I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile.
“Didn’t peg you as the apron-wearing type.”
“Helps me unwind,” he shrugs. “Try it sometime. Unless you burn water.”
He leans in slightly to check my handiwork. He smellsgood.Annoyinglygood.
“Alright, I’ll take it from here. Go sit. Relax.”
I don’t argue. I slip into a seat at the kitchen table across from Ben and Maryanne. Ben gives me a pleased look, like he’s glad I showed up.
Johnny drops into the chair on my left, and Axel joins us with the food a moment later, sitting on my right. The meal looks and smells amazing. It tastes even better.
Throughout dinner, the family talks and jokes, and they include me without making it weird or obvious. At first, I don't know how to respond or act, but I slowly find myself easing into it. Bit by bit.
It’s…nice. But also, strange. This kind of easy domestic rhythm isn’t something I’m accustomed to.
After dinner, Ben reminds me about training in the morning. I assure him I’ll be there, then escape upstairs under the excuse of homework.
Back in my room, I catch up on assignments from the morning classes Ididattend. But I’m still drained—physically, mentally, emotionally—and when I finally crawl into bed, sleep comes fast and heavy.
Chapter 9
My alarm goes off way too early. I hit snooze. Twice.
Then comes the knocking.
“Let’s go, Lina! Get that cute ass out of bed!” Axel’s gravelly, morning voice calls through the door.
My eyes snap open. Cute ass? That’s… new. I’ve never thought of my ass as particularly cute, but hey, I’ll take the compliment.
Grumbling, I untangle myself from my blanket cocoon and drag on a pair of leggings, a sports bra, and my favorite sweat-wicking shirt that saysBody by Bacon. Just because I don’t work out doesn’t mean I don’t own athleisure.
I wrestle my curls into a messy knot, slather on deodorant like war paint, and lace up my gym shoes with the enthusiasm of someone being led to their execution.
When I open the door, Axel’s already waiting, looking annoyingly chipper.
“Hey, Princess!”
I consider stabbing him. Instead, I grunt.
“Not a morning person, huh?”
“Unless you’ve got coffee, stop talking,” I mumble.
He laughs. “Hydration first. You can have coffee after the workout.”
“Promise?”
“I pinky promise. Everyone knows that’s the most sacredpromise.” He holds up his little finger.
I roll my eyes but hook mine with his anyway, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.
We head to the garage-turned-gym. Ben and Johnny are already inside, mid-routine. The setup is impressive: treadmills and bikes to the right, weights and a punching bag to the left, mats across the center, mirrors on the back wall, andEye of the Tigerplaying on the speakers like this is a Rocky montage.
“Hey, Lina!” Ben calls, walking over. I give a tired wave.
“Let’s get you warmed up with some cardio. How often do you normally work out?”
