Page 80 of Knot for Me
I glance at him when he corrects me, realizing my shoulders have bunched. “Thanks.”
He nods and goes back to his workout.
As much as the companionable silence bothers me, I can’t bring myself to leave. Working out with him is the most normal I’ve felt since what happened this morning. I cling to the feeling. Soon enough, everything will change.
“Want to spar?” he asks, lifting one eyebrow.
“Sure.” I rack my dumbbells and follow him to the mats on the other side of the gym. He tosses me some gloves and slips on focus mitts. “I thought we were sparring?”
“I changed my mind. Hit me.” He holds the mitts up. “Jab, cross, hook, jab.”
“I’ve never been good at boxing,” I tell him, getting into the fighting stance I learned at the local gym I used to go to from time to time. “My arms get all mixed up.”
“It doesn’t matter. So long as you’re throwing punches, it’ll work.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod and try to do the combination he mentioned. I get it the first time, but the second time I mess up and throw three jabs. I huff in frustration.
“It’s okay. Imagine you’re hitting Cornelius. Maybe that’ll help you relax. If you mess up, just start again.”
“You want me to picture hitting the head of the Royal Council?” I ask in disbelief, dropping my arms.
“It’ll help. Trust me, I’ve done it before. Cornelius tries to force his will on occasion, and the easiest way to get over the anger is to beat him up. Or at least imagining it.” He grins.
“I feel like this is treason,” I say, shaking my head. “But all right. I’ll give it a try.” I raise my hands to my face and work through the combination, a wicked pinch between my eyebrows as I imagine popping dear old dad in the face.
I mess up, but I take Marco’s advice and start over. Fifteen minutes later, after he added a kick into the combination, I’m drenched in sweat and not nearly as pissed. I’m still upset, don’t get me wrong, but it’s less combustible. My rage is an easy simmer now, something I can handle without exploding on the wrong person.
Marco bumps me as we head to put our equipment up. “See. I knew you liked it rough.”
“You’re a hopeless flirt.” I roll my eyes and put my hands on my hips.
“Only for you,” he says with a wink.
“You shouldn’t do that.” Pressing my lips together, I move my gaze over his shoulder. “It’ll only make it harder.”
He steps closer, but I keep my eyes trained on the wall. His finger bumps my chin, tipping my head up. I glare at him, ready to lay into him about what a horrible idea all of this is, but the look of pure agony on his face stops me.
“I want to do it,” he whispers, leaning toward me. “I want to do everything I shouldn’t, Reagan.”
Swallowing, I take a step away. “Marco,” I say, then pause. What can I give him?
Nothing, that’s what.
“I have to go,” I finally say. “Thanks for the workout.”
With as much dignity as I can, I walk out of the gym. I chew on my cheek to keep from saying words that should never be spoken. If I tell him I want him to break the rules, that I wanthim, in the end I’ll only end up hurting him. I like him too much to be the reason his heart breaks. I already hurt Lucas with my freak out, and I refuse to do that to anyone else.
So, I walk away.
* * *
Their days off come and go. There are no movie nights or shared drinks. We tiptoe around each other. It’s frustrating but for the best. I trained with Marco on Monday, but that was the last time he flirted. I ran into Lucas in the hallway, but he simply nodded and continued on his way. Cory hasn’t been in the library. That probably bothers me most of all.
“Hey, Frank,” I greet the security guard they hired. He’s been a silent shadow in the house, and he doesn’t react when I pass by. I would think he was a statue, but I saw him scratch his nose yesterday.
The one thing that hasn’t changed is the food. Fresh muffins are on the counter. It’s Tuesday and the guys have already left for work. I heave out a heavy breath, grab a mug for coffee, and take my muffin to the table. Frank stands right outside the room, gaze carefully moving back and forth in measured sweeps.
“Hungry, Frank?”
