Page 12
Through the mirror, I see my reflection: tangled hair, determined eyes, a mouth that looks like it’s done apologizing. I look like someone I’m beginning to recognize, someone who survived and plans to keep surviving.
The ring pulls my attention, its canvas marked by countless fighters. Soon, that will be me. Not a victim learning to survive, but a fighter ready to win.
I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the gym’s air, and wait for my lesson to begin.
I watch him work from my bench, tracking his movements with focused precision. He’s different here, not the gentle man who held me weeks ago. Here, Carter is all sharp commands and precise moves, flowing through his domain.
“Keep your guard up,” he snaps at a lanky kid who’s around seventeen. “That’s not a suggestion.”
The kid blushes but obeys, raising his hands higher. Carter adjusts the stance with quick, sure touches, then steps back to observe. Approval comes with a single nod before he moves on.
I notice Matthew in the corner, arms crossed, watching me watch Carter. His expression is guarded, but when our eyes meet, he gives me a small nod. Not approval, exactly, but close enough.
“Hey, trouble.”
I glance up to find Carter’s dad, Kane, beside me, a slow smile touching his rugged face. The former Navy SEAL exudes the kind of quiet confidence that comes from seeing it all and staying unimpressed.
“Hi, Kane.” I shift over on the bench. “Busy day?”
“Always.” He settles in, eyes tracking Carter across the room. “Heard you’re starting lessons.”
Word gets around fast. “Just self-defense. Carter’s going to teach me.”
Kane nods slowly, still watching his son. “Good. About time.”
I blink. “About time?”
“He’s a good man,” Kane says, like he’s talking about the weather. “He’s had his eye on you for a long time. Glad to see him finally making a move. Don’t let him screw it up.”
My cheeks warm. “He told me. Three weeks ago.”
Kane raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I told him I felt the same.” I can’t help but grin. “But then things happened, and we’ve been… taking it slow.”
Kane grunts, a noise with layers. “Smart. You know, my wife, Sydney, is a fantastic fighter. If you prefer a female instructor, just say the word.”
I burst out laughing, picturing those two whirlwinds tearing through the school halls.
Carter strides over, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Up close, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw works like he’s holding back words.
“You sure about this?” he murmurs, only for me. “You can still back out. No shame.”
It’s tempting to retreat, let others handle the danger. But memories of that barn, Evan’s gun on Morgan’s head and my own helplessness, spark something strong inside me.
“I’m sure,” I say, standing to meet him. Well, eye to chest, given my height. “I need this, Carter. Not just for safety. To feel like myself again.”
His eyes soften to the point that makes him look almost vulnerable. “Then let’s get started.”
He leads me to a cleared spot on the gym floor, away from others. A heavy awareness hangs in the space between us, filled with everything unsaid since that morning.
“First thing,” he begins, all business, “let’s assess where you’re at physically. Any limitations?”
I straighten up, trying to project confidence. “I’m cleared for everything. Doctor said so.”
His eyes fall to the bruise on my shoulder, then the fading marks on my thighs. I know what he’s thinking, that my body’s been through enough, that he doesn’t want to add to my pain.
“I can handle it,” I assure him, reading his hesitation.
