7. Silas
CHAPTER 7
SILAS
A fter the police officers have taken statements from all three of us, they head back to the station with the suspect.
“Are you both all right?” I step over to speak with the girls as they’re preparing to leave.
The blond girl immediately bobs her head and smiles. “Thank you for helping us.”
“I’m glad I was able to.” I turn to face her brunette friend. “What about you?” She stays quiet.
When she doesn’t reply, her friend jostles her arm. “Gwen, he asked you a question.”
“Huh?” She slowly blinks back to reality, as if she may have been reliving what just happened. She shakes her head slightly before locking in on me with haunting, silvery eyes.
I’m not sure if she’s in shock or merely distracted, but I can tell she’s been affected by what’s occurred.
My lips curve into a soft smile, and I try to look as unimposing as I can, which isn’t easy when you’re six foot three and weigh two hundred and twenty-five pounds.
“Are you okay?” I ask again.
She nods slowly. “Yes. Thank you for saving us.”
“No thanks necessary.”
“That was some crazy move you used to take the guy down,” the blonde says. “Where did you learn how to do that?”
I tip my head toward the building next to us. “I own this gym.”
“That’s so cool.”
I glance at the brunette, and her face looks unusually pale. Her eyes are wide open in the way that only comes from panic. I’ve seen this expression before when someone gets the wind knocked out of them and then can’t draw in their next breath when they try.
I touch her arm and call her name. “Gwen.”
Her friend hears the concern in my tone and moves closer, calling Gwen’s name too.
“You’re okay,” I reassure her. “Take some deep breaths.” I watch her chest to see if it rises and expands, but it barely moves. “Deeper breaths,” I encourage, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. In fact, her breaths are becoming increasingly faster and more shallow.
She’s going to pass out.
The thought barely has time to register before I notice her eyes rolling back in her head. I catch her as she goes limp, and lift her into my arms. Her cup falls to the sidewalk, and the cold liquid inside splatters my legs like paint.
“Oh my God, Gwen!” her friend cries out.
“Call 911 while I get her inside the gym,” I yell as I start toward the entrance.
She hurries in front of me to open the door, and I carry Gwen up the stairs. As she follows me, her flip flops clack against each step and then all the way into my office. I lay Gwen down on the couch and check her breathing and pulse.
“You need to call 911,” I say.
“No, she wouldn’t want me to do that.”
“Is she diabetic?” I ask.
“No.” She sets the cup in her hand on the floor.
“Does she have any medical conditions that would cause her to pass out?” It looked like a panic attack to me, but I can’t be certain.
“No, she’s perfectly healthy,” she says. But then her brows pull together and she adds, “But she’s been having a problem with anxiety. A few days ago she told me she passed out from it.”
I stand beside the couch and cross my arms. “That looked like a panic attack.”
The blonde sits on the edge of the cushion and brushes Gwen’s hair back from her face. I notice the long, fresh scar along her cheek, and wonder if her panic attack is related to that. It almost looks like a knife wound.
“Gwen,” her friend calls softly. “Gwen.”
The crescent shapes of dark lashes slowly rise. Gewn’s eyes open in tiny increments until they finally focus on her friend. “What happened?”
“You passed out and he caught you,” the blonde explains, and points at me.
“I’m Silas,” I say, introducing myself.
“I’m Demi,” the blonde replies. “And this is Gwen.”
“Now that we got introductions out of the way, how are you feeling?” I ask.
She tries to sit up, but Demi pushes her hand against Gwen’s shoulder, holding her down. “Just lie there for now.”
“I’m fine.”
“I think Demi’s right. Take a few minutes to recover.” I walk over to the small fridge in the corner of the room and grab a bottled water. Retracing my steps, I open the cap and hand the bottle over to Demi.
“Thank you.” She offers me a small smile before helping her friend sit up. “Take a few sips.”
Gwen clasps the bottle between both hands and raises it to her lips. She drinks her fill, then hands the bottle back to Demi.
“How are you feeling now?” I ask, studying her face. Her color has returned and her eyes seem brighter when she looks at me.
“Much better. I guess I need to thank you again for saving me a second time.” She grimaces. “Passing out on the sidewalk could’ve been horrible.”
“Right?” Demi chimes in. “You just got out of the hospital. We don’t need you to go back in.”
Gwen flicks a warning glare at her friend before her focus returns to me. “I sincerely appreciate all your help.” She places her feet on the floor and rises. I’m ready to steady her if need be, but she remains balanced.
My gaze scrolls from her sandal-covered feet, up her legs where it lingers on the frayed edges of her shorts. There’s just something about cutoffs on women that I’ve always liked. Maybe it’s the casual vibe they give off.
Gwen definitely looks sexy in them, as well as her light blue t-shirt.
Demi retrieves her cup from the floor, then stands. “Here.” She hands the water bottle off to Gwen, who takes a long pull.
When she’s done, I hold out my open hand. “You’ll need this.”
“Oh, thanks,” she says. As she takes hold of the plastic cap, her fingertips gently graze my palm, sending a little buzz of awareness through me. I’m not immune to her natural beauty but she’s young—maybe early twenties—too young for me to act on my physical reaction to her. And between what happened with the knife-wielding crook and whatever Demi meant when she mentioned Gwen just getting out of the hospital, it’s obvious she’s already dealing with a lot.
She twists the cap back on the bottle, and for whatever reason, her gaze lowers and she notices my splattered sneakers and legs. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. My milkshake got all over you.” Her hand covers her nose and mouth.
“Don’t even worry about it. It’ll come right off.” I’d already forgotten about it.
She pulls the left side of her hair forward, covering her scar. “I’m going to leave before I can do anything else to you.”
I try to clamp down on my brain before it acknowledges how I’d let her do whatever she wanted to me, but it’s no use. The thought appears in my mind like a flashing neon sign that’s impossible to ignore.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can walk you back to your car to make sure.” Say you want me to.
She shakes her head. “That’s not necessary. I really am fine now. I got hit with a little bout of panic but it’s passed now.”
“Let me show you out, then,” I say.
“You don’t need to. I know where to go,” Demi says.
I nod. “It’s been nice meeting you both.”
Gwen aims a questioning glance my way.
“Nice?” She laughs at my choice of words.
I shrug. “Interesting might be a better word. It certainly hasn’t been boring,” I say, smiling.
Gwen smiles back at me. “Thanks again, Silas.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Thanks for everything,” Demi says.
“Anytime.” I watch them walk away until they disappear down the stairs and then I step back into my office. I flop down into the chair behind my desk.
What a strange turn of events this day has taken.
A few minutes later, Gavin pokes his head into my office, and I wave him in.
“What was that all about?” he asks. He obviously saw me carrying Gwen up the stairs. I’m sure he’s not the only one who did.
“She had a panic attack and passed out.”
“And you just happened to be there to sweep in like a knight in sweaty gym clothes?”
“The two of them were in the middle of being mugged and I stepped in.”
He laughs. “I knew there had to be more to the story. Tell me how you ‘stepped in.’” He makes air quotes.
“I disarmed him and held him down until the police came.”
“Did he have a gun?” he asks.
“No, a knife.”
“It’s nice to know all your training hasn’t gone to waste. Neither of them got hurt, did they?”
“No, I stopped it before anything bad happened.”
“Maybe you can start a side gig rescuing damsels in distress.”
“Ha ha, you’re a comedian,” I say.
“In all seriousness, I’m glad you were there at the right time. I’m sure the ladies were thankful for your help.”
“They were.” I’m struck with an image of Gwen’s light-gray eyes staring up at me as she thanked me for a final time.
“The blonde looked hot from across the gym. Was the brunette too?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I was busy keeping them from getting robbed.”
He snickers.
“What?” I ask.
“Don’t bullshit me. You know if they’re attractive or not.”
I shrug. “They both are.” Although, attractive is a gross understatement for Gwen. She’s stunning in an effortless way and probably doesn’t even realize it.
“Tell me you at least got their contact information before they left.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“You’re a dumbass.”
“Be careful. Tomorrow I’ll make you pay for insulting me during your training session,” I threaten with a raised eyebrow.
“You’ll kick my ass all around the gym regardless of what I say.”
“That’s true. You better go help Caleb mop the floors before he comes up here crying,” I suggest, and we share a laugh. Caleb is all about making sure everyone is doing their fair share. Mostly because he doesn’t want to do any extra work, unless it involves training. And then he’s a beast.
Gavin heads back downstairs, leaving me to my own thoughts. He was right about one thing—I’m a dumbass for not getting Gwen’s number.