He wanted Libby so badly he’d forgotten that the entire reason for coming to Denver was to train with Augie to win—to beat the Snake and claim the heavyweight champion title.
With the cover of Sebastian by his side, their friends gathered around them. He could see it in their faces. Everyone wanted to ask about what happened, but no one said a word. With Sebastian beaming like he’d won the birthday lottery, the adults ignored the elephant in the room, welcoming them back and peppering them with questions about Moloka’i. He stood there like a giant oak weathering the storm when Aug caught his eye. The man had stood a few steps back as a flicker of disappointment registered on his trainer’s face.
“Can we sing Happy Birthday to Sebastian, so we can eat the cake?” Phoebe asked, eyeing the sugary confection on the table next to the gifts.
“My dad and I made a chocolate cake with donkey ears,” Oscar chimed.
“Can we, Dad?” Sebastian asked, hopping around.
“Yeah, absolutely,” he said, scarcely there. It took every ounce of energy to muster the ghost of a grin. As much as he wanted to celebrate, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment Silas landed his first punch.
Like a zombie, he sang along with the group. He stood by as Libby gave the lad the sketch of Moloka’i, then helped Sebastian put the leis on Plum and Beefcake. He made small talk with his granny, Bob, and Maud. Rowen, Mitch, and Landon had gone on about how the group should go on a tropical holiday together. He nodded, and he even chimed in once or twice, but none of it seemed real, or perhaps it seemed too real. He’d catch a glimpse of Libby, and his heart would jump into his throat. He barely knew up from down. When he finally had a second alone, Aug’s voice cut through the buzz of sounds.
“Silas faked left, then went in on the right. We’ve watched the tapes. That’s his go-to.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been playing it out in my head.”
Aug crossed his arms. “You should eat the rest of your cake, mate. You’ve been holding that plate for an hour.”
He checked his watch. How had an hour passed?
He surveyed the barn and spied Libby standing with Penny, Charlotte, and Harper while his sisters and his granny chatted at a card table with Luanne, Bob, and Maud.
He couldn’t even look at Granny Fin.
“We have to go, Aug,” he said, his voice a scrape of a sound.
“I know what you’re thinking, lad. You’ve got to stop that right now,” Aug murmured, taking his toothpick from between his lips and slipping it into his pocket.
“I should be in the gym—your gym in Denver with no distractions, sleeping on the cot in the back, eating and breathing the basics. Doing exactly what made me a champion.”
“Dad!” Sebastian called, running up to him. The boy held a blindfold and a paper donkey tail in his hands. “Do you want to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey with us?”
Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
At the mention of the game, Silas’s sneering, smug face flashed before his eyes.
He kneeled. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. You see, Aug and I need to go.”
Confusion marred his son’s expression. “Where do you have to go with Augie?”
Every pair of eyes in the barn bore into him. He could feel their disappointment, but the weight of judgment didn’t hold a candle to the crushing doubt closing in on him from all sides.
“I need to leave to train with Aug. You know how important this fight is, right, mate? It’s less than a week away. You understand that your mum would want me to win, so I need to make sure I do everything I can.”
“Do you want to do the Chicken Dance before you go? We did it at camp. It’s loads of fun,” the boy offered, trying to brighten his spirits.
His son so desperately wanted him to be happy. And he would be—after he won.
He kept his emotions in check. “No, Sebastian, I’m sorry, lad. I can’t.”
“Yeah, all right,” the boy said, putting on a brave face. “But you haven’t opened your present yet. The one I have for you. I wrapped it myself.”
“It’s not my birthday, Sebastian.”
The lad’s smile returned. “I know, but I made it for you, and I finished it at camp while you and Mibby were gone.”
It would have been easier if the boy had cried or thrown a fit. His kindness was like a knife twisting in his heart. He’d be the father Sebastian deserved—the man Mere sacrificed for him to be—after the fight.
After the fight.
“How about you save it for me? You could give it to me as a present for winning. We can do the Chicken Dance, too,” he said, the words tasting more like defeat than victory.
“But you might want the present now because—” the boy began, but he cut him off. He could take it.
“I promise, Sebastian, I’ll open it right after I win. I need to go, but believe me when I tell you, I promise I’ll never have to leave another one of your parties early again. This is a special situation.”
Sebastian smiled up at him with those aquamarine eyes, Meredith’s eyes, welling with adoration. “Dad, don’t feel bad. I’m happy you made it to my donkey party. Remember, last year you couldn’t come to my birthday, and the year before that, you were training, too.”
He nodded, emotion thickening in his throat. He’d do better. He would, right?
“I appreciate your understanding, lad.” He stood, hating himself, but not knowing what else to do.
“Take Mum with you,” the boy said, reaching into his pocket and removing the watch. “And Libby’s special gemstone, too. You can rub it before bed when you think about a time when you were truly happy,” he added, placing the items onto his palm.
How much more could he take?
“Thank you.” Willing his hand not to shake, he unzipped his pocket, slid the items inside, then felt the box. He looked up and caught Libby’s eye. The heartbreak in her gaze was another twist of the knife in his heart.
This isn’t what he wanted. But it was what he had to do.
He turned to go, but Sebastian tugged on his hoodie’s sleeve.
“Isn’t Mibby going with you? She’s your trainer, too. And don’t you need Beefcake? He’s your running buddy.”
What was he supposed to say?
“I’ll get that sorted. Join your friends and your aunties. It looks like they’re ready to play,” he said instead of answering.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Aug asked.
“Yeah,” he answered, then peered at Libby. Her friends had encircled her and delivered a round of eye daggers his way.
“I’m going to talk to Luanne, then I’ll meet you at my car,” Augie said, sliding the toothpick back in place.
Raz steadied himself. After he won, he’d fix everything. He’d do better. He’d be better.
“Libby, can I speak with you for a minute—outside?”
For what felt like the millionth time, all eyes were on him as he gestured toward the path. The rain had let up some, but it was still coming down in a slight drizzle. The green of the mountain looked brighter, like the earth was ready to burst at the seams, or maybe that was him, coming apart.
She stopped a few paces from the barn then turned on her heel, amber eyes blazing. “I hope you’re not about to make me a promise.”