...How could I tell?
The floorboards creak as I shift my weight. Is he really asking me that? Does he really want to know?
Is Pierro Rush saying I got it right?
"I, um." My words are hoarse. I clear my throat, but it doesn't help. "I've been watching you for years. The difference lately was obvious."
"No, it wasn't." He steps closer to the door, agitated. I jerk back, before I remember there's a slab of wood between us. "Not to anyone else. The guys I train with didn't even notice. No one did, not until you pointed it out. And now I'm screwed—pushed onto the back foot. They're talking about retirement," he spits the word. "So how could you tell?"
"I don't know," I snap, flustered now. I never wanted to cause him trouble, but this is my work. "I guess I'm good at my job. Shocking, righ
