He didn’t show up to keep his sparring date with Loup that week, which didn’t surprise her. What did surprise her was that Miguel showed up the following Sunday morning, still drunk and bleary-eyed.

“Okay, little girl,” he slurred. “It’s all on you, now. Let’s fight.”

“Miguel, you’re in no condition to get in the ring,” Floyd said.

“Shut up, old man.”

“Mig, we can ask for a rematch,” Loup said. “You damn near had him. That match could have gone either way.”

“No.” Miguel shook his heavy head. “No. I tried. I don’t wanna work that fuckin’ hard anymore. They’re never gonna give it to any of us on points. System’s rigged.”

“You damn near KO’d him in the third!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t.” He wavered on his feet. “Whaddya want? This was always your fight, kid. Don’t put it on me. You wanna change your fuckin’ mind, change your fuckin’ mind. Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Loup murmured.

“Well, you’re goddamn well gonna have to decide!” Miguel pointed. “Either get out or get in the ring. Right now, I need to hit someone and either it’s gonna be you or I’ll go find someone else.”

She got in the ring.

Miguel went after her with drunken ferocity, ignoring Floyd’s protests. Loup let him come after her and keep coming, catching or deflecting his blows with ease. She hit him back a few times, good, solid shots that sent shudders rippling through his thick, muscled body.

When it was over, he was panting and sweating, booze reeking from every pore, but he was calmer and clear-eyed. “Thanks, kid.”

Loup nodded. “Sure.”

“I mean it. You gotta decide.”

“I know.”

Still, she put it off. The choice hung over her, heavy as a stone. Another week passed, then another and another. Miguel kept their sparring dates, though more often than not he was drunk and sluggish in the ring.

Her uncertainty deepened.

In the small hours of the night, she dreamed of Tommy. His face fixed in concentration as he trained. His face glowing with pride in the ring. His face slack and lifeless on the operating table, a blue cotton cap hiding the damage to his skull.

But then she would awaken and see Pilar’s face looking soft and sweet with sleep, sunlight picking out the highlights in her hair where it fanned across the pillow, brown silk streaked with blond.

“Don’t look at me that way,” Pilar murmured, catching her at it. “I can feel it.”

“What way?”

She opened her eyes. “Like you’re memorizing me.”

It was a month after Miguel’s loss that things changed. He showed up for their Sunday-morning session sober and steady. He listened to Floyd’s injunctions and obeyed them scrupulously.

For the first time in weeks, they had a good session, and Loup felt Miguel was pushing her to the best of his ability.

“Good work,” the coach allowed. “Hit the showers.”

“Hey.” Miguel caught Loup’s arm. His brown eyes were somber. “Wait for me after you scrub down. I wanna talk to you, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed.

She washed and changed, taking her time. Miguel took notoriously long showers, heedless of whether it used up the limited supply of hot water. Today he was quicker than usual, and she didn’t have to wait long before he emerged, black curls damp, smelling of soap.

“C’mere.” He led her over to the weight benches. They sat facing each other on adjacent benches. Miguel breathed a heavy sigh. “Look, I don’t like to meddle in other people’s shit, okay? And I don’t know how things are with you. This might be nothing. But you’re facing a big choice, and God help me, I kinda care about you. I thought you oughta know what’s going on.”

“What?”

“You know how I told you everything gets around in this town?” he asked. Loup nodded. “Well, your girl’s been seeing Rory Salamanca.”

Loup stared blankly at him. “Pilar?”

“Um, yeah.” Miguel ran a hand over his damp hair, awkward. “Last couple of Wednesday nights, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” His voice was unwontedly gentle. “I’m sure.”

She stood up so fast her head spun.

“Whoa.” Miguel rose, put his hands on her shoulders. “Slow down, kid. People are coming. You don’t want ’em to see you breaking the sound barrier.” He tightened his grip. “You gonna be okay?”

Loup blinked. “I dunno.”

“Take it easy.” He tried to shake her rigid shoulders, but they wouldn’t budge. “See, this is why I don’t do relationships. This shit happens. Happens to everyone. You’re not the first, won’t be the last. Don’t do anything crazy. Go for a walk, clear your head. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Outside, the sun was blazing high overhead. Spring, and it was already hot as hell in Outpost. Loup walked aimlessly, scuffing the dusty streets, her gym bag slung over one shoulder. She felt dizzy and disoriented, and there was a bone-deep ache in her chest like Miguel had landed a good one on her.

You can hurt, baby. I’ve seen you hurt.

She found herself at the public school. On a Sunday, it was locked and abandoned. She sat on the front steps where she and Tommy had sat side by side so long ago. There was a flagpole outside the entrance. She hadn’t noticed it before. It still held the remnants of a flag, faded and tattered. A colorless rag snapping against the hard blue sky. If she squinted, she could still make out the lone star in the faded field, the two stripes.

It reminded her of Miguel’s loss.

Santa Olivia’s loss.

Loup rose—too quick, again. Dizzy. Anyone watching would have seen only a blur between sitting and standing. Tommy’s voice in her memory. Be careful!

Careful.

She took slow, deep breaths until the dizziness passed, then made her way to the Gin Blossom.

This time Pilar saw her enter. There was no brightening of her eyes, no quick, glad smile on her lips. It faltered and died the second she saw the expression on Loup’s face. “Hey,” she said quietly.

“We need to talk.”

Pilar nodded and turned to Joe Torres, who was counting bottles and making notes on a clipboard. “Joey honey, can you cover my shift today? Please?”

He agreed, grumbling.

They walked out side by side, not touching, not talking. Not until they reached an abandoned stretch of street. Office buildings, boarded and abandoned. Not so very long ago, they’d taken shelter from the rain here.

Loup halted and faced Pilar. “Rory Salamanca.”

“Yeah.” Pilar shivered, covered her face with her hands. Dropped them. “I wondered how long it would take you to find out.”

“How long did it?”

“Not long. It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

Her heart ached. “Yeah, well, I know he’s rich. And he’s reasonably cute. Is he nice, Pilar? I hope at least he’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Pilar said softly. “Yeah, actually, he is. Turns out he wanted to ask me out a while ago, but he thought it would be creepy, thought I was too young. He waited a couple of years. He’s old-fashioned, you know?”

“Does he even know about me?”

“He knows,” she murmured. “He asked. I told him… I told him it was nothing. Kid stuff. Just a way to screw with the guys’ minds, keep them off my back.” She swallowed. “I told him you were the one took it too serious. I told him I was gonna break it off with you.”

“Why?” Loup whispered, eyes burning.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Pilar shuddered. “Jesus! Get mad. Yell at me.”

“Pilar, why?”

“Because I’m tearing you apart!” Her raised voice echoed off the empty street. “Do you think I don’t know it? See it? Goddamnit, Loup! I know what you have to choose; you know what you have to choose. And if you don’t, what the fuck happens to us? Five years from now, ten years from now. You’ll be trapped here. Stuck living in slow motion and hating me for it.”

“No.” Loup shook her head. “I’d never blame you.”

“Oh, hell! You know what?” Pilar laughed in despair, gave a hiccup that was half sob. “You’re right, you wouldn’t. Baby, you don’t even know how to be petty and spiteful and cruel. But I would. I’d see you being miserable every goddamn waking hour, and I’d blame myself for it. And one day, I’d start resenting you for making me feel like shit about myself…” Her shoulders shook.

Loup was silent.

Pilar got her breathing under control, wiped her eyes. “I love you.” Her voice broke again. She took another minute. “And if I were a better person, I’d… I’d do what I oughta do. Quit asking you to let go of your dream. Stand by you, support you. Be glad I had you as long as I did, then give you a kiss and send you off like some goddamn war bride getting ready to be a widow.” She shook her head, sunlight glittering on her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m not that brave, Loup. I’m not that strong.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I’m not that strong!” She drew a long, shaking breath. “I’m not strong enough to let you go, either. I need you to push me away.”

“Toward Rory Salamanca?” Loup asked.

“Whoever, whatever. Rory was there.” Pilar gave a slight, weary shrug. “I don’t care. After you, it’s all cheap tequila.”

Loup lifted her gaze, letting the sun dazzle her burning eyes. She looked back at Pilar. “Is this really what you want?”

“No,” Pilar whispered, tears making slow, steady tracks down her face. “But it’s what I can live with.”

Loup closed her eyes, letting the world go black. “Okay.”