PART 2
Derek shot forward like a linebacker, one thick hand reaching for Cole’s neck while the other aimed for an underhook beneath his arm.
Cole barely moved.
That was the first thing everyone noticed.
He didn’t jump backward. He didn’t tense. He didn’t even raise his shoulders.
He simply shifted his weight half a step to the left, caught Derek’s wrist, and redirected him past his hip.
Derek stumbled two full steps before recovering.
For a second, the room was completely silent.
Then someone near the changing rooms coughed to hide a laugh.
Derek spun around.
His face had changed.
Until that moment, he had been performing.
He had expected another frightened beginner he could throw around while everyone watched.
Now there was something sharper behind his eyes.
Embarrassment.
“You wrestle?” Derek asked.
Cole’s expression remained blank.
“A little.”
Derek snorted.
“A little.”
He looked around the gym, making
sure everyone heard him.
“Okay, tough guy. Cute trick. Let’s actually grapple.”
Cole glanced at me.
I was still sitting against the wall, rubbing my throat. Every swallow felt like broken glass. My head pounded from the lack of oxygen, and my hands still shook.
Cole saw all of it.
His eyes rested on the red marks around my neck.
Then he looked back at Derek.
“Sure.”
Derek rushed again.
This time he was more careful.
He circled Cole, feinting twice before suddenly changing levels and driving both arms around Cole’s waist.
The impact should have folded him.
Instead, Cole widened his stance and became impossibly heavy.
Derek grunted.
His feet kept driving.
Cole didn’t move.
I had seen my brother do strange things before.
Once, when we were teenagers, our father’s pickup had slid partly into a ditch. Cole had been seventeen and skinny, but he had somehow found
the leverage to help Dad push it free.
Another time, three drunk men had started trouble outside a restaurant while we were visiting San Diego. Cole had spoken to them so calmly that the situation ended without anyone throwing a punch.
