Aspen follows me obediently, as I reach for her treat jar, and sits, giving me her paw when I give her the command.
“Good girl,” I say, rubbing her behind the ear before refilling her water bowl.
“You need to pee?” I ask, opening the back door, but when she makes no signs of moving, I close it again, grab my bag and make my way to the ensuite bathroom on autopilot.
Turning on the walk-in shower, I strip out of my clothes before stepping under the spray and resting my arm against the cool tiled wall.
The water is a balm to my senses. Something about the running water always manages to calm me. My mum used to say how much I loved anything to do with water because I was a water baby, born in March.
I close my eyes as the hot spray runs over my bare back.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
I stay there, not moving for way too long, before I eventually cover myself in soap suds, wash, and rinse off.
Once I’ve dried off, I try to ignore my reflection as I pull out a clean t-shirt and pair of shorts from my bag and dress. I hold onto the counter, contemplating what to do. The shower was only a small reprieve.
“Fuck it.” I pull open the door, and Aspen sits up and follows me as I make my way to our home gym, ignoring the fact I had indeed just showered but way too wired and overstimulated to relax.
I turn on the lights and hit play on the sound system as Aspen goes to her bed in the corner of the room.
Finding the gloves on the bench, I strap them on and then begin hitting the punch bag. I’m a sweaty mess by the time the music is cut off, and I glance over my shoulder to find Caleb leaning against the door frame, watching me, his brows furrowed.
“Hey, you look like you’ve been a round or two with that bag,” he says, stalking towards me, still clad in his work suit.
I swipe the back of my arm over my forehead, and it comes away wet.
He reaches for one of the towels off the benches and tosses it towards me. I catch it and wipe it over my face.
My shirt is sticking to my back, and I almost reach for the hem and pull it off over my head, but I forego the urge and try to ignore the fact it’s drenched through.
Caleb leans in, his lips brushing mine, not in the least bit bothered I’m a sweaty mess.
“Missed you,” he says, pulling back.
“I missed you too,” I reply, meaning it.
He studies my face. “You look tired,” he comments. I shrug as I turn to undo the straps of my gloves.
“The conference was busy,” I reply, and internally cringe simultaneously, ashamed of my half-truth.
“Hmm, how about we have that getaway this weekend? Go to Torquay.”
As much as I want to say yes, I know I can’t, not with this hanging over my head.
“How about the end of the month,” I suggest instead. By then, I’ll know the outcome of the biopsy.
“Sounds good. I’ll let Jessica know to pencil it in.”
“Pencil what in?” Jessica asks. As she walks in, I turn towards her voice, clad in her Marvel pyjamas and fluffy socks. Walking straight up to me, she goes up on tiptoes to give me a chaste kiss.
“Torquay, at the end of the month, put it on your calendar,” Caleb says.
Jessica raises an eyebrow as she glances at him. “Yes, sir.”
He moves towards her in two steps, his hand moving to grip her hair as he tilts her face towards his—so primal, commanding—my dick twitches from the action.
“You know how much I love it when you call me sir.”
