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His feet pound the pavement in perfect time with mine, breaths even and steady. As far as jogging partners go, Mylo is one of the best I’ve had. He matches my pace, knows when to push me harder and when to let me plug in my earphones and do my own thing. The only thing he doesn’t know, unfortunately, is when I need to run alone. When I need to figure out the mess in my head.
It’s been a week. A week of smooth sailing and zero drama. It’s also been a week of me not asking any questions deeper thanwhat’s for dinner?Orhow was your day?I know he shared, and I know how much it cost him, but now I don’t know if I’m allowed what I’m allowed to ask about or even if I can check in after a nightmare. Because there have been more. He tries not to wake me, and I pretend he succeeds when all I want to do is make it better.
We round the curve in the path to the gym, slowing our pace until we come to a stop at the double doors with advertisements for classes and PTs and a gazillion other things taped to the glass.
Rae’s already there, leaning by the side of the entrance, one foot against the wall, typing something into her cell, face creased in concentration. She glances up and her eyes scrunch with her grin when she sees us.
“Morning, campers.” She pushes off the wall and her oversized T-shirt drops to mid-thigh covering her shorts. The wide neckline slides down her shoulder as she tucks her phone into the front pocket of her gym bag, but she jerks it back up, the massive knot of auburn hair on the top of her head flopping forward with the movement.
“Rae,” Mylo rumbles from beside me, lifts his chin, his hand sliding around my waist, settling on the bare skin between my cropped sports top and my running shorts.
“Jeez.” She grins up at him. “Seriously, you two, it’s like looking at the sun. Off you go, Thor, your woman is mine now.”
His chuckle is rough, vibrating from his side into mine. But before he goes, he shifts the hand on my waist up to the back of my neck and tugs me to him, kissing me with an easiness that makes my knees weak and my cheeks hot. The man has a kiss that puts all other men to shame. And he does iteverywhere. And I don’t just mean that in a geographical sense, though that too… I mean me. On me.Everywhereon me.
“I’ll see you in there.” He scans my face once more, then releases me with a smirk. He so knows what those kisses do to me.
We both watch him push through the doors into the gym, massive muscles rolling beneath the thin material of his sleeveless T-shirt.
“Woman,” Rae links her arms with mine and leans her head onto my shoulder. “We need a wine night. I need details, graphic, blow by blow details. I’ll take videos too if you have them.”
I laugh and let her pull me into the gym too. “Are you still on for the dinner tonight?” I ask as the doors swing shut behind us, and we’re engulfed in lovely cool air conditioning, even if it does smell like man sweat and old leather. My skin goosepimples. Rae’s does too beneath my palm.
“Is sergeant Kill Joy still going?” She’s asking me, but her gaze is firmly fixed on where Mylo is already climbing into the boxing ring with Jackson.
“He is, Maika too.” I drop my bag on the floor and pull first one arm, then the next across my chest to stretch out my shoulders. “I’ll sit you on opposite sides of the table, don’t worry.”
“Sit me right next to them if you want, I can be civilized.” She turns back to me. “But enough about that. Let’s talk sexing.” She jerks the neck of her T-shirt back up her arm again. But not before I see the deep purple mark on her bicep.
My eyes shoot to hers. “Rae? Is that a bruise?”
She rubs the spot through her T-shirt but smirks, eyebrows wiggling. “The first rule of fight club?”
“Don’t talk about fight club,” I deadpan. “I still can’t believe you fight with people.” I glance at her arm once more. “Take up yoga like normal people with anger issues.”
Her face lights with her smile. “Because my issue isn’t anger, sweet, it’srage.” Her cackle draws most of the eyes in the gym. Including Jackson’s. “I’m joking, I’m joking, it’s no different than an MMA class, but Cluan and more badass. You dance traditional, Ifighttraditional. Same, same. Bruises happen in both.”
“Not the same thing at all.” I frown dubiously. “Just be careful.”
“Scout’s honor. Okay, grab a rope, let’s warm up.”
I grab a jump rope with weighted handles from where they’re hanging over the end of a rack of dumbbells and hand her some too. We start skipping side by side, facing where Mylo is already sparring with Jackson in the ring. Our ropes tick off the rubber floor not quite in time with each other. Tick-tick, tick-tick. Tick-tick. Minutes pass. My breathing stays steady, but my mind won’t settle. “Rae, can I ask you a question?”
“Anything?” She turns to look at me, but keeps up her skipping, hopping from one foot to the other easily.
I slow my rope until it’s caught behind my feet and glance between her and the ring. “Actually, no, Nothing. It’s nothing.” I swing the rope and start again.
She keeps up her fast momentum, her pale cheeks slightly flushed, her forehead creased. “What’s up?
I blow out slowly and shake my head but keep skipping, my muscles already warm from the jog here. “Forget about it. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Work. Work. Kicking ass and more work.” She finally stops with the concerned staring and speeds her rope, the massive knot of hair on her head wobbling with every jump. “Which is why we should be talking about you and Thor the Viking man mountain over there instead of my boring excuse of a life.”
“We don’t talk,” I blurt out, miss my jump, and almost trip on the rope. “I mean we do,talk, but…” I turn slightly so my back’s to the boxing ring, feeling like an ass for complaining when this last week has been filled with more sex and affection and laughter… and other kinds of talking that makes my toes curl… than I’ve ever had with anyone. Except for the nights he wakes up sweating and shaking and cursing into the darkness. The nights I just lie there and listen to him fight to take control of whatever it is that’s tormenting him, too scared to open my mouth and be shot down for prying.
Rae slows to a stop way more graceful than mine, throws her rope over the weight rack, then slides a pair of fingerless lifting gloves from her back pocket and wiggles her fingers into them. “Imma need more information than that, Zi.” She grabs a couple of dumbbells for me and some bigger ones for herself. “Curlandtalk. I swear if that big lug is treating you bad, he’s gonna have me to answer to.”
“Rae,” I warn, curling first one dumbbell up to my shoulder, then the other. “Don’t. It’s fine. Better than fine. It’s just…” I sigh and lower both dumbbells. “Any time the conversation gets even nearly serious he…” I bite the side of my lip. “I think he’s distracting me with sex. And I think something is going on at home, he keeps calling his sister, but getting no answer. He brushes it off, but it’s weird. He never talks about his past and…” I sigh so hard my shoulders drop. “I’m worried he’s just gonna up and leave again.”
