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Kellen hadn’t had a true family in over eight years. When my parents took an interest in him and started inviting him to stay for dinner after meetings with my dad, he didn’t hesitate. He also started spending time at the house with me, tutoring me in French, math, science – you name it. He was a great teacher, making those tedious subjects relatable for me for the first time in my life. I know he did it because he wanted to help me out, but I think he also offered to tutor me as a way of paying dad back for what he’d done for him and his case. For trusting him and taking him into his home.
    Even after his case closed and he was working on his community service, he was a constant presence in our home as he tutored me almost every night. Even on nights when he wasn’t helping me, he was often there purely on invitation or habit. He easily won my mom over with his consideration and good manners, my dad with his intelligence and drive, my sister with his body and bad boy reputation. And me? Well, I was sold by his smile. Kellen was a lot of great things, but the one that mattered to me most was that he made me laugh.
    “We don’t know that they’ll break up,” mom argued, sounding like she was trying to convince herself.
    Dad quirked a skeptical eyebrow at her.
    “What?”
    “Have you met Laney?” I asked, saying what we were all thinking. “She tears through guys.”
    “She’s not exactly a one man kind of woman,” dad agreed.
    Mom looked sharply at the two of us. “What exactly are you two saying?”
    “We’re not calling her what you think we are, honey.”
    “I am,” I said. “And it rhymes with door.”
    “Jenna!” mom scolded.
    “What? I didn’t say it.”
    She pointed a warning finger at me. “Thin ice. Do your homework.”
    “I don’t have any. Besides, it’s not only Laney. Kellen isn’t exactly big on dating either.”
    “He’s never had a steady girlfriend,” mom said, thinking.
    Dad shook his head. “He doesn’t like people getting too close. I think he’s embarrassed by his home life.”
    “He’s not embarrassed,” I corrected him. “He doesn’t want people feeling sorry for him. He hates pity and girls hear about his life and suddenly they’re all like, ‘You poor thing. I’m so sorry.’ and he hates that.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “’Cause he told me.”
    “He tells you a lot, doesn’t he?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Yeah. I guess. We’re friends.”
    The room was quiet all of the sudden. When I looked up, I found mom watching me.
    “So what do I tell him?” dad asked her.
    She watched me for a second longer before she pinched her lips together in thought. Eventually she grinned affectionately. “I can’t believe he asked you permission.”
    Dad grinned as well. “He’s a damn good kid.”
    “Language,” she scolded halfheartedly. Then she shook her head. “If only he’d quit with the fighting.”
    “It’s not fighting,” I corrected her. “It’s boxing. It’s a sport. And he’s damn good at it.”
    “Grounded.”
    Shit.
     
    ***
     
    The first thing I noticed was that the place wreaked of sweat. It was a gym so, duh, but still. I wasn’t used to it. Even the locker rooms at school didn’t smell like this, but then again I’d never been in the boy’s locker room. Maybe this was what it smelled like. Maybe this gym was basically one huge boy’s locker room.
    It definitely looked like it. There were banners hanging from the ceiling with logos for Everlast, USA Boxing and a bunch of different championships with years and winner’s names under them. Also hanging from the open rafters were punching bags. Tons of them all mismatched and spread across the room hovering over red, blue and black mats. The walls were covered in posters for fights from ten and twenty years ago peppered with newer names that rung a bell with me. Holyfield, Ali, Tyson. Foreman. That one made me smile.
    “You can never tell your mom you were here,”