Travis smiled.
"Can't."
"Why?"
"Because he embarrassed me."
Miller stared at him.
"That's your problem."
Travis walked toward the heavy bag.
"No."
He wrapped his hands.
"Now it's his."
Over the next several weeks, Travis began appearing wherever Damon went.
The grocery store.
The gas station.
The diner.
The town gym.
He never attacked.
He just watched.
Sometimes he laughed.
Sometimes he whispered to his friends.
Damon ignored him.
Tessa noticed.
One afternoon, she asked, "Why does he keep following us?"
"He's trying to provoke me."
"Is it working?"
Damon tightened a bolt on a motorcycle.
"No."
"You're sure?"
Damon looked at her.
"Being angry is easy."
He wiped his hands.
"Staying calm is harder."
Tessa nodded.
"Did Mom know you were like this?"
Damon stopped.
The question landed differently.
"Like what?"
"Like... dangerous."
Damon looked down.
"Your mother knew me better than anyone."
"Did she know about the other life?"
His hand froze.
Tessa immediately realized she had gone too far.
"What other life?"
Damon stared at her.
For the first time, Tessa saw something in his eyes she couldn't identify.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Something older.
Something tired.
"Who told you?"
"No one."
Damon sat down.
"Tessa."
"What?"
"There are things about my past that I wanted you to never have to know."
She swallowed.
"Because they're bad?"
"Because they're finished."
He stood.
"And I want them to stay finished."
The Festival
Cedar Ridge held its summer festival every year.
There were food trucks.
Music.
Carnival rides.
Craft stalls.
Local bands.
Children ran through the grass carrying balloons.
The town square filled with hundreds of people.
Damon brought Tessa because she loved the festival.
She wore a blue summer dress.
Damon wore jeans and a plain black shirt.
For a few hours, everything was normal.
They ate barbecue.
They watched a local band.
Tessa bought lemonade.
Damon pretended not to notice when she spent twelve dollars on a ridiculous stuffed bear.
Then Tessa saw Travis.
He stood on the other side of the field.
Watching them.
Her smile disappeared.
"Dad."
"I know."
Travis started walking.
Damon looked around.
Families surrounded them.
Children.
Older people.
Friends.
The perfect audience.
Travis stopped several feet away.
"Mechanic."
Damon said nothing.
Tessa moved closer to her father.
Travis dropped a pair of black sparring gloves into the grass.
"Remember these?"
Damon looked at them.
"No."
Travis laughed.
"Come on."
People nearby began turning.
"You embarrassed me."
Damon sighed.
"That wasn't my intention."
"I don't care."
Travis stepped closer.
"You put me on my knees."
"You were threatening my daughter."
"Now I'm challenging you."
Damon shook his head.
"No."
Travis's voice grew louder.
"Scared?"
"No."
"Then fight me."
"No."
"You afraid she'll see you lose?"
Damon looked at Tessa.
She was pale.
Travis smiled.
"There it is."
He pointed toward her.
"Your dad only acts tough when nobody's watching."
A few people murmured.
Damon didn't react.
Travis continued.
"Come on, old man."
Damon looked at the gloves.
Then at Tessa.
He understood what Travis wanted.
A spectacle.
He wanted Damon angry.
He wanted Tessa frightened.
He wanted hundreds of witnesses.
Most importantly, he wanted Damon to become the man Travis had invented in his own head.
But Damon had spent eleven years learning not to become that man.
He looked at Tessa.
"Step back."
"Dad..."
"Please."
She stepped away.
Damon reached toward his wrist.
He unclipped his watch.
It was old.
A simple black watch with a scratched face.
He handed it to Tessa.
"Hold this."
She took it.
"Why?"
"So I don't break it."
Damon walked onto the grass.
The crowd grew quiet.
Travis smiled.
Finally.
He raised his hands.
Damon didn't.
He simply stood there.
Relaxed.
Waiting.
Travis laughed.
"You're going to fight me like that?"
Damon looked at him.
"No."
Travis blinked.
"Then how?"
Damon took one slow breath.
"Like someone who wants to go home."
The First Thirty Seconds
Travis attacked first.
A fast right hand.
Damon moved his head.
The punch missed.
Travis followed with a left hook.
Damon stepped backward.
Another kick.
Damon shifted sideways.
The crowd gasped.
Travis wasn't slow.
He was genuinely skilled.
His movements were sharp.
His footwork was disciplined.
He had earned his state championship.
But Damon wasn't trying to beat him.
Not yet.
He was studying him.
Travis threw a combination.
One.
Two.
Low kick.
Damon avoided all three.
Travis became frustrated.
"Fight!"
Damon said nothing.
Travis rushed forward.
Damon caught his wrist.
The same motion.
The same principle.
But this time Travis knew what was coming.
He ripped his arm away.
"Not again."
Damon released him.
"You don't have to prove anything."
"I have to prove everything."
Travis charged.
His next kick was harder.