Page 26 of Quake
11
Juliette
He was right.
Caleb was the one constant in my life that wasn’t complicated or came with added extras.
As I lifted the dumbbells, I was overly conscious of his gaze following my movements as he stood behind me. He had to watch my body so he could correct any mistakes I might inadvertently make. The whole point was to build muscle in the right places. Muscle in my upper body meant I could punch a would-be attacker harder, and maybe,just maybe, it would mean I could protect my heart better than I’d been doing.
I did feel stronger. Not just in the physical sense—the regular exercisehadinvigorated a long-lost energy—but mentally as well.
“You’re feeling better today?” I asked, dancing a fine line. No matter what I did, I still wanted to hear him talk.
Caleb grunted then stepped around the bench so I could see him.
“Much,” he said. “It was just a flare-up. I know how to manage it.”
I nodded, not needing the explanation.
“I Googled you,” I blurted, and he stiffened, his smile fading. “I mean, I didn’t end up reading anything. I just wanted to know if you were who you said you were… Back when you first asked…Fuck it.” I was such an awkward fool. Why the hell did I tell him that?
“So you didn’t spend hours memorizing my Wikipedia page?” he asked with a smirk.
“No, I…” I shook my head, my cheeks heating. “I didn’t.”
“I’m disappointed,” he said with a chuckle.
“No, you’re not.”
Caleb smiled, some of the tension my admission had created easing from his shoulders. Whatever had happened with his injury—his back from what I could tell—it didn’t sit well with him. From the things he’d mentioned in passing, I suspected it’d ended his career or, at least, put a long hiatus on it.
After a moment and a few more repetitions from me, Caleb sat beside me. “What did you want to know?”
“Just…” I sighed, cursing my stupid curiosity. “Forget about it.” He didn’t have to say a single thing about it to me. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past, only what came next.
“Injury ended my career prematurely,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “I won a belt a few years ago, then I was injured in my second title fight and couldn’t continue. That’s how I ended up here.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “It happens.”
I could tell there was more to the story than he was letting on, but I didn’t press. If I pressed, I’d have to reciprocate, and I was not ready for that. It was completely selfish, but he’d said he liked the fact that our relationship was uncomplicated. We were on the same wavelength in that regard.
Caleb had never asked about what had originally brought me to Beat, though I could see the question in his eyes every time I had a phase out. Still, he’d never brought it up. Ever.
Caleb rose to his feet and pried the dumbbells out of my hands, the abrupt movement causing me to flinch slightly.
“Let’s get you on a bag,” he declared, setting the weights aside.
“What for?” I stared at him, the feeling of his fingers brushing against mine seared into the deepest parts of my muscle memory.
“Strength assessment,” was his reply.
Following him out of the weight room, I saw the studio had emptied out while we were in the weight room.
“Those guys who were here,” I began, nodding at the ring. “Do you train them?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Three guys, Gaz, Franklin and Mitch. They’re looking to go pro, so they employ Beat and me to train them while they build up their skills.”
