Chapter 12 - Leah Didn’t Want The Gym To Die
Leah came to Reed Combat the next afternoon.
Not with lawyers.
With her sister.
Mia Ortiz was twenty-two and had lost in the quarterfinal Saturday.
She looked around the gym like she'd been told it contained ghosts.
Leah said:
“I heard Mason might sell.”
Priya crossed her arms.
“News travels.”
“I don't want that.”
I stared.
“Why?”
Leah looked at me.
“Because two bad choices can exist without me wanting fifty kids to lose their gym.”
That was annoyingly reasonable.
Jake offered them coffee.
Leah tasted it.
“This place deserves closure.”
Priya laughed.
First normal sound all afternoon.
We sat near the cage.
Leah told us her coach from Phoenix was willing to speak to event investigators.
So was she.
Jake had already done it.
I had.
Mason too.
No one knew the final outcome.
Leah said:
“My coach wants people to understand I agreed.”
I nodded.
“You told me.”
“He doesn't want Mason portrayed like he kidnapped me from the mat.”
“No one said that.”
“Internet did.”
Of course.
She continued:
“Mason created leverage.”
“Yes.”
“My coach used it.”
“Yes.”
“I eventually accepted.”
“Yes.”
“And Rachel benefited.”
Silence.
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
She seemed surprised I didn't fight the word.
I continued:
“I didn't know.”
“I know.”
“Still benefited.”
“Yes.”
Jake stared at the floor.
Mia finally spoke.
“Why does everyone keep saying it like somebody has to own a percentage?”
We looked at her.
She shrugged.
“Mason did something wrong. Leah still chose. Her coach still pushed. Rachel still didn't know.”
Simple.
Maybe because she had not spent three years building identities around the result.
Leah looked at her sister.
“Twenty-two-year-olds are annoying.”
Mia smiled.
“You're welcome.”
Then Leah looked at the Phoenix poster.
“I want that bracket corrected.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Not erase your championship.”
“Then?”
“Add an official note that my semifinal was a withdrawal under review?”
Priya shook her head.
“Gym doesn't control event archives.”
“I know.”
“Then why tell us?”
“Because your wall does.”
We all looked.
The poster simply said:
RACHEL CARTER — PHOENIX OPEN CHAMPION.
No context.
No need for context in normal life.
Now it felt strange.
I stood.
Took the poster down.
Leah immediately said:
“I didn't ask you to remove it.”
“I know.”
“Then—”
I handed it to Priya.
“Put it in the office until the event decides what Phoenix officially becomes.”
Priya took it.
No symbolism.
Just less certainty on the wall.
Mia looked around.
“Now it looks empty.”
Jake said:
“We have plenty of ugly team photos.”
He found one from a local smokers' night where everyone looked half asleep.
Priya taped it up.
Leah laughed.
Then her face became serious.
“What are you doing?”
I knew what she meant.
“Training with Dana this week.”
“Leaving Reed?”
“I don't know.”
She nodded.
Didn't say good.
I appreciated that.
Then:
“What do you want?”
I leaned back.
“A career I can recognize.”
She looked at me.
“You still have one.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I groaned.
“Please stop.”
She smiled.
Then explained why she'd really come.
Her sister Mia needed a gym for two weeks before their own facility reopened after water damage.
Reed Combat had space.
Priya looked surprised.
“You want your sister training here?”
“With Mason gone from coaching.”
Jake winced.
Leah continued:
“And with somebody else handling entries.”
Priya nodded slowly.
“We can do that.”
Leah looked at me.
“You okay with it?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because if seeing us every day makes this place impossible—”
I cut her off.
“No.”
She waited.
“I don't want everybody rearranging themselves around what I can tolerate.”
That had been Mason's mistake too.
Deciding which encounters other people could handle.
Leah nodded.
“Mia starts Monday.”
As they left, Jake said:
“That's weird.”
“What?”
“Phoenix walking into Reed.”
I watched Leah hold the door for her sister.
“Maybe Phoenix was always bigger in our heads.”
Jake shook his head.
“No.”
May you like
He smiled slightly.
“Definitely still weird.”
