I should tease him. I should laugh.
Instead, I stare at him, because something about the way he saidreally gooddidn’t feel like a trainer assessing reps.
It felt like a man noticing a woman, and he knows it. His ears go slightly pink.
“Anyway,” he mutters, stepping back, “great session. Have a good weekend.”
He turns before I can reply, walking off to re-rack weights with unnecessary enthusiasm, like he’s trying to burn off electricity.
I exhale, grab my bag, and head out.
Stop overthinking,I tell myself.
But then, when I get home, I empty my purse onto the counter.
Keys, lip balm, receipts, and a protein bar tumble out.
But along with those familiar items, I see something folded.
It’s not mine, and it’s not familiar.
It’s a slip of paper, creased like it was once in someone’s pocket.
So I unfold it, and my heart stops when I realize it’s Colt’s handwriting.
Bold. Slanted slightly right, and a little messy.
There are just two words written down:
“Don’t settle.”
I sit down slowly, the note trembling in my hand.
I don’t know when he wrote it.
I don’t know when he put it in my bag.
I don’t know if he meant for me to find it now…or ever.
But I know one thing:
“Workouts only” was a lie.
And now?
Now I don’t know what we’re doing at all.
And then, he sends me one more text that I have a feeling might change everything.
Chapter Twelve
ELENA
On Saturday morning at 6:27 a.m., New York is a ghost town.
The streets are empty except for delivery trucks and the occasional jogger with questionable life choices.
Cold air nips at my cheeks as I pull open the gym door.
