Logan laughed.
“Obviously.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I mean you’ve challenged people before.”
His grin faded slightly.
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve always chosen people who were unlikely to fight back.”
A few heads turned.
Someone coughed.
Logan’s jaw tightened.
Grant lowered his phone for half a second.
Then raised it again.
“Don’t make excuses,” Logan said.
“I’m not.”
I handed the gloves back to him.
That surprised everyone.
Especially him.
“I don’t fight people because they want an audience.”
For the first time, Logan looked genuinely confused.
“You scared?”
“No.”
“Then put them on.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t understand.”
He stepped closer.
“Explain it to me.”
“You’re twenty-two.”
“So?”
“I’m forty-two.”
He laughed.
“So you’re saying you’re too old?”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
“No.”
I looked past him at the people standing along their driveways.
At the children watching from behind fences.
