Breaking Ryann(11)

Thump, thump, thump is the only sound I hear when I step inside the gym. Luke stands in the back, rhythmically pounding his fists into the heavy bag, left-right, left-right, left-right.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” he says, his expression never wavering. I’m surprised he even knew I was here.

It took ten minutes of cursing and beating on my steering wheel to get my stalled Civic out on the street. Thank God it finally started, and I wasn’t sitting in traffic. “I had car troubles.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He continues to swing with brutal force. Beads of sweat drip from his temple. I watch his chest rise and fall, hoping he brought an extra shirt. The one he’s wearing is soaked and clinging to him, which could be a bit of a distraction. When he’s finished with the bag I finally have his full attention. His eyes travel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. He doesn’t bother being discreet about it.

My skin warms, and I try to look unaffected. I’m wearing gray yoga pants, a soft pink tank, and my hair is thrown into a messy bun. I didn’t fuss with putting on make-up. It’s far too early for that, but he’s making me feel self-conscious. “What?” Not all of us look like a god in the wee hours of the morning.

He discards his gloves, then we both tread toward the cage. “Your car’s a piece of shit,” he says, a little short of breath. “You need a new one.” He wipes the sweat from his brow.

“It’s easier said than done for some people.” I give him a sideways glance.

“I’ll get my buddy to look at it. See if he can fix it.” He acts like this is a no-brainer.

“You don’t have to help me.” You’re not my boyfriend. Remember?

“I’ll get him to look at it,” he replies like I don’t have a choice. “The idea of you alone, stuck in a broken down car doesn’t sit well with me. Sorry.”

To tell you the truth, it doesn’t sit well with me either. I decide not to argue.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he uses it to wipe the sweat off his body.

I spot a scar on his shoulder—one I’ve never seen and want to ask about—but he distracts me when he works his way down his stomach. His carved V flexes and disappears below his waistband.

I need a glass of water. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Keep it together, Reese! Eyes on the face!

“Did you tell him?”

Confused, my forehead creases.

“Your boy,” he clarifies. “Does he know where you are? Who you’re with?”

“I’m not discussing Sean with you.”

“He doesn’t like us working together. Does he?” A wry grin spreads on his face. His smugness agitates me.

I lift my chin. “You’re one to talk.”

“How’s that?”

“Privately training with an ex. That isn’t going to be a problem?”

“For? Unless you’re referring to Chance, I’ve got no one to answer to.” Tossing his shirt out of the way, he continues, “That’s the luxury of being single,” he adds flatly.

I blink until it registers, then my words are jumbled. “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Don’t apologize.”

Closing my mouth, I focus on the floor. An awkward silence falls between us. That explains her absence. Retying my shoes so I don’t have to look at him, I wonder if he notices my shaky hands. Did he love her? Did he ever truly love me? This is all just so confusing.

“Why’d you come?” he asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

Why’d I come? Why did I come? Good question. Keeping my emotions in check, I say, “I’ve gotten rusty since you’ve been gone. Stopped training, stopped caring.” I exhale a long breath. “I’m doing it for the kids.” Not for you, if that’s what you’re asking.

He watches me intently, and it penetrates my bones, awakening something within me. He can do that with just a look. It’s an unfair advantage, and I feel naked.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You want to start where we left off?”

My gaze narrows on his tan, muscled chest. “Seriously?”

A brow arches in question. “Yeah. There a problem?”

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

He grabs the sweaty shirt off the floor and puts an arm through.

“You don’t have another?”

Pulling it over his head, it’s still obviously wet. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Leave it off then. I guess.”

“I’ll wear it, if you want.”