Chapter 36
Millie
I enter the gym a few minutes before Creed normally shows up, bag slung over my shoulder. Since Hyde caught me on the fifth floor, I've decided against the elevator and have been taking the emergency staircase instead. So far, no more near-misses.
The overhead lights are dimmed low and “Stutter” by My Darkest Days pulses through my headphones as my eyes swing toward the treadmills.
I’ve been running for months, flight response in highest gear, my past always hot on my tail. I don’t want to run anymore.
I look at the boxing bags next.
My fight response kicked in when Creed wrapped my knuckles for the first time. Fighting’s better than running, right?
It means facing the past head-on, but...
I can’t change what happened, can’t escape it, can’t beat it into something different. What happened, happened. It’ll always be with me, a heavy weight pressing against my chest.
Try your old pieces on, see if they fit. Try new ones, too.
Dr. Quinn’s voice moves through my head. I don’t know what to do with half of what he said, but I understand those words. My eyes move past the benches and cable machines, a new idea forming.
There’s a squat rack in the corner.
I’ve never lifted weights and I’ve no idea where to start, but I move closer, brushing my fingers along the cold bar.
I can either let the weight of my past crush me, or I can learn to carry it without breaking.
Eyeing the different plates, I reach for them and load five kilograms on each side. That’s ten total... probably too light. I add more, change my mind, go back to ten, and fold my hands over my chest, taking a step back, eyebrows drawn.
The bar must weigh a few kilograms, so maybe that plus ten is enough to start with. I step forward again and gasp as a tattooed hand wraps around my waist from behind.
My pulse jumps, then settles when Creed pulls me back into his warm body and slides my headphones down.
He loves grabbing me in the middle, pulling me in, lifting me up, maneuvering me like a rag doll and... I love it too. I love his strength, his size, the stark difference between us. He pulls me in and I damn near disappear in the bulk of him.
Safe from the world.
“Morning, baby,” he says, his mouth ghosting the shell of my ear. “Trying something new?”
“Trying...” I echo, feeling his mouth curve into a smile. “And failing, I think. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He either finds this funny or he’s pleased I’m talking.
Every day, he’s tense and guarded before I open my mouth, like he expects me to shut him out. Now that he told me about his father’s abuse, I’d never punish him with silence no matter how much words cost me sometimes.
I spin, looking into his dark eyes the same way I did yesterday afternoon when I pulled him into an empty lecture hall. His lips came down on mine immediately, that big body pressing me into the wall. Five minutes later, I left on jelly-like legs after he made me come on his fingers.
The day before that, I followed him into his room after our morning workout.
We took a shower together and he buried his cock deep inside me while hot water trailed down our soapy bodies.
I love morning shower-fucks, even if it means we’re usually late to class and I smell like his shower gel, then rush away every time I spot my brother.
“What are you waiting for, Millie?” Creed asks, tipping my chin up. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t wait for my move, his mouth covering mine. He tastes like mint and coffee, and I melt into him, my fingers ghosting his face. A fire starts burning low in my tummy, desire taking over. I step back before we risk getting caught half-naked in the equipment closet again.
A group of guys has started showing up in the mornings, with no rhyme or rhythm to their schedule, so we can’t be certain we'll be alone.
“Is it okay?” I ask, pointing at the weights I’ve prepared.
“It’s light. You can lift more.” He moves, unhooking plates and sliding them on. “Have you done this before?”
“No.”
“Okay.” He tilts his head toward the bar. “Get under it.”
A smile plays across my lips. There’s nothing I love more than his barked orders. Ducking, I get in position, the cold bar settling across my upper back.
“Feet shoulder-width,” he instructs, taking a stance behind me. “Wider, baby.”
A shudder shakes me from head to toe, my mind diving into the gutter. He said that yesterday when he sat me on some professor’s desk and pushed his hand inside my leggings.
Spread your legs, Millie. Wider, baby.
Biting my tongue, I shuffle my feet as instructed.
“Now brace,” he says, moving to the side.
I inhale and lift my shoulders, the weight settling fully onto me. It’s not too heavy, but heavy enough I feel it in my knees.
“Good. Go.”
I lower myself slowly, gritting my teeth as my thighs start to burn. “How much is on here?”
“No talking,” he chides, eyes flicking to my ass once my hips drop. “Give me five.”
Five doesn’t sound like much, but by the third lift, my thighs scream, my breath is shot and sweat mists the back of my neck. My pulse is flying by the fourth, and when I drop once more, my legs shake, and the weight’s pressing me down too hard.
“Calm down, Millie,” Creed says. “You’ve got this, baby. Take a deep breath and get up.”
I let his voice and proximity soothe my growing panic. He’s two steps away, he’ll help if I fail, but I have to at least try.
It’s hard, but I inhale, hold, and force myself up, a broken, relieved sound tearing from my lips once I straighten and step forward, racking the bar.
Creed steps into my line of sight, both hands bracketing my shoulders as I fold into his arms.
“Good girl, Millie. You didn’t quit,” he says, his fingers weaving into my hair.
“I wanted to.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t.”