He reached out and held her hand in his. They tried to shake with professionalism, but Victoria couldn’t muster the effort. She not only wanted him to hold her hand, but to hold her. “Call me when you’re ready for our next appointment,” he said in a husky voice.

She slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. “I will.”

“Good.”

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

After a Skype conference with his sister and niece, it had been decided that Becca would be better suited with a confidence-boosting activity on the weekends. With Jessi’s permission, John had signed Becca up for kiddie kickboxing lessons at Chris’s gym. He knew what it was like to be a frustrated kid with no outlet. Becca could punch her way to a Zen-like serenity instead of shoving schoolgirls. After making arrangements with Chris, he checked his phone for any missed messages from Victoria. Nothing.

There were still no messages the following morning. It had been hell getting Becca out of bed, but they made it just in time for her first class. As he watched his niece do sit ups through a viewing window with other parents, he felt a rough clap on his shoulder. “She looks good, Uncle Johnny,” Chris said.

“She’s not exactly a fighter,” John said.

“That’s what the classes are for. Come on, man, let’s fire off a couple of rounds with the bag.”

John kept his eyes on Becca as the kids lined up for more calisthenics. “Yeah, sure,” he murmured. “Dante’s going to take it easy on her, right? I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Chris chuckled. “Aww, fatherhood looks cute on you. Don’t worry about her; Dante’s great with kids.”

He was reluctant to leave the window and follow his friend to the boxing area of the gym, but he forced himself to back away. Hiring Dante last summer to start the kickboxing classes was the best business decision his friend could have made. News of the kid-friendly and women-only classes had spread throughout town, making Flynn Fitness the busiest gym in Farmingdale. John was proud of his buddy’s business savvy, considering what kind of mess he was when they were kids.

As they stood with a heavy bag hanging between them, John still saw the goofy kid he’d grown up with, just a bit taller and more muscular. Chris swept his blonde curls out of his face and flashed him the same good humored grin. “Boxing gloves or sparring gloves?” he asked.

John pulled off his hoody and tossed it on a nearby bench. “Sparring,” he said.

Chris tossed him a pair and held the bag while John slipped them on. “It’s been a minute since you’ve rocked the bag so we’ll start with a two-minute circuit.”