Could they see her sadness? The same sadness she’d been trying to hide for days?
Her mother crossed the space between them and pulled her into a hug, and that was when she let the tears fall.
Shewassad. And in the safety of her mother’s arms, she couldn’t hide it.
Noah punchedthe bag so hard, it rattled under the impact. His arms ached and his ribs hurt. He’d lost track of how long he’d been here.
But he didn’t stop. Not yet.
Three days. Three entire fucking days of no Addie, and it was killing him.
Coming home to Amber Ridge was supposed to be the answer. It was supposed to stop the nightmares. Stop him from waking with trembling limbs. He’d done everything right. Gotten out. Come home. Immersed himself in civilian life and started therapy.
So why the fuck wasn’t he getting better?
He punched the bag harder, feeling the impact run up his shoulders. Each hit came harder…faster. Air whooshed in and out of his lungs.
He’d always thought he was a strong person. But wouldn’t a strong person have been able to process what had happened by now and move on? Why wouldn’t that period of his life leave him the fuck alone?
“Hey.”
He spun around, his fist flying back like he was going to punch the guy.
The man didn’t so much as flinch.
Noah’s chest heaved as he lowered his fist. There was something familiar about the man. He was tall and muscled, with dark hair and eyes. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people.”
The guy’s brows rose. “It’s my gym.”
His gym… Then he remembered where he’d seen the guy—in The Tea House the day Rhett had approached Addie.
“You’re the UFC fighter who opened the place?”
“Former UFC fighter. And former Army Ranger.”
So the guy was a high achiever.
“I’m Zane.”
“Noah.”
Zane gestured toward the octagonal ring in the center of the room. “Want a round in the ring, Noah?”
He glanced at the ring. He’d been here so long, his muscles ached. But they also craved the exhaustion that would come from a real fight.
Zane must have seen it, because without a word from Noah, he tilted his head. “Come on. One round. I’ll go easy on you.”
Noah could have laughed. He didn’t want the guy to go easy on him. He wanted to hit someone. To feel the impact of someone hittinghim.
Zane pulled on the same type of gloves Noah wore. They had padded knuckles but open fingers to allow grappling. They also had secure wrist straps.
“You need to warm up?” Noah asked.
“Nope. I’m good to go.”
They touched gloves before Noah stepped back and centered his weight on the balls of his feet. Then they circled each other slowly, eyes locked.
Noah threw the first jab. Zane dodged it easily. Next Noah tried a sharp left hook. Again, Zane avoided it, the hook missing his cheek by an inch.
