Chapter 13
13
WREN
M y gut tightens more the higher the sun rises and the brighter the light streaming in the front windows of the studio becomes. Even with the film on them to try to keep the room cooler at the height of the day, the extending rays mean it’s official—Early Bird Pilates is open for business.
Somehow, I managed to do it in less than two weeks—on top of grappling with a mob boss threat and Atlas’ overbearing nature.
I should be thrilled.
I should be excited to have this venture finally happening.
But instead, a cool rock of dread sits heavy in my stomach, that little voice of doubt that I can’t seem to shut up screaming in the back of my mind.
I peek over my shoulder at Atlas, where he stands a few feet behind me, watching the sunrise before he goes next door for his morning training session. “What if no one comes?”
He offers me a half-smile and steps forward, wrapping his arms around me from me behind, tugging me against him. Warm lips press to the side of my neck, traveling over the edges of my scars. “You worry too much.”
“Do I, though?” I keep watching the street, that nagging feeling that I’ve completely failed at this already creeping in even deeper despite Altas’ best efforts to keep it at bay. “I haven’t been doing nearly enough to advertise this last week and a half when I’ve been setting things up.”
His lips feather over my ear, sending a shudder through me as memories of all the ways he found not to have sex over the last two days flash through my head. “I already told you that the girls have been working on it.”
Doing my job.
Just like they created my website for me.
As if called by his words, a line of cars pull up in front of the studio, and one by one, each of the Hawke women climb from them, all in athletic gear with bags slung over their shoulders.
I peek at Atlas. “Did you know they were coming?”
He grins and presses a kiss on my cheek. “Yep. I’ll see you later. I have to go let your grandfather kick my ass.”
“Be nice to him.”
Atlas smirks before he disappears in the door that separates the studio from the gym, and the studio door flies open with a line of chatting, excited women.
Kennedy barrels in first and throws her arms around me before I can even say hi. “I am so excited for my first class, but you better take it easy on me.”
“I wasn’t expecting all of you guys.”
She releases me and pulls back with a grin. “I know.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “But we figured we would be your first customers.”
The rest of the Hawke women file in, each one giving me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before they all find a reformer and drop their bags along the wall beside them.
Astrid brings up the rear of the line and stops, giving me a smirk. “If we did our jobs, every single one of your classes will be full today.”
Her words register slowly. “What?”
She elbows me playfully. “The Hawkes have a lot of friends in town. We made a lot of phone calls over the weekend and booked up your classes for this entire week.”
Which explains the flurry of notifications on my phone yesterday that I didn’t have time to examine when I came up for air between “non-sex” sessions with Atlas.
The calendar bookings…
“But…” My eyes start to burn, and I can’t seem to collect my thoughts into anything resembling coherent words.
They did all this for me.
“No tears.” Astrid squeezes my arms. “Be happy.”
“I am happy. I just… Wow. Thank you.”
Kennedy twists her hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, I can’t guarantee they’ll all stay clients if you kick their asses and make them hate you—”
Astrid gives her cousin a dirty look. “Don’t listen to Kennedy. She needs a good ass-kicking every once in a while, and Atlas sure isn’t giving it to her in the ring anymore.” She winces as soon as she says the words, then leans in. “Pretend I didn’t say that. It came out really wrong.”
I shake my head and give her a tight smile. “No, it’s okay. Really, I get what you mean.”
So many of the Hawkes used to enjoy a “friendly” sparring session with Atlas, but since the shooting, things have changed. He couldn’t expend energy on anything other than serious work to get back into ring shape.
His sister leans forward and throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Please help him.”
She barely whispers the words in my ear, but it’s enough to constrict my heart so much that it feels like it might explode. Astrid is trusting me with her twin brother, trusting me to ensure that he’s going to stay healthy and make as much of a recovery as he can before his fight so that he doesn’t step into that ring and get fucking killed the way her grandfather was.
“I’m trying.”
Stepping back, she swipes her own tear away and takes a spot at the last open reformer in the two parallel rows of five.
I clear my throat to try to dislodge the emotion choking me, then turn to the entire female delegation of the Hawke family with a bright smile. “Well, good morning, class.”
They all chuckle lightly—some adjusting their sportswear while others work to get their hair pulled up and out of the way.
“How many of you have done Pilates before?”
Not a single one raises their hands.
I clap and waggle my eyebrows. “Oh, good, virgins .”
Bishop barks out a laugh. “I don’t think any of us are that.”
Caroline gives her daughter a chastising look. “I don’t need to hear that from you.”
Amused bourbon eyes meet Caroline’s. “What? Like you thought I was some celestial virgin?”
As much as I’m enjoying the banter, if I don’t put a stop to it, we’ll never get to the actual class .
I stand at the center of the room, eying each of them reproachfully. “First rule in the studio is no talking during class, ladies.”
They quickly stand up straight and try to hide their laughs.
“But we will have some fun today, and I promise you’ll leave with shaky legs and arms and feeling like you got a good workout.”
This time, Kennedy’s laughter fills the studio space. “Is that what Atlas was doing with you yesterday to make you miss Sunday dinner? Giving you a good workout?”
Dani gapes at her daughter. “Kennedy!”
That familiar hot rush covers my cheeks.
Shit.
So much for the “no talking during class” rule.
It disappeared as quickly as trying not to allow Atlas to touch me did.
I should have known as soon as I saw them enter the studio that there would be questions about why Atlas and I bailed on Hawke family Sunday dinner—the first one I was invited to since returning.
One thing I vividly remember from growing up is how much Nana hates when any of them miss, and she always demands an excuse that she may or may not deem valid.
I clear my throat. “You know, Atlas is on a strict diet now that he’s in training camp. He just didn’t want to be tempted to break it with all of Nana’s delicious cooking.”
Every single one of them smirks knowingly at me.
Yeah, that was bullshit, and I didn’t fool anyone.
Skye clears her throat, raising a hand. “Can we move on from discussing my son’s sex life, please?”
“Yes”—I nod vigorously—“for the love of God, please.” I clap my hands. “Now, every one of you is standing next to what’s called a reformer. This is going to be our main equipment during the classes, but we’ll also use the Pilates chairs behind you, the balance ball that’s slid under the reformer, and a few other things like hand weights—”
Allie cringes. “Ugh, this sounds awful.”
Angie shoots her sister a stern look, and Storm leans forward to do the same to her youngest daughter.
I fight a grin, ignoring her comment in favor of getting the class moving along—away from the many distractions that always seem to come with the Hawkes. “Let’s start by going over the parts of the machine and what they are used for. Then we’ll get down to business.”
Looking around the tight space, seeing all the reformers filled with faces of people who have always been so kind to me and always accepted me as part of their family even if I don’t share their blood, I find it nearly impossible to form the words that should be so easy to start the class.
Nora raises a brow at me. “You okay, dear?”
Am I?
I’ve been in New Orleans for two weeks, but my entire world has been flipped upside down, twisted inside out, and thrown onto its head.
Between Atlas, Satriano, opening this place, and trying to get Gramps’ finances settled to ensure he won’t end up in some government home when he can’t train anymore, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in uncertainty.
But this family has embraced me.
Bent over backward to help me ensure this place succeeds even when I didn’t ask for it.
Because that’s just the kind of people they are.
A real family, not only bound by blood.
I examine each of their smiling, expectant faces, waiting for instructions, when what I really want to do is start bawling and embrace each one of them.
That will have to wait until after class.
“Yeah, just really happy to be home and to have you all here.”
She gives me a kind smile. “We’re happy you’re back, too.”
But no more time for mushy stuff.
I promised them an ass-kicking, and I need to give it to them.
ATLAS
It has to get worse before it gets better.
It has to get worse before it gets better.
It has to get worse before it gets better…
I’ve repeated it in my head so many times in the last hour that my brain is not even processing the words anymore, but it has helped.
Somewhat.
Helped me push through the pain.
Helped me zone out and forget the searing burn in my shoulder that feels like someone is driving a knife straight into it.
Because I know the mantra is true.
The only way I’m ever going to fully recover from this—if it’s even possible—is to keep pushing through the pain. Keep pushing my body in the gym every day with Jenkins, at home, or here every night with Wren, doing whatever the hell she tells me to.
Massage, weightlifting on top of what I already do with her grandfather, even coming back to the studio to work on the machines, which she swears will help break up the scar tissue and get the joint moving more fluidly again.
Whatever she wants, I’ll do it because I can never say no to that woman.
And unfortunately, she knows it.
“Let’s go, Atlas. Pick it up.”
I glance at Jenkins as I work the speed bag as fast as I can. It whirs in front of my eyes so rapidly that it’s barely visible. Just a blur of red. But it isn’t enough for him. Not enough for me either, really.
Nowhere near what I can do when I’m at the peak and prepared for a fight. Something we’re both more than aware of, even if the old man won’t voice it to me.
But his silence is worse than if he’d just tear into me and call me out fully on my bullshit.
It’s the look in his eyes.
Fucking pity.
The man pities me.
And that’s one thing I can’t fucking bear.
It’s only been a few days of working with Wren, so I can’t expect fucking miracles, but today is like a slap in the face.
Slower.
Weaker.
In even more pain than I was before she came back.
It has to get worse before it gets better.
The timer finally ends, and I do one final blow on the bag, then step back, chest heaving as it rocks back and forth above me. Taunting me. The creak of the ring keeping it up fills my ears, joining the rush of blood at the exertion.
Jenkins leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, old eyes narrowed on me. It’s the same look he’s been giving me since last week, since I disappeared with Wren and reappeared the next day, demanding she move in with me.
He has yet to confront me about it, either.
But that’s only a matter of time.
And it appears this is that day because he’s been pushing me far harder than he has the last few weeks, and it seems far more personal than it does about actually needing to train me.
He wants me to hurt today.
Fuck.
I hold out my hands to have him pull off my gloves, and he scowls and steps forward to do just that.
There’s no time like the present.
If I’m going to survive Jimmy Jenkins, we can’t have this elephant in the gym with us.
“Say what you need to say, old man.”
He glances up at me, his weathered lips twisting. “I think you know what I’m going to say.”
I nod, sweat dripping into my eyes. But he doesn’t release my hands to give me an opportunity to wipe it away. Just another way to make me hurt. To ensure I’m uncomfortable.
“I have an idea.”
“That’s my granddaughter…”
“I know.”
He tugs on my glove, getting the first one off. “And you’re shacking up with her after she’s only been back in town for a few weeks.”
The distress in his voice bears the truth—he doesn’t trust me with her. And that stings more than the salt in my eyes.
“With Satriano sniffing around her, I couldn’t just leave her to the wolves.”
His bushy white brows rise. “And what are you, if not a wolf?”
It’s a fair question from a man who has known me and my family for a very long time.
What we’re capable of.
What I’m capable of.
I smirk at him. “A hawk.”
He scowls and shakes his head as he pulls off my second glove. “That’s not any better, asshole.”
Chuckling, I lean in to nudge him gently on the shoulder. “You don’t have anything to worry about with me, old man. Trust me. I adore her. Fuck, I more than adore her. I worship her.”
He glances at me as he sets my gloves on the bench next to the ring and turns back, crossing his arms over his chest, appearing far more tired and far older than I remember him looking even last week. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
I run my hand over my face to mop away some of the sweat. “What do you mean?”
His heavy sigh mingles with a groan, and he lowers himself to the bench with a wince. “I’m not going to be here forever, son.”
Those words might as well be a knife straight to my chest—a reminder of how very human he is. “You think I don’t know that? Not that I want to think about it, but…”
He shakes his head. “None of us do. But when the time comes, she’s going to need someone reliable.”
“Didn’t I just tell you I worship her?”
“ Now , maybe, but I know you, Atlas.” He leans back against the base of the ring, assessing me like he expects to find something new, even though he sees me almost every single day. “I’ve known you your entire fucking life. Hell, I knew you before you were born. I knew your father before he was born and your mother , and I knew your grandfather. Out of all those people, who do you think is the one I worry about the most?”
I scowl at him. “You don’t need to worry about me—or her. I’ll protect Wren with my life if I have to. Forever.”
“That’s a pretty bold statement.”
“It sure is.” Astrid’s voice cuts across the gym, and I wince.
Shit .
I hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear that. It was for Jenkins. The assurance he needed. If I had noticed she’d come in from the studio, I would have held my tongue.
She wanders over and leans against the edge of the ring. “You really love her, don’t you?”
I scrub my palms over my face.
It isn’t that the word hasn’t crossed my mind a thousand times since she’s been back. But fuck, it hasn’t even been two weeks…
Dropping my hands, I glower at her. “I’m not having this conversation with either of you right now.”
Astrid smirks, opening her mouth to keep pushing and prodding me the way she always has. If I don’t interrupt her line of questioning, this is going to get even more frustrating.
“How was your class?”
She laughs. “Nice segue. It was good.” Her gaze cuts to Jenkins. “Your granddaughter’s really good at her job. She knows what she’s doing.”
Pride makes his chest swell, and he nods. “I never doubted it for a second.”
Astrid inclines her head toward me. “You think she can actually help this one?”
Fuck .
I guess our little arrangement isn’t a secret anymore.
Something I’ll definitely have to discuss with my Little Bird later.
Jenkins’ gaze flicks between us. “I sure hope so. It’s the entire reason I brought her back.”
My back stiffens. “What do you mean?”
He swallows thickly and glances at his feet before he looks back up at me. “I’m worried about you, kid. Everyone can see you’re struggling, and you wouldn’t talk to any of us. Not even me, the person who’s supposed to be getting you ready for this fight. I can’t put you in the ring and risk your life. After your grandfather, I…”
I can hear the waver of emotion in his voice.
He watched Sam “the Savage” Hawke drop dead in the ring, and no doubt has felt personally responsible for decades when no one, absolutely no one, could have known he had that aneurysm just waiting to pop in his brain.
It was a ticking time bomb.
All it took was one punch in the wrong spot.
“Jimmy?” I walk over and settle next to him on the bench, wrapping my arm around him.
“I’m sorry, kid.” He swallows hard again and glances over at me with tears shimmering in his eyes. “I just thought if anyone would be able to get through to you, it might be her. You two always had a thing, even as kids. And now, with her medical background, I thought…” He shrugs. “I thought maybe she could do something.”
I peer up at Astrid and see the same concern knitting her brow. “She’s trying.”
Astrid’s lips tilt into a little half-smile, and Jimmy drops his hand on my knee and squeezes it.
“Good.”
“But I don’t want anyone else knowing about this.”
Astrid’s smile falters, and she pushes off from her leaning position. “Why the hell not, Atlas? Why are you keeping everyone at arm’s length when all we want to do is help you? Ever since the shooting… Christ, the moment we woke up in that hospital room, you won’t talk to anyone. Not even me.”
I hear the tremor in her voice, and it makes my chest tighten. “You, of all people, should know why, Astrid. Because of how much this opening means to the family, because of what it will mean if I have to pull out of this fight.”
She scoffs. “Isn’t that every reason that you should give them warning and let them find a replacement?”
It may sound logical to her, but she doesn’t see the whole picture.
I shake my head. “This might be my only chance at the belt. If I don’t do it now—”
Anger tightens her fists at her sides. “If you do and you get hurt in the ring, what will that do to everyone?”
She has a point.
One I have been trying really hard not to think about.
I push to my feet and walk over to her, resting my hands on her shoulders and staring down into eyes identical to my own. “That’s not going to happen. I promise.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “You’ve always protected me, but now, I feel like I need to be the one protecting you.”
“You don’t. What you need to do is keep yourself safe from that asshole, Satriano, and help make sure Wren stays safe, too, while I’m training. Because I can’t have her with me all the time, Bishop or one of the security guys is going to stay with her when I’m not there. We’re staying at home as much as possible, but the charity gala is coming up next month, and we have other obligations. So—”
“I know. I know.” She gives me a hard smile. “Safety in numbers, right?”
“Armed numbers.” And thankfully, every single one of the girls knows how to handle a weapon properly and won’t hesitate to use it when pressed to. “That guy doesn’t just disappear. He pops back up like a fucking whack-a-mole, and he’s been quiet for far too long. He’s planning something.”
She nods. “I know. That’s what scares me.”