An Iron-Body Fighter Told Single Mom "Your Punches Are Useless" — She Was Down, 6 Seconds Later He Regretted!
Chapter 18
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"Gus has used this place three mornings a week for two years," Callie says, coming around the desk fast, her voice sharper than she means it to be. "Longer than you've been coming in here to bother people."Bronson turns to face her, something colder in his eyes than the mocking grin from Tuesday. "This isn't about you right now.""It is the second you talk to him like that."For a moment, nobody moves. Gus sits very still in his chair, looking between the two of them, clearly wishing he was anywhere else. Ray Petroski has stopped his laps entirely, watching from across the room. Dot Sherman's hand has gone to her chest, the way it does when she's genuinely alarmed rather than just gossiping about being alarmed.Bronson takes a step toward Gus's chair—not quite a shove, close enough to one that Gus flinches back, his hand slipping off the armrest. For half a second, it looks like he might actually go down.Callie moves before she's decided to: she catches Gus's shoulder, steadying him, putting herself half between the two men in the same motion."Touch him again," she says, quiet, "and you'll find out real fast whether my punches are useless."The room has gone dead silent; even the radio somehow seems quieter. Bronson studies her for a long moment. Something flickers behind his eyes—not quite fear, but something close to it, some instinct telling him he stepped nearer to a line than he meant to. Then he laughs, short and forced, covering whatever that flicker was."Relax, sweetheart. Just having a little fun.""Get out, Bronson.""This is a public gym.""Not to you, it isn't—not today." Her voice doesn't rise; it doesn't need to. "You want to come back and train? Come back tomorrow, when you're not looking to scare an old man out of his chair. Today, you can leave."For a moment, it looks like he might push it further: his jaw tightens, his weight shifts forward just slightly—the way a man's weight shifts right before he does something he'll regret. Then, unexpectedly, he backs off."Whatever," he mutters, turning toward the door. "This place isn't worth the trouble anyway." He leaves without another word; the door swings shut hard behind him, the bell clattering against the frame.The room lets out a breath it had been holding."You all right, Gus?" Callie asks, crouching beside his chair."Fine, fine." His hands are shaking slightly, though he tries to cover it with a laugh. "Man's got the manners of a bull in a china shop. Doris would have had something to say about that."Silas appears from the back a moment later, having missed the confrontation entirely, though the tension still hanging in the room tells him plenty. He looks at Gus, then at Callie, then toward the door Bronson just left through. "What happened?" he asks."Nothing that ended badly," Callie says. "This time."Silas's jaw sets in a way Callie hasn't seen before—something hard behind his usual patience. "This time," he repeats quietly, mostly to himself.