Chapter Ten
J ane
Jane sank to the floor of the locker room, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees.
She’d thought Brady showing up—especially at her work—meant everything was finally shifting.
That he couldn’t stay away from her was supposed to be the dream, the proof he felt what she felt.
That they could face Rex’s irritation together.
But she’d been wrong. And it didn’t just sting.
It gutted her. Her chest felt splintered, like someone had reached inside and ripped her heart out.
A few hot tears escaped. She swiped them away quickly.
Maybe it was time to face the truth—no matter what she did or said, Brady wasn’t going to choose her. Not really. Not completely.
He made a promise to her brother years ago and broke it, so he would punish them both for the rest of their lives because of it.
She had to get over him. What else could she do?
She pushed herself to standing and huffed out a sharp breath.
She adjusted her clothing and hustled out of the locker room.
She couldn’t stand another minute in the confined space where she’d just let Brady defile her in the most incredible way.
Ducking into her closet-sized office, she grabbed her purse and locked up the studio.
Hopping in her Jeep, she started the engine and tore out of the parking lot.
A good bottle of wine, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cannoli ice cream, and a re-watch of The Notebook would cure her broken heart. A girl could hope.
Once home, she hurried directly to her shower. She had to scrub the smell of Brady off her skin. The hot water pelted her, washing away any trace of what happened at the studio. Now if she could only do the same to her mind.
After her shower, she poured a glass of Chianti and pulled what was left of the pint of Cannoli ice cream from the freezer.
She found the movie on the TV and settled in for the night.
Gorging herself on ice cream and wine while having a solid cry over a prolific love story was a normal way of dealing with a broken heart.
Tomorrow—she moved on.
****
J ane’s head pounded . She cracked her eyes open but the piercing sunlight caused her to squeeze them shut.
Perhaps a whole bottle of Chianti had not been her best idea.
She hadn’t even made it to her bedroom. She’d crashed on the couch in an awkward position.
Her neck and back would make her pay for it all day.
She rolled to her side and tried opening her eyes again. The light brought tears to her eyes but she needed to get up. She had yoga classes to teach today.
Oh, shit! What classes had she been scheduled for today? She sprung to seating and immediately regretted the movement.
“Ugh!” She put a hand to her forehead. It felt like little men hammered away inside her brain.
Typically, she knew her schedule. Alarm would be set. And she’d spring out of bed like a champ. She was a morning person. However, she didn’t finish a bottle of wine on her own on a normal day. Ha, on any day.
She grabbed her phone from the coffee table to check the time, but was distracted by the texts from Brady.
Brady: I’m sorry.
Brady: Please don’t hate me.
Brady: This is for the best.
She lifted her middle finger to her phone as if he might actually see her.
Fuck him . She didn’t hate him but she was pissed.
The emotional rollercoaster ride he’d taken her on was selfish and hurtful.
She wanted off. No need to respond. A text message was not a conversation that she was required to respond to.
She glanced at the time. 7:30. She pulled up her schedule from her studio app. She had a 9:00 and an 11:00 today. Thank God she hadn’t been responsible for opening the studio or teaching the early birds. She’d have been late and completely hungover.
Shower. Dress. Eat. Studio. In that order. But first, coffee and ibuprofen.
****
“G reat class, Jane,” Zachary Norton said as he rolled up his black yoga mat.
Zach had been coming to the studio for a few weeks now. She made an effort to learn most of her clients’ names. He was a good-looking guy—chestnut hair cropped close to his head, not quite military short, but neat. Lean and toned like a runner with that easy charm some men carried without trying.
Sweat glistened on his forehead. He grabbed the hem of his damp shirt and wiped it across his face, unintentionally flashing a set of defined abs.
“Thanks, Zach. Glad you enjoyed it.” She left her mat and water bottle on the floor so she could focus on greeting her clients as they edged out of the studio.
“I used to think yoga wasn’t a workout.” He placed his rolled mat under his arm. “But you’ve proven otherwise.”
She laughed. “That’s an assumption of many. The temperature of the room helps but lengthening your body and holding that position for any length of time develops a different kind of strength.”
“So true. I’m sore in muscles I didn’t know existed.” He chuckled.
She laughed again. “I take muscle soreness as a compliment.” She winked.
Opening the studio door, she held it so that several of the clients could enter the lobby to grab their personal items. Zach waited with her.
As the last person exited, Zach turned to her. “Any chance you might be interested in grabbing a drink or a bite to eat one evening?” His cheeks flushed.
She could tell it took a lot for him to ask her out.
She appreciated that. He didn’t come off like some arrogant guy who assumed every woman wanted him.
He seemed genuine. Respectful. But she’d just slept with Brady last night.
Her heart was still raw, the sting of disappointment too fresh. It was too fast. Too soon.
“I’m just getting out of a relationship.” Not the exact truth but also not quite a lie. “If you can give me some time, I think I’d like that in a few weeks.”
He smiled. “Take all the time you need. You say when.”
“Thank you, Zach.”
He strolled out of the studio and she let the door close for a minute so she could catch her breath. If Brady didn’t want her, at least someone did.