Page 5 of Made for Wilde

I watch her walk carefully down the steps and back across the yard to her car. When she reaches it, she turns and gives me asmall wave. Then she gets in, starts the engine, and I watch until her car disappears around the bend in the road, swallowed by the trees.

Alone again, I go back inside and close the door. The envelope sits on the kitchen table like an accusation. I walk over and stare at it, feeling something like resignation settle in my chest.

Five years ago, I never would’ve pictured myself here. Teaching boxing instead of competing. Living alone in a cabin in the mountains.

Back then, I was still chasing rankings. Still believing I had another title shot in me.

Then came the torn rotator cuff during a routine sparring session. Eighteen years of training. Twelve as a pro. Gone in one bad move. The doctors fixed it as best they could. But it’ll never be the same.

I touch my shoulder unconsciously, feeling the familiar knot of scar tissue beneath my shirt. Not that it matters anymore.

Physical pain I can handle. It’s the other kind that nearly killed me.

I leave the envelope where it is and walk to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. As I twist off the cap, my phone buzzes from the counter where I left it charging. I check the screen, and my best friend Jason Palmer’s name flashes up at me.

“Palmer,” I answer.

“Koda! How the hell are you, you antisocial bastard?”

Despite myself, I feel the corner of my mouth lift. Jason’s one of the few people who can call me out on my hermit tendencies.

“Still breathing,” I say. “What’s up?”

“I’m in town for some business meetings. Thought I’d give you a call, see if you wanted to grab a drink tonight.”

I take a pull from my water and walk back to the window. “You’re in Cooper Heights?”

Jason runs a successful construction company back in our hometown of Cheyenne. It keeps him busy most days, and Cooper Heights is a three-hour drive from there. Not exactly a casual trip.

“Yeah, drove up this morning,” he says. I can hear traffic in the background. “Figured I’d stick around for the night and see Charlotte while I’m here.”

I frown. “Charlotte? As in, your daughter Charlotte?”

“Yeah. She lives in Cooper Heights now. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No. You didn’t tell me.”

“Shit, sorry. Things have been crazy lately.” He sounds distracted. “Charlotte got accepted to the Fit Mountain Beauty School. Wants to be a hairdresser like her mom was.”

“That’s great,” I say, and I mean it. “Really great.”

“Yeah.” His voice softens, and I can picture the look on his face. “I think Elaine would’ve been proud.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

What is there to say? Elaine’s been gone for eight years. But for Jason, I know it feels like yesterday.

“Anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat. “Charlotte’s working as a waitress at some bar downtown. I thought we could swing by and surprise her. She’d love to see her Uncle Koda.”

Uncle Koda. The title sits uncomfortably on my shoulders.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, staring out at the trees as they sway in the wind. “What time?”

“Eight work for you? I’ve got meetings until seven.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address. See you then.”