Chapter 55
KATIE
I’m with the girls the next day for our fifth session, and Tristan isn’t there. It’s a good thing, because he’d distract me more than I already am.
Emory is, though, and the glances she keeps shooting me make me think she knows something is up. Even the girls sense something is wrong. Malika ups her antics, teasing me until I finally laugh and tell her to shape up or ship out.
We’re practicing the same eye-gouging move I demonstrated on the first day with Tristan when the double doors open and a few adults slip in. Four women who elicit screeches from four of the girls.
“Mom, look,” Malika shouts before she wails on the bag. “I learned how to punch.”
Her mother’s warm, appreciative gaze makes me look away, my stomach pinching. “And here I thought you were studying math.”
Emory laughs. “Hey, Sofia. No, we’re punching today. Katie’s our instructor.”
“Nice to meet you. Your daughters are learning fast.”
“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about.” Sofia gestures for the other women to join her. “Our daughters have been talking about how much they love your classes.”
I give her a confused smile. “Oh, they aren’t classes. It’s just informal training. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Well, Malika can’t stop talking about it.”
“My daughter can’t either,” a woman with dark curls adds.
“Mine either.”
They’re all nodding and I smile at them, slightly nervous. I feel like I’m about to get in trouble for teaching the girls something they shouldn’t be doing. “Do you want me to stop? I know some parents think it’s unhealthy for kids to be exposed to violence.”
Sofia laughs. “We were hoping you’d want to teach an adult class.”
“A class?” I look among them. “A class on what?”
“Self-defense,” one of the other moms volunteers. “We all want to learn. There’s actually about twenty of us who want to learn. If we can use the gym here, we can all pay you a small fee.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
“Of course we do,” one of them cuts in. “Women shouldn’t work for free. Especially not with your level of experience.”
“But I’m—” Not that experienced, I want to say. Not the person you think I am. I’m the girl in the background. I don’t have the skills to lead a twenty-person class. In fact, the thought of leading a twenty-person class makes my palms sweat.
Like she can sense my nerves, Sofia gives me a kind smile. “You don’t have to decide right now. I’m sure you’re busy. But we need more women like you out there. And we’re glad you’re teaching our daughters.”
My eyes heat. “I’d love to,” I croak without thinking beyond this ballooning feeling in my chest.
Emory joins me as the women go to pick up their daughters, hugging them. Arms go around shoulders. Hair gets smoothed by loving hands. Malika punches the air in demonstration and her mom laughs.
“If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you,” Emory says.
I look at my friend. My throat is closing and I can feel how wide my eyes are. I don’t know what to say.
Emory bumps me with her shoulder. “Too honest?”
“Not too honest.” I clear my throat. “Em, I think I found the thing that makes me feel big inside.”
She grins at me, then wraps me in a huge hug. “I knew it,” she whispers. She pulls away, still smiling.
I jog across the grass to Tristan’s house. I hope he’s home. I need to talk to him. He’s the first person I want to share things with and I didn’t even think before I bolted out of the gym.
He opens the door and leans against the doorframe when I’m still fifteen feet away. Even from here, I see how handsome he is, how the fading afternoon light lovingly gilds his hair and the side of his jaw and the firm slope of his shoulders. I slow, nearly stumbling, then right myself.
“Smooth.” He grins. “Saw you coming across the grass, killer.”
I can’t respond. I stop at the bottom of his steps. The Tristan of him is hitting me straight in the chest.
He’s grinning at me like I didn’t just turn him down yesterday.
He’s waiting for me. He’s just standing in his doorway like he has nothing better to do than be there when I need him to be.
Against all reason, the backs of my eyes heat and my jaw works furiously in an effort to contain the maelstrom of feeling inside me.
No one has ever been as good to me as Tristan Prince.
I’m so in love with him.
Oh god. Of course I am. The realization feels right, like it was waiting patiently for me to unearth this part of myself. It sends shivers up my spine and wetness down my cheeks.
“You okay?”
“You’re not mad at me for turning you down,” I croak.
He tips his head. “I don’t think I even know how to be mad at you. It’s not in my DNA.” His eyes are warm and they reel me in, up the steps on my numb legs, straight to his chest, where my hands land.
“Katie.” He cups my cheek in one broad hand. “You’re crying.”
“I’m not.”
His thumb travels over my cheekbone. “See, you say that, but the evidence is damning.” He says this last bit gently as he picks up the moisture on my cheek and I do my best to blink it back.
“I found what I’m meant to do, Tristan.”
“Yeah?” His eyes light, like this personal triumph is his own. My heart expands.
I nod. “I’m going to teach women’s self-defense.”
“Fuck yeah, you are.” His smile is lopsided and his eyes crinkle. “Finally, you can take your aggression out on someone else.” His teasing draws a wet smile to my face.
“I still need a practice dummy.”
He chuckles. “Consider this my application.”
“You really think I can do it? There will be twenty people in the class. It makes me nervous.”
He ducks his head. “I know you can do it, Katie. I’ve been waiting for you to figure out how capable you are.”
“You’ve been waiting.” I’m not sure what that means.
“I’ve been waiting for you to see yourself how I see you.”
“How’s that?” I ask hoarsely.
“Capable. Confident. Competent. All those C words. Sexy. Strong enough to toss me on my ass. Loyal. Deep. Big-hearted. Big enough to keep all of us safe. Self-sacrificing even when I wish you wouldn’t be.
” He’s using that rough-tender voice he used while singing, and each word plucks at something inside me, until I reach up, cup his face in my hands, and kiss him.