Uncaged Love Read Online Free Page B

to open the door wide. It’s chaos inside, a tangle of bands, weights, and balls. High on the walls are a couple posters of boxing matches, curled and yellowing. One of the men looks familiar, so I step a little closer. Sure enough, The Cure McClure, Colt’s father, is posing on one of them. The poster is black and white except for his bright red gloves. The match was 1983. I don’t know where The Cure was in his career then, or if Colt had even been born yet. Probably not. He doesn’t look over thirty.
    It can’t be easy having a father so famous. I suddenly wonder if Colt has been successful at all. I don’t have a clue what MMA entails, how different it is from boxing. I wonder if going that direction was a good choice for Colt or if he is just defying his dad.
    I glance around, but I don’t see any T-shirts or boxes that might hold them. They have to be in the office.
    The gym is pretty quiet as I tiptoe over to Buster’s door. I stand beside it, trying to listen inside. I’m about to knock when I hear Colt’s voice.
    And he’s yelling.

Chapter 5
    I can’t imagine how intimidating Colt must be when he’s pissed off. I lean closer to the door of Buster’s office.
    Colt’s voice makes the wood vibrate. “Don’t do me any favors, Buster. I’m not exactly here by choice.”
    “Colt, I’m the one stuck in the awkward position.”
    “Then say no. Tell him to shove it.”
    “We’ve already started construction.”
    “This is his idiot ego, not mine.”
    “Your dad has a lot of pull around here.”
    “Not with me.”
    The door handle starts to turn, so I bolt back to the front counter. My back is to the hallway as Colt storms out, but I can hear his angry footsteps. He doesn’t pause but crosses to the other side and through a door that I assume is the men’s locker room.
    Thankfully he didn’t see this stupid shirt on me. Maybe Buster will come out now, and I can ask him for another one. I’ve spent three years avoiding attention and now every inch of me is screaming, “Look at these!”
    I take my time breaking apart the boxes I’ve emptied and stacking them against the wall. But Buster never appears. After the argument, I’m not sure I want to knock on his door to talk about my shirt problem.
    I might as well finish this work. I’m down to the last package. I know those are going to be big, heavy weights. I sigh and open the last box. Forty pounds. Damn. I grasp the edge of the disc, bending over the box.
    “Hey, bend your knees first.” The girl from the weight room comes up. “You’re going to hurt your back.”
    She squats down. “Lift with your legs to let it rest on your chest.”
    I hold on to the bag and roll it into my body. With the bulk of the weight lying against me, it’s much easier to manage. “Thanks,” I say.
    “You’re going to hurt tomorrow if you’re not used to lifting.” She pulls the next forty out. “I’ll take this one.”
    She leads the way to the weight room, her high ponytail swinging.
    We dump the forties at the end of the line of sandbags. She stretches out a hand. “I’m Lani. I’m kinda new here.”
    I shake it. “Jo. I just started.”
    “Glad to see more girls around.” She heads back to the doorway. “I was about to head out, but do you want help with those?”
    I don’t think Buster would like me asking his customers to do my work. “I’ve got it. Thanks for the tip.”
    She nods and turns away. The room is empty for the moment, so I feel comfortable looking around. The weights are scattered everywhere. I pick up the smaller dumbbells and arrange them on a set of shelves.
    Buster is back in the doorway when I look up. “A self-starter,” he says. “I like that.” He glances at my shirt. “Good fit. I’ll dig out another tomorrow so you’ll have a couple.”
    I groan inside. So I will have to wear this every day. I can’t bring myself to thank him.
    “I’ve still got a few more sandbags to stack,” I say.
    He nods. “After