The Bet, Part 2

I can't get to the row of treadmills fast enough. I pick the first one, climb on without stretching, and jog. When my treadmill hits the thirty-minute mark, and the generous serving of embarrassment Dad heaped on me has melted away, I peer over at Seth. He's still in the ring with his team. While he spars, Dad watches him closely, his eyes wide with awe like a kid in a candy store. Seth and his partner touch gloves, then Seth turns away and approaches my father. Dad tugs at Seth's gloves, pulling them off his big hands, and pats him on the back.

An ear-splitting whistle demands my attention. I slow my treadmill and look for the source of the noise-to Jackson who waves his arm, gesturing for me to come over. I stop the machine and drop off the end. I grab my backpack, eyeing Seth and Dad chatting over the ropes. I don't join them in fear of what my father will say next, so I go to Jackson and join him in Seth's training room.

"Cute babies, huh?" He gestures to a stack of long, thick mat