Page 25 of The Yoga Teacher

She washis wife.

She hadmade a commitment.

Shecouldn’t just shut him out.

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He had been prepared for yelling, for screaming, for her to throw things at him.Not this.Not complete and uttersilence.

Daniel exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. He just needed to think. To figure out his next move.

The porch light flicked on.

His head snapped up, hope flaring.

Hannah?

The front door opened again.

Not Hannah.

James.

Daniel waited as his friend stepped outside, moving with slow, deliberate strides.

James wasn’t the loud, aggressive type. He was steady. Measured. Never the first to jump into a fight.

Which made the look on his face even worse.

James didn’t speak.

Didn’t slow.

Not until he was in Daniel’s space and James’ fist was slamming into his gut.

Pain exploded through his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled back, a choked sound escaping as he doubled over, his hand instinctively bracing against the porch railing.

He gasped, trying to suck in air, but his diaphragm wouldn’t cooperate.

James took a step back, shaking out his fist. His expression didn’t change.

“You made your wife cry,” he said. “And that mademywife cry.”

He stared down at Daniel, breath sharp. “You don’t get to make my wife cry, Daniel.”

Daniel coughed, struggling to straighten. His stomach was twisted in pain.

His hands clenched against the car. “I just—I need to see her.”

James’ expression was ice-cold. “What youneedis to leave. Like Mia already told you.”

James had always been his friend.

Daniel swallowed, his ribs aching with each breath. “James—”

“Go home, Daniel.”

A warning. A command.

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