Chapter 34 Crew
Crew
The sound of someone’s body hitting the training mat echoes through the basement.
I creep down, watching Lottie move with precision, her body a blur of control and grace. Claire circles her, testing, taunting, pushing her to the edge like she always does. Every movement between them is deliberate.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look like I’m just observing. Truth is, I can’t take my eyes off her.
The sweat on her skin catches the light as she moves. Her hair’s tied back, but strands still cling to her face, framing the sharp determination in her eyes. Claire strikes high, and Lottie ducks under her arm, sweeping her legs out, moving faster, sharper.
She’s getting stronger, and it should make me proud.
It does, but it also terrifies me, because strength means she’ll keep putting herself in danger, keep training for something she shouldn’t have to face again.
Claire finally calls it. Lottie stands in the middle of the mat, panting, her chest rising and falling fast. Claire gives her a nod of approval before heading toward the rack to rewrap her hands.
Lottie notices me then.
She tilts her head, her lips twitching in that small smile that still hits me like a freight train.
“You were watching,” she rasps out, voice breathless.
I shrug, trying not to let my chest tighten too much. “You’re hard to look away from.”
Her eyes narrow, amused. “That supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s the truth.”
Claire tosses a towel in Lottie’s direction. “You’ve got good instincts, but you’re still hesitating.”
Lottie nods, wiping sweat from her jaw. “I know. That’s why I need to train with someone stronger.”
Claire glances over her shoulder at me, like she knows where this is going before either of us say it. “You volunteering, Crew?”
I push off the wall. “If she’s up for it.”
Lottie’s gaze flicks between us, something unreadable behind her eyes. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
Claire doesn’t linger. She knows when to give space. She grabs her bag and heads for the stairs, “Don’t go easy on her. She hates that.” She calls back.
When she’s gone, it’s quiet. Just the sound of Lottie’s breathing evening out, and mine getting harsher from being so close to her alone.
I step onto the mat and stretch my shoulders, keeping my movements deliberate. Slow, calm, like I’m not thinking about the way her shirt clings to her every curve, or the way she looks like she’d fit perfectly into my arms.
“Same rules?” I ask.
Lottie’s lip twitch. “You mean the ones Will set about not breaking me?”
“You’re much tougher than I am, baby.”
She grins, and I feel like I’ve achieved something. “You always were a bad liar, Crew.”
We circle each other for a few seconds before she moves quickly. A jab, then a kick. I block the first, catch the second. Her foot presses into my palm, balance shifting, and she uses that to twist and bring her elbow towards my jaw.
She’s good… really good.
I barely dodge it.
Her bare feet skid against the mat as she regains balance, and she smirks, breathless. “You’re slower than Claire.”
“Claire’s meaner,” I shoot back.
“Yeah, but you hit harder.”
We go again.
Each exchange is faster than the last. She’s learning my rhythm, adapting.
Her punches snap through the air. I let her push me and keep up with her, but I didn’t overwhelm her.
Then she catches me off guard, she ducks low, sweeps my leg, and I hit the mat flat on my back with a thud that knocks the air out of me.
Her laugh fills the basement. “Got you.”
I look up at her, the light catching the sheen of sweat on her collarbone. “You did.”
She crouches down next to me, eyes bright with pride. “You weren’t supposed to take it easy on me.”
“Only when I love my opponent,” I say without thinking.
Her smile falters for a second. Then she looks down, pretending to study the mat. “You used to call me Piglet.”
I blink, the shift catching me off guard. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why don’t you anymore?” she asks, eyes still fixed on the floor. Her tone isn’t accusing, it’s quiet. Curious. But the kind of curiosity that’s heavier than it sounds.
I sit up slowly, keeping my distance but close enough that she can see I’m not running from the question.
“I called you that because you used to stutter when we were kids,” I say. “You were small and shy, and it felt like a thing between us. Something only I got to say. But later…” I trail off, jaw tightening. “Later, it stopped being cute. I used it to make you feel small.”
Lottie looks up, and for the first time in a long time, I see the weight behind her eyes… not anger, or hurt, just the same understanding I used to see when we were younger. “We were young, Crew. Things were tough. I’m not excusing it, but it’s different now. I’ve forgiven you.”
“I know,” I say, “And I don’t want to use something that I used to hurt you. I want something new. Something that’s just us, not the bullshit of the past, now that I finally have a chance with you.”
Her throat works like she’s swallowing something hard, then she leans back on her heels. “You’re clean now. You’re here, and present, and you’ve let me get revenge on you and never once complained.”
I shrug. “It’s hot, and being clean only matters if I stay that way. For me, and for you.”
The silence stretches between us, not awkward, just there. Then she shifts closer, just a little. Her knees brush mine…. It’s such a small touch, but my whole body goes still. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you like this again,” she whispers softly.
“Like what?”
She gestures at me. “Like Crew. The boy who understood me in ways no one else did.”
I exhale, hard. “I never thought I’d see him again either,” I tell her. “The part of me that hurt you, he’s gone. I’m not him anymore. I don’t think I could be if I tried.”
Her eyes flicker over my face, lingering. “You really mean that.”
Not a question. A statement.
“I do.”
Something breaks, or maybe it mends. She leans forward first, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath against my cheek.
I don’t move. I don’t dare. Every muscle in my body is tight, waiting, wanting, terrified of ruining it.
“You still make me crazy.”
I smile a small but genuine smile. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
Her lips twitch. “Both.”
Her fingers trace a line down my forearm, light as air, and the contact lights me up from the inside. I reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. My knuckles graze her jaw, and she closes her eyes for a second, breathing me in.
When she opens them again, she’s looking right through me — like she can see every version of who I used to be and who I’m trying to become.
“I love you, you know.”
Her breath catches.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and for a second, I think maybe I shouldn’t have said it. Then she leans in, pressing her forehead to mine. “I love you too.”
It’s barely a whisper, but it gets me higher than any drug ever could.
It’s barely a whisper, but it hits me harder than any punch ever could.
I let out a shaky breath, my hands finding her waist, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t.
She tilts her head, and our noses brush. Her fingers rest against my chest, tracing the beat of my heart. “You’re shaking,” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I laugh softly. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”
“You mean this?”
“This. Us. Being able to tell you how I feel without screwing it up.”
She smiles. “You didn’t screw it up.”
We stay like that for a while, suspended in the quiet. Two people who’ve both been broken in different ways. Finally, she leans back just enough to look at me. “So… what are we, Crew?”
I meet her eyes. “I don’t want to just do this half-assed. I want to love you just like the others get too.”
“You want to be my boyfriend?” She teases.
I laugh, a little nervous. “Yeah. I guess that’s the word for it.”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I don’t know. I might have to check with the others.”
I groan. “You’re evil.”
She laughs then, really laughs, the kind of sound that makes my chest ache. “I’m kidding. I’d like that, Crew. I’d really like that.”
The words settle into me, and I reach for her hand again, threading my fingers through hers.
She fits there like she always has, grounding me in a way nothing else ever has.
For a moment, I think about everything—the years we lost, the damage I caused, the way she still chooses to see me anyway. I think about how she’s with Archer and Oscar, how she’s slowly finding her way back to Elijah and maybe even Roman, and somehow… I’m okay with that.
Because she deserves every kind of love she can get.
“Hey,” she says suddenly, eyes glinting with mischief. “You gonna help me train or just stare at me all day?”
I grin, pushing to my feet and offering her a hand up. “Both.” She rolls her eyes but takes my hand.
We go again.
Strike, block, pivot.
Her laughter mixes with the sound of our movements. When we’re both breathless and grinning, I catch her wrist mid-swing, pulling her a little too close. Her chest brushes mine, and neither of us moves.
In one motion, I close the distance between us. My hands are on her face, cupping her jaw, my thumbs stroking the high arches of her cheekbones. My mouth crashes down on hers. This isn’t like when everyone else was in the room. That somehow felt easier.
This is something else.
It’s a claiming.
It’s a promise.
She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, my tongue sweeping against hers.
I taste the faint, sharp hint of her sports drink and the pure, clean taste of her.
Her hands come up, not to push me away, but to fist in the damp fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer until our chests are pressed together.
I break the kiss, breathing hard. Her lips are already swollen, her eyes glazed. "I'm not going to be gentle, Lottie," I warn her, my voice a low growl I barely recognize. "Not right now."
A shiver runs through her. "Good," she breathes, and the raw want in that single word undoes me completely.