“Damn.” He lifted a hand, signaling a pause. “Okay. Got it.”
Arden reset her stance. “You’re chasing the hit. Watch your center.”
He nodded, his grin gone. Focus sharpening.
By the end of the session, her muscles ached in that honest, welcome way—earned through focus, not fear. She dropped against the wall near her bag, unwrapping her hands as Matt approached again.
“Thanks for not totally obliterating me,” he joked, still winded.
She shrugged, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You held your own. Slow down next time. Trust your body.”
“Easier said than done,” he muttered, then offered a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Damon passed, giving her a rare nod. “Good work today. That edge—that’s what I want to see more of.”
Arden slung her bag over her shoulder. But the words stayed with her.
Thatedge, theclarity, had nothing to do with the rose. Or fear. It was hers. Earned. Reclaimed.
?
By the time she stepped back onto the damp city streets, her resolve had solidified and felt unshakable.
Still, a trace of last night clung to her skin, more than the rose, more than the shadows it dragged back with it.
She could still taste him in the back of her throat, that kiss slow-burning beneath her skin like it hadn’t ended.
Wanting Gideon wasn’t the problem. It never had been.
It was trusting what it meant.
Trusting what he might mean.
That part made her chest tight.
But she didn’t want to come apart. Not again.
So she walked faster. Straighter. Untouchable in posture, even if her skin prickled.
?
She stepped from the shower, steam curling behind her. The sting of hot water had washed away the last of the morning tension, but not the low hum of adrenaline threading her ribs.
She dressed in fitted jeans and a black tank, every motion deliberate. Measured. Her coffee mug warmed her palms as she crossed the kitchen.
The rose sat exactly where she’d left it. Its red bloom, bold and intentional, cut through the soft morning light. She picked it up, turned it once between her fingers, then set it back down.
Penny looked up from the couch, her mug resting on her knees.
“So, are we burning it or pretending it’s a decorative choice now?”
Arden leaned against the counter. “Neither.”
“Right,” Penny drawled, though her eyes didn’t quite match the smirk. “Because it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t,” she said, calm but unshakable this time. “I’m not letting it set the tone. Not today.”
She took a slow sip of coffee, grounding herself in the heat, in the choice.
