Page 22 of Deathless
Time ceased to exist as I pushed my body to the limit. Maybe I had spectators, maybe I was hogging the squat rack while someone else waited. I didn’t know or care. My whole world wasreduced to adding more weight, seeing how much more I could take.
Lifting used to a fight to the death with myself. I constantly strived to be stronger, better. Because when I could always lift more, it meant I wasn’t enough yet.
Never strong enough. Never good enough. That’s why they left you to die. That’s why Rori’s family had to take you in like a stray dog.
The exertion was a punishment as well as a reward. I got stronger over time despite feeling like I was going to die after every workout. It became an addiction, a punishment I craved and sought out. Like my parents’ abandonment of me wasn’t punishment enough.
But now I had Rori who believed I was good enough. She loved me.Actuallyloved me.
Was I really though? When she’d told me countless times since we got together that she loved me? When she came back for me and Santos, made me her VP, listened to my advice, had been there for me through thick and thin over the years? Was I really good enough if I couldn’t bring myself to repeat the same three simple words to her?
Why did it have to be anything but easy for me? Three single-syllable words held the weight of my whole heart, which felt heavier and more dangerous than the plates on this fucking barbell. The risk of saying those words out loud felt like dropping all that weight right onto my toes.
I knew it was dramatic. It was my subconscious drawing on fears from my childhood. Shit, maybe I needed to talk to Malik more than Rori. She’d never been afraid of putting her heart out there. And I knew, even though I continued failing at expressing what I really meant, she’d never give up on me.
All my shortcomings as a partner made me damn glad she had Santos to make up for it. He was like her, fearless aboutloving wholeheartedly with no hang ups about saying it. Even after seeing the worst of humanity, of women especially, none of that stopped him from falling headfirst for her and letting her know it. I could learn a thing or two from him.
By the time my legs were screaming, I felt mentally lighter. I was a constant work in progress and the one Rori had left in charge. Sometimes it wasn’t good to stay stuck in my mental hamster wheel all the time. What a concept.
Motion caught my eye as I set the barbell on the catches, and I looked over while I caught my breath.Well, speaking of hamsters in enclosures.
Hudson had not only left his room but the house. He was outside, in the open.
Trying not to stare, I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my arm. He was using another barbell rack to stretch his shoulders, from the looks of it. He had a T-shirt and athletic shorts on, and the vast majority of his skin was covered in tattoos. Good ones too. The kind that rivaled the quality of mine, done by Rori’s dad.
My curiosity piqued even more when he reclined on the bench under the rack, scooting and adjusting it for his reach. After a few warm-up reps with just the barbell, Hudson rolled up and added two plates to each side.
My eyebrows shot up. Two plates. Two hundred and twenty-five pounds. It wasn’t an enormous amount of weight, but definitely a lot to start out with. Especially for a guy who didn’t look like he weighed two-twenty-five and had spent years confined to a single room.
“Hey.” I headed over before I could think twice. “Hudson, right?”
He could have been squinting in the sunlight or glaring at me, it was hard to tell. “Yeah?”
“You want a spot?” I gestured to the bar.
He shrugged like it didn’t make a difference to him. “If you want to.”
I went behind the rack as he reclined on the bench, his head near my knees. Once he found his grip, I braced myself, ready to stop the barbell from crushing his Adam’s apple once he realized it was too much damn weight.
To my surprise, the lower and lift of each rep was incredibly smooth and controlled. As was his breathing and his form. The guy knew what he was doing, maybe even better than me.
He did a set of ten like it was warm-up before setting the bar back on its catches.
“Well, shit.” I laughed as he rolled up. “You had me worried when you loaded those two plates, but guess I underestimated you.”
Hudson shrugged and brought his arms behind him to stretch again. “I used to compete a little bit, just amateur stuff. It was a hobby.”
“I mean, it’s a hobby for me too but I’ve never warmed up with that much.” I came around to the front of him, sticking my hand out. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Torrance. Everyone calls me Torr.”
Hudson hesitated, staring up at me for a moment before clasping my hand. “You’re the second in command. To her.”
“That’s right.”
Hudson rested his hands on his thighs, elbows flared out in a pose that looked a little defensive. “Gotta admit, I’m surprised you offered to spot me instead of bashing my head in with one of those plates. Or is that still on the table?”
I crossed my arms, taking my time to answer. “I’m not interested in bludgeoning you to death, no.”
“And the woman?”
