“I’ll go do my last check. Why don’t you take a minute.”
The office door closes with barely a click, but the minute he’s gone the tears finally come. I don’t even bother holding them back this time. I just sit on his couch, clutching my worn backpack in my lap like a lifeline while all the things I’ve been holding in since I got away from Derek come pouring out.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but the tears eventually slow down to a trickle. I wipe my face with impatient hands, ready to be done with my drama. But my heart is lighter, and the world doesn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.
A knock sounds at the door but the thought of Tiernan seeing me like this is suddenly unbearable. I’m too open. Too raw.
“Hey Arlo. I’m heading out. There’s a blanket on the top shelf of the coat closet. I’ll lock the doors tonight. You get some rest.”
He doesn’t open the door. I hear his footsteps as he walks away, then silence, and I’m alone. For the first time since Derek, I’m alone and I’m safe.
I stand up and make my way to the coat closet to grab the blanket. It’s a black, heavy fleece with the gym logo, and it smells like Tiernan. I bury my face in the fabric, soft against my cheeks, as I breathe in his scent. Sandalwood, spice, and something uniquely him. I wrap myself up in its plush warmth before snuggling into the couch cushions.
Exhaustion hits me, and I sink into sleep.
Chapter 7
Arlo
Ijolt awake, deep in the icy grip of panic. Where’s my backpack? I shoot up, scanning the room frantically. I glance down. Thank God, it’s on the floor next to me. I force myself to relax, breathing deeply.
I’m at the gym. On Tiernan’s couch. In his office. I sit there, head in my hands until my heartbeat slows.
I’m safe.
I check the time on my cheap burner phone. I bought it at a convenience store once I’d gotten far enough away from Derek. I’d had to leave my brand-new iPhone behind. Knowing him, there was no way he wasn’t tracking it somehow. By the time I’d finally realized what kind of person he was, any friends I had were long gone. I steer my mind clear of thoughts of Derek.
It’s only seven a.m. Plenty of time until we open. Panic bubbles up again.
What if he changes his mind?
That’s not Tiernan.
My breath quickens, and I know I need a distraction. What-ifs will be the death of me.
It gives me the perfect excuse to nose around Tiernan’s office. The man is positively sparse with any commentary about himself. His family crest is in a huge picture frame behind his desk. I have no idea if my family has one. My parents never mentioned one, and it’s not like I can ask them now. That ship sailed the day I came out. I’m pretty sure it’s sunk by now. I try not to let it get to me. It’s their issue, not mine, but sometimes I really miss my mom.
The wall to the left of his desk has an old fight poster of his. He looks pretty badass. The intense look on his face, those icy blue eyes full of fire—it’s the same look he has every day except somehow it’s softer in real life, at least when he looks at me. Well, one thing’s for sure; fighters have banging bodies. Jesus, that’s a damn eight-pack. A nice canvas for those tats … I’m absolutely not thinking about tracing with my tongue. Nope, not at all.
I check my backpack. All my clothes are dirty. The only clean clothes I have are two pairs of boxers and two of the gym t-shirts he gave me yesterday. I’m going to run the rest through the washer Tiernan uses for the locker room towels. The thought of clean clothes and fresh-smelling towels improves my mood immediately.
The shower’s hot and the water pressure’s absolute bliss. I spend far too long letting the heat soak into the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders. I’ll never take a hot shower for granted again.
Putting on a pair of clean boxers and one of my new t-shirts, I notice I’m humming one of the pop songs from last night. I can’t help but smile to myself as I toss my clothes into the dryer. I fold the clean towels while I’m waiting.
I enjoyed organizing the storage area more than I ever thought possible. It made Tiernan happy, too. Not that you could tell. He’s hard to read, but he never yells.
I’m dressed and making coffee when the front door opens. I tense up, dread sitting in the pit of my stomach, but Tiernan just walks in and grabs a coffee cup out of the cabinet. Same tight t-shirt and compression pants peeking out from under his black gym shorts.
“Morning. Sleep well?” he asks as he pours himself a cup and takes a seat at the folding table.
The deep timbre of his voice jumbles my thoughts, and I take a second to find my voice.
“Yup. Really well.” My voice comes out too high, and I have to clear my throat. “You?”
I sit down opposite him, hands still shaking a bit. He hands me a breakfast burrito from the bag he brought with him, then drops a packet of hot sauce into my outstretched hand. He looks the same way he does every morning. Calm and composed as if nothing’s changed between us. Maybe it hasn’t for him, but for me everything’s changed.
“Slept fine.” He says as he slathers his burrito in hot sauce, just like any other morning.
