The Penitent One (Boston Crime Thriller Book 3), Brian Shea [best non fiction books of all time .TXT] 📗

think it went well. Embry seems really taken by you," he said. "Sorry to cut things short.”

“Eight o'clock isn't too short, especially when we’ve got an early day tomorrow." Barnes smiled. "But—I wouldn't mind a longer evening, one of these days."

"Agreed.” He retrieved the plate from the cold hood. “Tradition is tradition, and I've got to pay Pops a visit."

Barnes held up a hand and then placed it on his chest, tapping lightly against his well-shaped pectorals. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I think it's wonderful, the connection you have with him and the way you two take care of each other."

"Family is a strange thing, and it doesn't always come by way of blood," Kelly said.

They kissed again and separated. Kelly watched as Barnes drove off, then made his way down the driveway, wedged between his mother's home and their neighbor’s. On the street, he saw the red Jetta that had caused his mother so much grief. Nobody was around. The street vacant. The car served as a reminder of one of the many things Kelly still had to take care of. He needed to set aside some time to have a little chat with the neighbor about their middle-of-the-night disruptions.

After the short commute to Pops’s gym, Kelly parked in the back lot. He put his hand on the foil covering, happy to feel it was still warm to the touch.

He entered through the back door, always left open by the old gym owner, day or night, as long as he was inside. It was a way of giving the neighborhood children and young adults a safe haven to escape to any time they needed one. The boxing coach and mentor had proven himself a father figure, protector, and life coach for many of the wayward youth of Dorchester's rough neighborhood, including Michael Kelly.

Thanksgiving was the one Thursday a year, outside of unforeseen circumstances, when Kelly and his three childhood cronies would miss their Thursday night fights. Their boxing matches, rotating weekly between the group of them, held a nostalgic connection to their past, keeping strong the relationships of the present.

Several years back, Kelly had started a tradition of his own on this night, and that was to bring his boxing coach and friend a Thanksgiving meal.

Ever since Pops had lost his son to the criminal justice system, sitting behind bars in maximum security for a murder committed many years ago, he spent Thanksgiving alone. His only real family were those who came through the hallowed halls of this gymnasium.

Kelly made sure on this particular night that Pops was taken care of. He'd invited him numerous times to the house, and Pops had graciously turned down the offer each time, so Kelly took it upon himself to bring the man a plate of food and some dessert. First, Pops was resistant to the gift, but he had come to look forward to this delivery service of sorts.

The lights were off in the gymnasium’s main space, Pops saving money where he could in a tough economy.

The smell of sweat and leather clung to the air, even though the gym was closed for recreational use, but Kelly saw the office light on and knew he would find Pops inside. He stepped inside and Pops looked up, clearing away a space at his desk for the expected delivery. Kelly thought of the story his mother had told tonight, his father and the failed egg delivery.

A smile bloomed across Pops’s face. He looked up at the clock on the wall, surrounded by clippings and photos of past champions. "I was wondering if you’d be stopping by."

"I know. A little later than normal. I had a visitor tonight, a special guest."

"And who, may I ask, was that?"

"Kristen Barnes.” Kelly couldn’t help but smile upon saying her name. “I don't know if you remember her. A few months back, she was with me when I dropped off that young Murphy kid after the shooting."

Pops nodded as he accepted the plates of food. "I do. Attractive girl."

"Thanks."

“So, is it serious? Is Michael Kelly ready to settle back down again?"

"I don't know."

Pops laughed. "Sounds like that's something you better figure out. A girl that pretty isn't going to stick around long, especially with a guy who doesn't know whether he's in a relationship or not, or how he feels about her." The life coaching was never on pause.

Pops held the foil to his nose before unwrapping it, taking a deep sniff and closing his eyes. "Smells amazing. Do I detect something different this year?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Brussels sprouts."

Pops didn’t look too excited at the news.

"Don’t worry. I think you'll like how I cooked them. Plenty of bacon."

Pops smiled.

"I even got Embry to try them."

"You don't say, and speaking of young Embry, when are you going to be bringing her through the doors? She's about that age where she can start working the bag. Never too young."

Pops was right and Kelly knew it. He'd been meaning to, once he got on a more routine schedule, but Homicide had proven to be anything but routine. His goal was to start bringing Embry to the gym, start her off slow, a day, maybe two days a week, on the nights when he had visitation. Kelly wasn’t much older when he got his start.

He figured his daughter would not only learn the art of boxing but also some of the finer pointers life had to offer from the wisdom of the man seated across from Kelly, a man who had proven a guidepost in Kelly's life.

"And please tell me this is your ma's homemade pumpkin pie."

Pops sounded as though he was salivating already and might be eating dessert before dinner.

"It is," Kelly said. “I warmed everything up just before coming over so you wouldn't have to microwave it."

"I like the sound of that.” Pops rubbed his hands together in exaggerated anticipation of the meal to come. “You going to stick around for a little bit?"

"I should be