night.

  “Okay.” Her expression brightened slightly. “Can we have that biscuit stuff for dinner again?”

  “The chicken thing?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes widened. “It was so good.”

  “I'll try to figure out how she made it.”

  “Who made it?”

  “Serafina.”

  She seemed to ponder that for a minute, then said, “I like that name. It's pretty.”

  Well, that was a first. Didn't know she was capable of liking anything. “We'll try to make it together?” I asked.

  Ava's nose wrinkled. “Nevermind.”

  “Listen, hater,” I said, attempting some levity, “I'm great at cooking.”

  Her expression suggested otherwise, and a shout from the gym called me away. “Good talk,” I said and patted the blow-up mattress she'd thrown herself onto, but she'd already turned back to her screen. Maybe the tablet was the issue. It had been loaded full enough when she came, as if Sadie let her be on it all the time. Restricting her to an hour of use a day certainly hadn't helped our relationship.

  With a sigh, I let myself get drawn back into the new trainee who had just moved here for the next three month
s. Work called, and so did the oblivion that followed a rigorous mat routine.

  While walking past the big, open wall of windows that faced Main Street—technically the only road in Pineville except for neighborhoods, and it didn't even have a stoplight—I glanced across the street to the Diner. Serafina stood out there, a dirty black apron across her rounded hips. Her hair trailed out on her back behind a hat, and she laughed, eyes bright, while talking on the phone. Did she work in the evenings? Knowing her, she went back to work to visit a friend or something.

  Last night recalled into my head. Her soft body in my arms. The way she seemed so trusting. Occasionally distracted. Confident, but quiet. Her lip had healed somewhat but still seemed a bit sore. It still puzzled me. I thought she might tell me more about how she got a fat lip during the lesson, but nothing had come out.

  Brother, maybe?

  Friend?

  I turned away, already unable to get her off my mind. Why it mattered, I didn't know. With great effort, I forced myself to focus on the mat.

  The last complication I needed in my life was another woman.

  The clock over the desk glared at me several hours later.

  9:30.

  So much for that early escape.

  With a sigh, I shoved away from the paperwork my accountant, Stella Marie, had requested from me. She lived up the canyon with her boyfriend Mark and had to finagle some final paperwork back together to get our payroll running. I'd put it off too long already to accommodate the new trainee.

  My eyes were bleary as I rubbed them. Ava had fallen asleep a few hours ago, or else I would have left early. Seemed stupid to wake her up too soon because then she'd be awake for hours, singing in her bed, banging her feet against the wall. I could crash here. We had a few blankets in the back.

  Or maybe I just didn't want to go back to that stupid, empty, still-dirty house. I hated that house. The ringing hollow of it. It felt like a lifeless tomb. It sucked my time, energy, and mental capacity after an already long day at work, and it never felt like home.

  Frustrated, I shook my head and straightened up just as a little tap tap tap came from the side doors. My head lifted, startled, to see a head of brown hair standing outside. Three seconds passed before I comprehended that it was Serafina. She'd come here in the dark.

  In a few steps, I'd crossed the space and yanked the door open.

  “Come in,” I said. “What are you doing here? It's late.”

  She held another pan in her hands, and I realized, stupidly, that I hadn't even thought of cleaning and returning the other one. We'd finished it off for breakfast this morning.

  “Hey.” She smiled wide, but there was a hesitant tint now that I'd barked at her. “I ended up with some leftovers. Thought I'd bring them by. They're a bit more kid-friendly than the other one.”

  “Oh.”

  Her vague non-mention of Ava startled me so that I just stared at her, holding out a dish, before my mind caught up. Had I mentioned Ava to her? No. Ava had been asleep last night. Hadn't she?

  “Right,” she whispered and smiled wider. I realized I'd been standing there an awkward amount of time. Color swept the tops of her cheekbones. “I'll just . . . I'll just put this over there.”

  My brain caught up with my mouth then. “Thank you. I'm sorry, it just took me by surprise. I . . .”

  “It's good. No worries.” She set the dish down. “Spaghetti with little meatballs, and my secret is brown sugar in the marinara. Not much.” She held up a hand as if I'd protested. “I get that you 'fit' types are kind of above sugar, but you will thank me for this one.”

  Her air quotations made me crack a pathetic smile. Totally lost, I ran a hand over my head and just said, “Thank you. Seriously. The chicken thing was delicious.”

  “It's the carrots,” she said with a funny self-assurance. “And the peas. They're sweet veggies. See? Sugar. Transforms stuff, especially with kids. Anyway, I included some chocolate chip cookies. I'm not a heavy-on-the-chocolate-chips kind of girl because they take over the cookies, but whatever. They're cookies.”

  As if I'd protested again.

  “At any rate,” she continued, “both of you should love them and carb up tomorrow. Enjoy!”

  Both of you should love them rang through my mind. How did she know? She turned around to leave, and I almost reached out for her but stopped at the last minute. A hint of something both feminine and heady wafted behind her that I couldn't place. Citrus? No. Coconut.

  “How are things?” I asked instead. “Are they okay?”

  Should I just ask who smacked her across the face and if they were going to do it again? I hated insinuations, but I also didn't know what to do with this woman. Like trying to capture moonlight in my hands. I felt this way with Ava all the time. Totally taken aback and equally tongue-tied. Put me on a mat and I could beat just about anyone. But these girls gave me twenty thumbs.

  And those tight black pants she wore again weren't helping matters.

  She paused at the door, pasted on a smile, and said over her shoulder, “Great! See you later!”

  Just like that, she disappeared back outside. Before I could follow her out and offer her a ride home, Ava woke up crying. By the time I woke her from her bad dream and had her calmed down, Serafina had gone.

  5

  Serafina

  “Y-your brother just called again,” Dagny said. “N-n-not sure what he w-wanted.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Thanks.”

  Dagny paused at the edge of the swinging door, where she always peeked out to see who had come in and who she had to prepare herself to talk to. The comforting bustle of the Diner rang in the air behind us. Better than a movie soundtrack some days. Behind me, the smell of freshly grilled chicken wafted by.

  “W-w-why do the attractive ones always have to be married?” Dagny murmured. “Meanwhile, all these other j-jerks are trying to grab my hips and slap my rear, but they have like three t-t-teeth and hair as oily as my lawn m-mower. I h-hate waitressing.”

  Dagny leaned against the wall and peered out on the main area through slits in the swinging wooden doors. Her green eyes were so light they were almost pastel. She was lovely, but quiet, and reserved because of a childhood stutter. Working at the Diner was an active attempt to fight through her social anxiety, and I loved her for her courage every day.

  “Who are you creeping on?” I asked, dumping some ice into a cup.

  “M-maverick. Oh, Benjamin just walked in too.”

  My heart seized. First, what? Benjamin had actually taken time off of work to go somewhere else? That rarely happened at this time of day. Second, my hair looked terrible today. I hadn't washed it in seven days. My record was fourteen, but that had been in the middle of France, and it needed some help. A salon had dolled me right up after that.

  “Where is he sitting?” I asked and slipped to her side. Wasted effort when the door swung open, thankfully not revealing us. Frantic, I yanked my hair out of my face so it rested on my shoulders in a hasty ponytail that fluffed out all over the place.

  “Y-your table,” she grumbled. “They always sit at your t-t-table.”

  I screeched under my breath, then calmed. No, I couldn't do this. A plethora of boyfriends in my past had started this exact way. Butterflies, lonely longing, and a hint of them needing saving. No boyfriends. I had to focus on Talmage. Geez, I still had places to travel that I hadn't even visited yet.

  But then . . . why not?

  There was something magical about the start of a romance. Besides, none of the other boyfriends had been Benjamin. In fact, some of the butterflies in my past had been conjured out of loneliness and desperation.

  After-the-fact butterflies don't count. This guy caused the real-deal butterflies.

  With that reality, I could totally do this again. Falling hard was a heady feeling in the beginning. The ending sucked, but I hadn't had butterflies like this ever.

  Besides, Benjamin was the safest bet I'd ever hav
e a crush on. That man loved nothing but the mat and hopefully whatever child lurked under his desk at night. Nah, he'd be nothing but an innocent flirtation.

  Like a stalking panther to keep my eyes on and enjoy their power.

  Besides, he'd looked so lost last night when I brought the food over. Whatever soul lurked beneath all that brawn was broken. I felt for him. Mom would make him a pie and pat his arm without a word and probably heal half the mistakes of his past with one bite of her crumbly crust.

  I needed that pie recipe.

  “Wish me luck,” I murmured.

  “G-g-get his num-m-mber,” Dagny whispered conspiratorially, her hair pulled away from her eyes with a few expertly-placed pens. Her eyes widened. “I d-dare you.”

  I smirked, said, “Already have it,” and flounced out.

  After checking on an older couple in a back booth, I pulled my writing pad out and approached. Thankfully, Maverick sat in the chair facing me, though I had little doubt that Benjamin knew I came up behind him. He didn't seem like the type to let his guard down, even at the Diner.

  Maverick grinned as I approached. The two were clearly brothers, but Maverick had a softer expression. Benjamin appeared to be chiseled from stone, with sharper angles. The man needed a lighthearted conversation or a walloping kiss. I'd be game for both.

  “Hey Mav,” I cried. “My favorite Mercedy.”

  He laughed. Ben scowled.

  “Just kidding,” I sang as I pulled menus from my pocket and handed them over. “It's great to see you too, Ben. How was the spaghetti?”

  “Amazing, thank you again.”

  He lifted two clean, empty containers from the seat next to him. How could returning plastic dishes cause a flutter in my chest? No, not the dishes. He'd remembered and brought them back. Swoonworthy, right there. No finer man than the one that brings your dishes back, I imagined Mom saying. She'd be halfway in love with him.