Page 41 of The Yoga Teacher

Now it belonged to Daniel, too.

Daniel, in that studio.

Daniel, hands on someone else’s body.

Panic started to stir in her chest. A broken, gasping sound escaped her throat.

Her arms buckled.

She collapsed onto her knees, her forehead pressing against the mat.

Hot, stinging tears spilled over.

She curled her fingers into the mat’s surface, gripping it like it could hold her together.

But it couldn’t.

Nothing could.

Yoga had been her peace.

Now, it was ruined.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Daniel

DANIEL LEANED AGAINST the counter in the break room, watching the slow drip of the coffee machine like it held the answers to his life. His head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache that had nothing to do with lack of caffeine and everything to do with the wreckage of his personal life.

It felt like an eternity since Hannah left.

Since she cut him out, erased him, refused to engage.

“You should’ve come out last night," Tristan’s voice cut through, quiet, casual and easy. Too easy. The kind of effortless confidence that came from being twenty-four and untethered.

Daniel glanced at him. Tristan was leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, smirking like a guy who had never lost anything worth holding onto.

"Yeah?" Daniel muttered, lifting his coffee to his lips.

Tristan smiled, shaking his head. “Crazy night." He exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through his hair. "We hit that rooftop bar downtown—girls everywhere."

Daniel took a slow sip, ignoring the way something in his chest clenched.

"I’m telling you," Tristan continued, grinning like he held the secret to happiness, "you and that wife of yours need to come out with us sometime.”

Daniel let out a vague sound—something between a hum and a breath—that didn’t commit to anything at all.

"You should’ve seen this girl I took home," Tristan went on, shaking his head. "Body was out of this world. And she was so into me, man. Like, aggressive about it." He laughed, taking a long sip of his drink. "That’s the best part—when they make it easy for you."

Daniel swallowed, the words landing harder than he expected.

Sienna had made it easy for him.She’d been confident, unapologetic—her interest not wrapped in hesitation or compromise. Young. Hot. Certain.

And she’d wantedhim.

In spite of his age, his stress, his mortgage.

He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t ancient. He was a thirty-year-old guy with money, a good job, and zero responsibilities tying him down.

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