Page 19

The street traffic is relatively lean today, though I suspect that has more to do with it being Sunday afternoon. Most of the people in town are eating dinner with families. Which is exactly what I’ll be doing in roughly two hours.

Not with my blood relatives, of course. There’s only one of those left, and I haven’t spoken to him in over a decade. Instead, I’ll be eating with the family that found me when I wasn’t looking.

I suppose there’s something poetic about that. A broken man with no reason to live finds people who give him one.

There’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do for Zane, Tessa, Garrison, Katelyn, Sawyer, Anastasia, Weston, Reese, any of their kids, and Momma Knox. They may not be the family I was born into, but they sure are the one I cling to now.

The parking lot of the gym only holds one other truck, and I recognize it instantly as Zane’s. He was the Lieutenant Commander of our Navy SEAL team before we were burned and forced into covert government work.

Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I climb out and lock my truck behind me as I head into the small gym. As I suspected, Zane is the only one here. He’s currently running at a full sprint on one of the treadmills in the back, but when he sees me, he offers a wave and begins to slow while I head into the locker room to change.

After kicking off my boots and stepping out of my jeans, I remove my shirt.

As I do, my gaze catches on a scar that runs the length of my left pectoral muscle—right above my heart.

It’s the oldest scar on my body—and the only one that haunts me to this day.

Emotions burn inside me: regret, grief, guilt…anger. But I shove them aside. It’s been far too long for me to still feel anything, yet it all seems so fresh somehow.

Once more, I close my eyes. “I am washed clean by the blood of the Lamb,” I say out loud. “No schemes of the enemy hold any weight against me. In the name of Jesus Christ, I pray. Amen.”

Stepping into a pair of gym shorts, I head back out into the gym, barefoot and without a shirt, though I do retrieve my hand wraps from the bag before shoving it and my clothes into a free locker. Lately, there’s been a lot more darkness clinging to me. I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with all of my closest friends settling down, while I’m doing everything in my power not to let myself do just that.

Keeping busy is how I keep my sanity.

As much as I hate to admit it, it might be time for a change of scenery. Somewhere I don’t know anyone, and am not reminded on a daily basis that I can never trust myself enough to have all the things I want.

“Hey, Tank,” Zane greets me. He’s already slick with sweat and proceeds to drain the contents of the water bottle in his hand.

“Hey. Let me get warmed up, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah.” But Zane doesn’t look away. “You good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sawyer told me you asked him to stop looking into the woman you pulled out of the water.”

I drop down and start doing pushups. “Of course he did,” I retort. “Sawyer has a big mouth.”

Zane is silent a while, and as soon as I’ve hit my number, I jump up and take off for a quick jog around the gym. When I get back, Zane is still watching me intently. I should have known he’d want to hammer me about this.

Should have known his brother-in-law would call him.

Zane may not technically be in charge anymore, but he’s still very much a leader I respect. And one of the few people who might actually get me to change my mind.

“You ready to get in the ring? We’ve only got an hour before we need to get ready for dinner,” I remind him.

“Great. Then that leaves us time for a conversation, and still fifty minutes for me to teach you a thing or two.”

I snort, though it’s not out of amusement at his threat. I may have Zane by a good few inches in height and a solid forty-pounds—most of it muscle—but he’s quick and capable. And on rare occasions, he’s taken me to the ground.

“I’m not entirely sure what you want to talk about, but it seems cut and dried to me. She was high on drugs that were stolen from the place she worked. The same drugs, mind you, that a resident she was with overdosed on. Then, she drove partly across the state to a town she’s never been and ended up over the edge of a bridge.”

“What about the bruises? Sawyer said you told him they didn’t appear to be from the accident.”

“The doctor seems to think they are.”

“Leopold doesn’t.” He cocks his head to the side and crosses both tattooed arms. “And to be honest, I don’t think you believe that, either. What I don’t understand, though, is why you’re trying so hard to convince yourself otherwise. You’ve never shied away from trouble before.”