A Fighting Chance Read Online Free

tonight, okay? No showing off.”
    Perry announced that he was no longer accepting bets, and as the mob around him cleared, I held my breath and straightened my shoulders. Henry was there, graying black hair slicked back, wearing a suit too big to really be his, and his wedding ring was probably already in his back pocket. My father cast smiles at as many women as he could, while moving through the crowd.
    He had always been able to make people look, wonder, and care. He could keep younger guys riveted with stories from his time growing up in Glory, over beers at Murphy’s. And have high school girls blushing in whispered conversations after he offered them the cigarettes they couldn’t buy themselves. There was just this charismatic air about him. Mom never explained the details of their relationship to me. I always thought she was too embarrassed to admit that she had fallen for the mystique of Henry Chance, too.
    Every day, from the moment my mother told me he was my father I wanted to hate him more than I’d wanted to do anything else in my life, especially because it seemed like he worked so hard to not forge a connection with me. Drew always said that there was no difference between love and hate—you dedicated the same amount of energy to both—but hate filled you with venom as a consequence. Well, I’d rather be poisonous than what I really was.
    When Henry and I made eye contact, the moment he nodded and I nodded back, a feeling of relief washed over me. But as always, I got angry with myself for liking his acknowledgment. I didn’t love him at all but I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, either, as if there was a permanent seed of hope inside me that I still needed him to nurture. I had stepped into the ring two years ago because of him, seeking his attention in the same place he used to fight, and equally despising him for only doling it out here. And what was I because of this? A pathetic reject with daddy issues. Sigmund Freud would’ve had a fucking field day with this shit.
    “Well , isn’t that sweet. But I heard your old man still wishes you were just a stain on your mamma’s bed sheets. He wanted her to swallow!” Kerr Edwards yelled. He was standing right over Drew and me, leaning over the ropes. “You were supposed to be baby juice in her throat, weren’t you?”
    “You son of a bitch!” Drew fired back, and I grabbed her arm before she hopped the spectator barrier , so she settled for giving Kerr her middle finger.
    Perry was signaling me from across the room , so I said nothing to Kerr, deciding that my fists would be the best response. Perry’s son, Bucky, jumped into the center of the ring and put a bullhorn to his lips. He was my best friend, Perry’s youngest, and he was in our grade, too. His name was really Abraham, but everyone called him Bucky because of his teeth; although, he liked to say that he was named after Clyde Barrow’s brother.
    “Showtime, ” I said to Drew.
    “We g o see your mom right after?” Drew asked and I nodded, though, still unsure. She cupped the back of my head and I pressed my mouth against hers hard. As our kiss got deeper, she jumped onto me and wrapped her legs around my waist. When my lips hit her neck, Drew shuddered out a soft noise. Damn. There wasn’t anything sexier than a girl moaning. No, it was hot as fuck when you were the one making her do it.
    We were obnoxious with our PDA, and sometimes it was to spite all the nosy fuckers in this town, but mostly I did it because I was absolutely fucking crazy about my girl. We made each other laugh, we talked, we argued (we had make-up sex), and we had a lot of fun together. The truth was, I couldn’t say she changed me or I changed for her. I figured sometimes you just connected with another person in a way that no one else had to understand. Hell, I wasn’t sure I did, either. Maybe it was just a feeling. Or a sixth sense. Or two teenagers who were way too “hot in the pants” for each