Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

EVEREST

Numb and in shock, I pull my hood over my head and hunch down into the warmth of the puffy coat as I stalk away from the house. There are too many thoughts and emotions all jumbled up inside me that I don’t know what to think or feel. There’s anger about what happened to Ivy. Insult from that kid showing up on our doorstep. Shock over Owen’s response. Arousal still lingering from our against-the-wall kiss. Hurt.

So much hurt. Because of everything. Losing Eden, getting my life turned upside down, and having to deal with Owen being an insufferable asshole every day.

Did I really think I could do this? I was an idiot. Stupid. Dumb. Maybe Owen is right about me being an irresponsible child. Maybe he’s right that I should never have been given custody of Ivy.

Nothing he said today is new. He’s said it all before. Numerous times. I’ve always let it slide off my back because Owen doesn’t fucking know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t know me. He’s never had anything to do with me. Why the hell should I care what the stuck-up prick thinks anyway?

But it’s different this time. Maybe because he kissed me. Or maybe because we’ve been spending so much time together in the past few weeks. Or maybe because I’m still raw over what happened to Ivy. Who the hell knows? Regardless, his words struck. And they struck hard.

I’ve been trying so damn hard to be responsible, to pull my weight and do right by Ivy. I’ve rearranged my work schedule. I haven’t gone out for drinks with the guys in weeks. I’ve basically written off clubbing and hooking up altogether. My entire life now revolves around this little girl and it’s still not enough for Owen.

Nothing I do will ever be enough for him. I will never live up to his impossible standards. I shouldn’t even bother to try. I never have in the past. But for some reason, the thought of proving him right, of meeting his lower-than-low expectations… it feels wrong and icky and suffocating. It feels like giving up.

I’m not afraid of giving up. I’m a pro at knowing when to call it quits and skip town. I just didn’t think I’d want to give up on this—on Ivy.

I find myself in front of the bar down the street from Mars. The guys and I end up here a lot to grab drinks after work. Through the window, I can see some of them at a table near the front. Yes, this is exactly what I need.

Inside, Donnie, the spin instructor, is sitting with Gavin, Beau’s husband and co-owner of the gym, and Christian, one of our top personal trainers. They’re all quite a bit older than me and I don’t usually hang out with them, but they’ve always been nice.

“Hey, guys,” I greet them as I approach their table.

Without prompting, Christian silently pulls out the empty chair next to him and offers it to me. He’s a quiet, unassuming guy. He never seeks out the spotlight, but he’s by far the most popular trainer at the gym.

I slide into it as Gavin shoots me a concerned look.

“I thought you left early today. Logan said there was some emergency with your niece?” he asks.

“I—” The mess of emotions rises up inside me again, choking off my words. I blink rapidly, trying to fight back the tears.

“Is she okay?” Donnie asks.

I nod. “Yeah,” I croak. “She’s fine. Mostly.”

A waiter stops by to take my drink order, and when he leaves, Donnie picks up the thread. “What happened?”

I jump at the chance to unload all the shit that’s been taking up too much space in my head. “Some asshole kid made fun of her because her parents died. And then the kid and his mom show up at our house. Like, what the fuck? We don’t want you here. Go away. The kid gives some half-assed apology and Owen’s all like, ‘Thank you so much. You’re so amazing. We accept your apology. Let’s hang out.’”

Around the table, the guys exchange slightly worried, but mostly confused looks.

“And then!” I cut myself off before continuing. And then we made out and he called me a baby and now my feelings are hurt. Yeah, I’m not saying that out loud. “And then I left. I needed some fresh air.”

I plant my elbows on the table and bow my head to stab my fingers into my hair. A heavy sigh whooshes out of me, almost strong enough to make me drop to the floor.

Christian puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s big and beefy, and the weight of it is so comforting, I can’t help but lean into it. The waiter comes back with my beer and I take a healthy swig before setting it down heavily on the table. All three guys are watching me warily, like I’m about to fall apart on them. I can’t blame them, I feel like I might too.

Even now, I can feel the lingering kiss. The way Owen bit my bottom lip and his tongue invading my mouth. I can still feel the press of his body against mine, the hardness of his erection on my hip. He wanted me. He wanted me, then he pushed me away.

Why did he do that? What does it mean?

Why does he have to be such an asshat all the damn time? No one else in his family is like that. Jeremy was nice , goddamn it. He wasn’t stuck up or arrogant or any of that shit.

Maybe Owen got picked on when he was a kid and it permanently damaged his personality. He probably got dropped on his head. Or I know, he was switched at birth and he’s not actually Jeremy’s brother at all. Because I have a hard time believing the two of them share any of the same genes. They couldn’t be more different.

God, I miss Jeremy. I miss Eden. I miss having my big sister around to tell me what to do. Especially during times like these when everything feels awful and nothing makes sense. She always knew what to say, always knew how to make me feel better.

“Hey!” The cheerful greeting draws me out of my self-imposed pity party.

Wooden chairs scrape across the floor and I look up to find Sawyer and Logan sitting down at the table.

“I thought you went home,” Sawyer says, giving me a friendly punch on the arm.

“Yeah, I did. And then I came back,” I mumble mostly into my beer.

Sawyer’s eyebrows lift, and across the table, Gavin jumps in with a quick, “Owen.”

That’s all the explanation my best friends need. Both Sawyer and Logan nod in understanding.

“Hey, why don’t we go out dancing tonight?” Logan suggests, bouncing in his seat.

I gaze skeptically at him. “Don’t you have a hot FBI agent waiting for you at home?”

He waves away my question. “He’s out on a top-secret mission, so I’ve got nothing else to do.”

Sawyer taps on his phone a few times. “Preston’s going to be at the lab late tonight, so I’m good.”

Logan looks toward the older guys. “You all want to come too?”

The three of them all grimace in distaste.

“Connor would say that I’ve outgrown my clubbing era,” Donnie says.

Christian shakes his head. “Sorry, I only go out when Sebastian makes me.”

“I’m…” Gavin gives us a tight smile. “A no. Thanks for the invite though.”

“Fine. Then it’ll just be the three of us.” Logan claps his hands together excitedly. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

I glance at my friend. I’m not sure I’m in the mood for fun tonight, but maybe that’s exactly what I need. Get out of my own head. Immerse myself in loud music. Get all sweaty on the dance floor. Maybe I’ll even pick up a guy and get my dick wet. God knows it’s been forever since I got laid. Yeah, drowning my sorrows in some alcohol and dancing is starting to sound better and better by the minute.

We all eat dinner at the bar together, then Logan, Sawyer, and I hop into a rideshare and head for the club. It’s too early and on a weeknight, so the club is barely half-full when we arrive. And since none of us are dressed for a night out, the whole vibe feels off.

There’s no energy, no hype. The music is loud, but the sound echoes off the walls, making it noisy and annoying. There’s no crush of people at the bar, but it still takes forever to get the bartender’s attention. By the time we have our drinks and grab one of the empty high-tops, I’m not feeling it anymore. I kind of want to go home.

Sawyer lifts one of the shots he got us. “To forgetting asshole roommates!”

“To forgetting asshole roommates!” Logan parrots, ironic since both of them live with their respective boyfriends.

I don’t bother to point that out, though, since it’ll only remind me just how bad my own situation is. I throw back my shot and the vodka burns on the way down.

“So.” Logan slings an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get you laid!”

I glance around the club—the pickings are slim. “I don’t know…”

“What about that guy?” Sawyer nods to the left and I follow his gaze to a man standing a few feet away.

He’s tall, but slim, wearing a too-tight crop and booty shorts. He’s also young. Like, really young. Like, definitely not legal and shouldn’t be drinking young.

“Dude, I’m not getting arrested for molesting a kid.”

Logan pats my shoulder excitedly. “Ooo, that guy’s hot!” He points to a bear with a bald head, a full beard, and a rounded belly. Some people love that kind of thing, but not me. At least he’s age-appropriate, though.

“Naw, not my type.”

“Over there.” Sawyer eyes one of the VIP booths. “The silver fox.”

The older man is wearing a dress shirt with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s cradling a glass of liquor in one hand, giving off major daddy vibes.

Huh. Not a bad option, checks a lot of boxes, but as I stare at him from across the club, I’m not really feeling it. No curiosity, no interest, no arousal. I can appreciate that he’s a good-looking man, but that’s about it.

“No, not tonight.”

“That guy’s watching you.” Logan’s eyes dart to the right and there’s a dude about our age being really obvious about checking me out.

His shirt is tight. His pants are tight. His hair is artfully messy and his jaw has just enough scruff on it to be deliberate. He’s not too young or too old. Not too big or too small. On any other night, he would be a no-brainer, an automatic yes. Tonight, though… nothing. I’m entirely uninterested. Not even a hint of a spark. My dick is fully asleep, not even a stir.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sawyer asks when I don’t jump on the opportunity.

I shrug. “Nothing? I don’t know. He’s just… not right.”

Logan and Sawyer exchange a look.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Sawyer asks. “You’re never this picky.”

I sigh. “I’m not trying to be picky!”

“Or maybe… you’re more interested in someone else?” Logan suggests in a sing-song voice. “Someone whose name starts with an ‘O’ and ends with a ‘wen’?”

Sawyer snickers and I glare at both of them. “Shut up. I hate you both.”

But that’s when I see him.

A blur of dark hair, neatly combed, a couple inches shorter than me. The shoulders are just wide enough, the waist just narrow enough. He’s wearing a dress shirt, buttoned all the way up, cuffs still secured around his wrists.

My dick stirs and heat pools in my groin. That familiar surge of arousal courses through me. The lights in the club flash, casting shadows across his face.

Recognition sparks and my pulse shoots through the roof. Holy shit. Is that Owen? What the fuck is he doing here? Did he come after me? To find me? To bring me home? How did he even know I where I was?

I take a few steps away from our table then stop, caught between outrage that he thinks he has any claim over me and a strange warmth at the possibility that he cares enough to come looking for me. That maybe he’s sorry about what happened and wants to apologize. That maybe he’s actually a human being who feels shit.

It shocks me—scares me—how much I want that, how much it matters to me.

Then the lights flash again and the man moves out of the shadow. I catch a glimpse of his face and this imaginary scenario I’ve conjured up in my mind—one where Owen isn’t a robotic asshole—shatters into a million pieces.

It’s not Owen. It’s just someone who looks kind of like him.

But that’s almost worse. What does it mean that out of all the men in this club, the only one I have any interest in is an Owen look-alike? Whatever it means, it’s not good.