“Rematch anytime,” she said as the doctor entered.

“Hello, hello . . . I’m Doctor Hanly.” He scanned the file. “So—possible shoulder dislocation?” he asked Tyson.

“Yes. It feels that way.” He’d dislocated his shoulder only once before, in the middle of a fight, but at the time, he’d managed to pop the shoulder back in and continue fighting. He didn’t remember the pain being so intense. Adrenaline was an amazing analgesic.

Dr. Hanly examined the shoulder. “How did this happen?”

“Rock climbing competition,” he muttered.

“I won,” Parker said, holding up the stupid trophy as though it were an Academy Award.

“You came in third,” Tyson grumbled.

The doctor laughed. “Ah . . . now I get it. Yes, I’m afraid it is out of joint, so I’m going to have to set it back in place.”

Parker paled, standing and rushing for the door.

“Where are you going?” Tyson asked.

“I’m not watching that.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me in pain alone?”

“Don’t be a pussy. I’ll wait outside,” she said, disappearing out into the hall as the doctor held Tyson’s arm.

Don’t be a pussy. He smiled, then a second later, his shoulder was snapped into place and he swore.

“Done,” Dr. Hanly said.

“A heads up would have been nice,” he said, rubbing the shoulder. It felt a million times better, after the initial crucifying impact of the readjustment.

“It’s worse when you know it’s about to happen.” He picked up the patient file and made several notes.

“I can’t see how that’s possible, but okay,” Tyson said as he climbed off the table and reached for his leather jacket. “Thanks.”

“You still might want to ice the shoulder tonight and consider a sling if movement is stiff and painful for a few days. It’s going to take a few weeks to heal properly. Try not to work it too hard. No more rock climbing for a bit.”

A few weeks? No. “I have a fight in less than two weeks.”

“MMA fighter?”

He nodded.

“I wouldn’t recommend fighting with this injury . . . not for at least a couple of months. Once the shoulder dislocates the first time, it’s easy to reinjure it. You need to give it time to heal, otherwise if it keeps dislocating, you may need surgery.”

He shook his head. Surgery? No way. Rest? Impossible. He was defending his title in twelve days. Damn it! Why had he let his ego take over that afternoon? His competitive side had overshadowed his common sense and he’d pushed himself too hard, too fast in his attempt to beat Parker on that wall. And now he could be screwed for the challenge that really mattered.

“Do you want me to give you something for the fight officials? Let them know you can’t fight for a while?” He sat at the computer, but Tyson shook his head.

“No, that’s fine.” He had no intentions of following these doctor’s orders. By fight day, his shoulder would be fine. It had to be. “Thanks, Doc,” he said, going out into the hall.

“What did he say?” Parker said, looking worried as he approached.

“He said I’m good to go.”

*   *   *

Parker turned her car onto Carey Avenue later that evening. “I promise it’s nothing strenuous,” she said.

“I thought being in the cage was dangerous, turns out hanging out with you causes me more pain,” Tyson said in the passenger seat next to her, his arm wrapped in a sling he’d fabricated himself at the gym.

She smiled. “Relax . . . this will be fun.”

The entrance for the West Wind Drive-In came into view and he said, “A drive-in movie?”

“Yes. Have you ever been here?”

“No.”

“My parents and I would come here to see Grandma’s movies. It was the only place my mom could go where people wouldn’t recognize her as Abigail Hamilton’s daughter. My grandmother loved the spotlight and wasn’t concerned about keeping my mom out of it, so she was in the media quite a bit growing up.” She paused. “I guess after being scrutinized so much, it made sense for my parents to want to keep me out of the spotlight. I often wonder if they’d be disappointed by the path I’ve chosen to take, when it was something they worked hard to shield me from.”

“I don’t think so. I think they would be proud of you for following your own path.”

But had she? Or had she just walked along her grandmother’s well-beaten, familiar trail?

“What happened, anyway? With the fire?” he asked.

“It was an electrical fire. We went to bed one night, and the next thing I remember the smoke detector outside my room was going off and I heard my mom yelling to me from down the hall to get outside.” She paused, the night so vivid in her mind. “So, I grabbed my Cabbage Patch Doll and a little box of special items I kept under my bed, and I ran until I was outside. My parents weren’t coming out and I was terrified. The neighbors were there with me . . . I don’t remember them well, but they were very kind and they took care of me until the next morning, when my grandmother arrived from LA.” She shrugged. “The firemen said a beam collapsed in front of their bedroom door, blocking their escape. They’d been unable to get to them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember that night better than any other memory.” She paused as it washed over her now. That night had changed the course of her entire life. And while she’d been young and couldn’t remember them as well as she’d like to, she missed her parents every day. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she glanced at him. “You talk about your dad all the time, but what about your mom? Where is she?” she asked, feeling as though now was the only chance she might have to ask him anything as personal. After all, she’d just shared her tragic story.

“She died of a brain aneurysm,” he said simply.

“I’m sorry . . . How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

He was staring off into the distance and she sensed that was as much as he wanted to say about it, so she didn’t press further. She’d learned to take the little bits of himself he offered and try to piece the rest together like a puzzle as they went along. Toward what exactly, she wasn’t sure, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.

As they pulled up to the booth, Tyson scanned the field. “There’s like five screens in there.”

“I know. We just decide which two movies we want to see and then they will direct us to the right screen and which radio channel to tune in to,” she said, excitedly. She hadn’t been to the drive-in in years.

He stared at her. “You really love movies, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Even though you’ve worked on sets and know how they’re made, you can still find the magic in them?”

She nodded. “When you’re filming individual scenes out of order most of the time, it’s fascinating to later watch how it all fits together onscreen. I’ll never get tired of it.”

They selected their movie and parked in front of the screen, and her mind wandered. Was it really up to her, though? Or would Hollywood decide when her career was over? She was taking a huge gamble on this MMA movie, hoping it was the right move to save her failing career.

“Hey—you okay?” Tyson asked when she was quiet.

“Yeah . . . I’m fine . . .” She hesitated before being honest. “I’m worried I only got this role because the director was hoping for additional funding by having a big name attached to the film.”

He turned in the seat to face her. “Why would you think that?”

She sighed. “Just overheard something to that effect on the plane coming back from the audition.” She bit her lip, staring out into the dark.

He reached for her hand. “I’m sure that’s not the reason.”

She shot him a look. “How can you say that? You’ve admitted you’ve never even seen any of my movies, so how would you know if I can act or not?”

He brought her palm to his lips. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the most qualified to make that statement, but I’ve read lines with you and that was good.”