Chapter 14 - Maya Did Not Forgive Cody
Maya met Cody three months later in a coffee shop across from a rehabilitation clinic.
Public.
Daylight.
No cage.
No gloves.
She asked me to drive her.
She did not ask me to sit with them.
I waited outside.
Thirty-two minutes.
Yes, I counted.
When she came back, she got into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.
“Well?”
She looked at me.
“What happened to not interrogating?”
“Still learning.”
She stared through the windshield.
“Cody apologized again.”
“Different?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He didn't mention Keller until I did.”
That was something.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I believed he was manipulated.”
I waited.
“And?”
“That doesn't make the hit disappear.”
I nodded.
“He asked if I forgive him.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
Simple.
No cruelty.
No performance.
Just no.
Then she continued:
“I also told him I don't need him ruined.”
That surprised me.
“He lost one fight booking.”
“And he might lose more.”
“That's his problem.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“I want him to tell the truth when people ask. That's it.”
“What about Keller?”
“Still not speaking to him.”
“Lawyer?”
“Handling the contract.”
The management agreement would end.
The civil issues might not.
Keller's coaching license at sanctioned events was under review, but the gym remained open under temporary oversight from another coach while those questions moved.
Nothing had become cinematic enough to satisfy social media.
That was fine.
I started the truck.
Maya said:
“Wait.”
I stopped.
She reached into her bag.
Pulled out a laminated credential.
I looked at it.
Regional development camp.
Six weeks away.
I didn't touch it.
“You accepted.”
“A trial camp.”
“Medical clearance?”
“Conditional. I'll be cleared for contact later if everything keeps improving.”
I nodded.
She watched me.
“What?”
“You want me to say something?”
“I expected more.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Her expression changed.
I continued before she could mistake what I meant.
“Not because you're fighting.”
She waited.
“Because you went back to the decision after the fear wore off.”
She looked down at the credential.
“That's suspiciously reasonable.”
“I can ruin it.”
“Please don't.”
I pulled out of the parking lot.
Halfway home she said:
“I’m not asking you to come to camp.”
“I know.”
“That bothered you?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I glanced at her.
She smiled.
We had stolen each other's word.
At a red light, she said:
“But if I get a fight after camp…”
I looked over.
She hesitated.
“I might give you a ticket.”
“One?”
“One.”
“Terrible seats?”
“Probably.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
She rolled her eyes.
Then became serious.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“If you come, you're not there to protect me.”
I understood.
“Then why am I there?”
She looked out the window.
May you like
“To watch.”
That was harder than anything Keller had asked me to do.
