12. Gwen
CHAPTER 12
GWEN
M y legs feel rubbery as I follow Silas to his office.
He points to the couch. “Have a seat.”
I barely hold back the groan as I lower down onto the cushion. Damn, I’m out of shape.
He grabs water from the fridge and hands a bottle to me. “Thank you.” I twist off the cap and guzzle down half of the cold liquid. “I needed that.”
“Next time we workout, I want you to bring water with you. You should be hydrating during our sessions as well as after.”
“Okay.”
“Here.” He tosses me a protein bar. “When’s the last time you ate?”
My nose wrinkles as I try to remember. “I had yogurt with granola this morning.”
“Eat that,” he orders with a stern expression.
“Okay.” I peel open the wrapper and take a bite. It tastes like peanut butter and is incredibly chewy. I break off another piece and pop it between my lips. By the time I’m done chewing, my jaw is tired.
“If I’m going to work with you, I need you to make a concerted effort to eat more. We’re going to reach a point where your workouts will be extremely difficult and you’ll need all the energy your body can provide. A yogurt with granola ten hours earlier isn’t gonna cut it.”
I nod. “You’re right. I got weighed this morning and I’ve lost seven pounds since I came home.”
“That’s a lot to lose in a short time, especially on your small frame,” he says.
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“We’re going to pack seven pounds of muscle on you in no time.”
I give him a thumbs up as I drink down the rest of my water. I recap the empty bottle and run my palm over the black leather beside me. “This couch brings back bad memories.”
“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks, his lips hinting at a grin.
“You try waking up on a stranger’s couch and see how you feel.”
“We weren’t complete strangers at that point, though,” he points out.
“True, but I still didn’t know your name.”
“You were too busy passing out for me to tell you.”
“That’s not nice.” I throw the empty bottle at his chest, but he catches it and tosses it in the recycle bin.
“Dammit,” I curse.
“What day are you thinking about coming back and training again?” he asks.
“Tomorrow,” I say, even though I may not be able to get out of bed in the morning.
“Let’s give your body a few days to recover. Your ribs are still healing.”
As much as I’d like to protest, I know he’s right. “Okay. Is there anything I should do in the meantime?”
“Some light stretching will be helpful. But don’t overdo it.”
“I won’t.” I push to my feet. “If I don’t leave, I might fall asleep.”
“Let me walk out with you.” He moves a few things around on his desk, then grabs his phone and keys. “I’m all set,” he says, and I step into the hallway. He flips off the lights and closes the door before we head down the stairs.
Before we leave through the front door, I grab my backpack while he sets the alarm. “Don’t you need to shut off the lights?” I ask.
He locks the door and turns to me. “No, they’re on a timer and will automatically go off in another hour. Where did you park?”
“Just down a short ways.”
“It’s getting dark. I’ll walk with you.”
“Okay,” I readily agree.
“I expected you to argue,” he tells me.
“I’m used to being fiercely independent, but with all the craziness lately, I’m wondering if I need a bodyguard.”
“I’ll walk you out whenever we train at night. And by the time you return to school, you’ll be able to take care of defending yourself.”
If I return to school.
As much as I love North Carolina School of Design, going back there is sure to stir up all the horrible memories. But I’m not ready to figure out my future right now. One thing at a time.
“This is mine,” I say, tapping the window on my SUV.
“Go home and eat dinner. That’s an order.” He aims a pointed glance at me and then he smiles, softening his features.
“I will.” I draw an X across my chest with my finger. “Cross my heart.”
Why did I just act like I’m a child?
“Have a nice night, Gwen.”
I smile. “You too, Silas.”
He walks off as I slip behind the wheel and start the engine. I pull away from the curb, watching him in the rearview mirror, and head home.
It’s taken me every bit of the past few days for my body to feel remotely better. Who knew stretching and doing light exercise could leave me so sore? I didn’t realize how out of shape I’d become. I may be petite, but that doesn’t mean I’m fit. But I have a feeling a couple of months of working with Silas will change that.
“Hey, are you ready?” Silas greets me as soon as I walk inside. His dark countenance brightens when he smiles. Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“I don’t know. It depends on what you’re going to do to me,” I say with a laugh.
I can think of a few things I’d like him to do.
“How did you feel after our first session?”
“I’ve been sore but today’s better.” I set my backpack on the bench next to the door and grab the water bottle I remembered to bring.
“We’ll do a little more than we did last time and see how you feel afterward,” he tells me as we walk farther into the gym.
“Sounds good.”
“You might want to put your hair up,” he suggests.
Fuck me. I knew this moment would come, I just hoped it wouldn’t be yet. Setting the bottle on the floor, I remove the band from my wrist. Using my fingers, I rake my hair back from my face and into a knot on top of my head. My hands shake as I wrap the elastic around the long, thick mass. This is the first time I’ve worn my hair up since I got my sutures out, and I feel exposed. My stomach sinks when I sense Silas’s gaze zeroed in on me. I couldn’t feel more self-conscious if I tried. I wasn’t ready for this moment, but how could I be? As it stands, I no longer like my own face when I look in the mirror, so why would I want anyone else to see it?
Having a reason to conquer this fear is probably the best case scenario. And, fortunately, he doesn’t comment on my scar or ask me how it came to be. If he did, the tears I’m beating back would surely break free.
“Drink some of your water before we get started,” he says.
Happy to have the distraction, I grab the bottle and take a deep pull before I carry it to a bench along the wall. I return to Silas and give a quick nod, letting him know I’m ready to get started.
To my surprise, he immediately walks straight up and steps beside me, taking a good long look at my new scar.
I stand frozen in place, paralyzed at the thought of him seeing me so exposed. I’m not sure what to say or do in the moment, until he breaks the brief and awkward silence.
“Makes you look dangerous.” Silas casually drops what turns out to feel like a compliment.
“It does?” And I’m caught completely off guard by how it makes me feel.
“Hell yeah.” He smirks and backs away. “There’s nothing sexier than a beautiful woman with a dangerous-looking scar.”
Wait… Did he just call me sexy? And beautiful?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he apologizes. His forehead creases between his dark eyebrows, as if he’s worried he’s offended me.
“No. Not at all.” I still feel a little flushed and repeat myself. “Not at all.”
“Well then, Little Miss Dangerous, how about we get you started?”
Did he just give me a nickname?
Little Miss Dangerous. I think I like it.
“So we’ll start with the same stretching routine as we did the last time. And have you done any stretching on your own?”
“Okay. And yes, I did. Not enough to overdo it, though.”
“Good.” He nods. Earning his approval pleases me.
The next few minutes pass quickly as we stretch, with my mind racing over how he flirted with me. It was so unexpected, and he was so matter-of-fact about it. He called me both sexy and beautiful without even sounding like he was flirting. It was as if he said the sky was blue or water was wet. He said it like he really believed it.
Silas casually calling me sexy and beautiful might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. And it has me feeling good about myself for the first time since the attack.
“We’re going to begin by working on four basic punches that you can start to build off of.”
“What am I building?”
“You’re building up your strength, timing, and coordination. You’ll be quickening your reflexes and shortening your reaction time, all while instilling a sense of self-confidence in your ability to physically protect and defend yourself.”
“Wow. All of that from just four punches?”
“All of that starts with just four punches, but it’s a long road and a lot of hard work to get there.” He smiles at me with a mischievous look in his eyes. “You think you can handle that, Little Miss Dangerous?”
My lips curve. “I do.”
“Then let’s stop talking and start training.”