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Emmit mouthed be good.
I winked.
He rolled his eyes.
My client turned in her paperwork and handed over her card. Emmit rang her up and took the clipboard.
“When can we start?” she asked me while she waited for her card back.
I checked the big overhead clock on the opposite end of the gym. I had a gap between my last client and my next one, so it couldn’t hurt to get a gauge on where she was at skill-wise. “If you’ve got time now, then let’s go.” I tilted my head in the direction of the room with the punching bags where I’d come from. “The sweats and shirt you have on now will be fine. We’ll be going through a few warm-ups and basics so I can see where to begin.”
“I’m looking to be fight ready.” She hiked her duffel bag over her shoulder. “Currently working my way through the rankings in the MMA.” Her blue eyes held an intensity that had me averting my gaze, like she tried to bore clean into my soul.
“Oh, so we’ll have fun,” I responded, my lips quirking. I wasn’t a huge smiler—life liked to kick me in the labia the second I got a little too happy, so I erred on the side of caution. But something about this girl set me at ease. We stopped in front of the room, and I gestured her in. A few clients were doing solo work at the punching bags, but most of the trainers were sparring in other rooms with their clients.
We headed to the far-left corner, one of the spots I usually claimed. “Okay, time for official introductions. I’m Samantha Taylor, and I’ll be your trainer here at Knockout.”
She licked her lips and ducked her head as if she’d suddenly gotten shy. “Amelia Johnson.”
When she looked up and those blue eyes met mine, my heart just about stopped.
Cold rushed through my body in a fierce sweep.
I only knew one Amelia Johnson, but I hadn’t seen her in a decade. Ever since my parents cut off all ties with me when I came out. My skin prickled with chilly sweat, and my hands balled into fists. Part of me was aware I stood there gaping at her, but no amount of MMA skills could break me free from this hold.
The pieces clicked into place—the familiarity about her, the sunshine quality to her features, how comfortable I had felt from the second my gaze landed on her. I hadn’t even recognized her when she’d been over at our place every day growing up to play with Nina.
Fuck, how much had I missed?
My eyes stung the slightest bit, and I sucked in a sharp breath. I was at work and needed to get a hold of myself. Practicing the breathing techniques my therapist had taught me, I focused on counting out my breaths, not caring that the silence stretched longer between us and Amelia stared at me like she witnessed a ghost.
In a way, she did.
That was all I’d ever be to my family, and my parents had ensured that. Even when I’d tried to reach out to Nina when she was older, when I thought I might stand a chance—bile rose in my throat.
“If you need me to go…” Amelia’s voice broke through the silence. She took a step back and jerked a thumb toward the front door.
I sucked in another sharp breath. My nerves still simmered, but my jaw no longer seemed locked. The smart move would be to tell her to go. Find a new gym, a new trainer far away from here.
Except it had been ten years since I’d gotten a scrap of information.
And fuck, part of me wanted to know anything. Even if the news would rip me apart afterward.
“Nah, you’re fine,” I said, rocking on my heels to expel some of the nervous energy rolling through me. My mouth was dry as hell, but I needed to pull myself together. I hadn’t spent the last decade in therapy to freeze up like some fucking coward the moment a hint of my past entered the picture. Shame dripped down my insides like wet paint I couldn’t scrub off, no matter how hard I tried. “Been a minute, hasn’t it?”
More than a fucking minute. My baby sister, Nina, was eleven years younger, and she and Amelia had always been joined at the hip. But I’d been off doing my own thing, getting into the MMA scene, building a name for myself. And then I’d been out of her life from the tender age of twelve onward. No wonder I hadn’t recognized Ames. She had been a preteen then, all elbows and knees, and had barely begun to hit puberty.
“Yeah, just a smidge.” She licked her lips again. My body took a zing of interest without my permission. This was someone I’d known as a kid, but the way her hips had filled out like two perfect handles, and her tits strained against her tank top… Fuck, I felt like one dirty old bitch.
Amelia Johnson was a fucking smokeshow now.
“So,” I said, needing to focus on my damn job here, no matter how much my insides spun. “If you’re not a beginner, is it safe to assume you’ll be here six days a week?”
Amelia straightened up. “I intend to. I’m used to alternating high and low days, though I’ve been slacking the past few weeks, since I spent the time moving.” Her eyes darkened, and the slight defensive squaring of her shoulders had my radar pinging.
The questions lingered on the tip of my tongue, but it wasn’t my place to ask. This wasn’t Nina’s best friend—this was a client. Really, if I were being professional, I should hand her over to another trainer.
Except part of me craved this contact from my past, even though it splashed salt water on those wounds that had never truly closed.
