Blue Heron [2] The Perfect Match by Kristan Higgins

Author:Kristan Higgins [Higgins, Kristan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance
ISBN: 9780373778195
Amazon: 0373778198
Publisher: Harlequin HQN
Published: 2013-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“THAT’S IT, CHARLIE. Get that hand up, mate.” Tom stood behind the heavy bag, trying not to wince. Charlie’s jab was pathetic. “Put your shoulder into it, remember?”

“I’m trying!” He wasn’t, that was the problem.

“Good! Now your hook. Side of the bag, come on. Get that hand up.” Charlie flailed listlessly, his so-called hook weak and off-center. “Brilliant! So how’s school these days?” Anyone beat you up recently?

No answer.

One would imagine that if Charlie were being bullied, he’d be interested in learning to fight. Perhaps it was a positive sign that he didn’t seem to care about these lessons.

The gym door opened, and Charlie threw himself into the effort, punching like a little dervish, his voluminous T-shirt flopping around him like sweaty wings. The lad glanced at the door—not Abby Vanderbeek. His arms dropped to his sides.

“Hands up,” Tom said, reaching out to tap the lad on the side of the head to demonstrate that an opponent could find an opening.

“Don’t touch me,” Charlie muttered, returning to his lethargic punches.

“There’s a tournament coming up,” Tom said, more to make conversation than because he thought Charlie would actually be interested. “Ages fourteen and up, division by weight. You could enter. You’re getting really good.” A lie, of course.

The bell rang, and without a word, Charlie slouched away. Lesson over, apparently.

Furthermore, the kid wouldn’t shower at the gym, so he rather reeked on the short drive back to the Kellogg house, ignoring Tom completely, staring out the window.

It was bloody amazing, Tom thought as they pulled onto Apple Blossom Drive, how long the kid could hold a grudge. Even if Charlie was correct in blaming Tom for Melissa’s death, when would Tom be forgiven? He wasn’t the one behind the wheel of the car that’d struck Melissa. He wasn’t the one who told Melissa to text and cross a busy intersection at the same time. He’d rewritten his life these past few years for Charlie, and the little bugger wouldn’t give him the time of day.

He loved Charlie. He hated Charlie. He was afraid for Charlie. Every day, there was another tragic story of a teen suicide. Those faces on the news—so young, so doomed—made a cold sweat break out on Tom’s back.

He pulled up in front of the Kelloggs’ house. “See you soon, mate,” he said.

Surprisingly, Charlie didn’t move. “Is anyone else doing that tournament?” he asked, not looking at Tom.

“Um, no, not that I know of.” Anyone else would probably mean Abby Vanderbeek. “I’ll mention it on Tuesday at the self-defense class.” He paused. “Are you interested?”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Great! That’s brilliant.” So maybe boxing was a way to bond. Or impress girls. Hell. That’s why Tom started. Either way, it was a step in the right direction.

“I can look into it for you,” he said. “I’d need permission from your grandparents.”

Another shrug.

“Right. Well, I’ll walk you to the door and mention it, shall I?”

Janice greeted him with her usual once-over. “Hello there, Tom,” she said to his crotch.

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