"Terrifies me," I admitted.
"Good. Real things should." He shifted, still inside me but softening. "Want to try something?"
"What?"
"Lesson three. Trust falls, but horizontal." He guided me to lie fully on his chest, our bodies still connected. "Stay here. Just breathe with me. No agenda, no next move. Just be."
"I don't know how to just be."
"Then learn. That's what we're doing, right? Teaching each other?"
I settled against him, ear over his heart. The steady rhythm should have made me anxious—too vulnerable, too exposed. Instead, it calmed something primal in my brain. Safety, it whispered. Home.
We stayed like that long enough for sweat to cool, for breathing to sync, for the outside world to fade until only this moment existed. When he finally softened enough to slip out, the loss made me whimper.
"Shh," he soothed, reaching for tissues from the gym bag nearby. "I'm not going anywhere."
He cleaned us both with gentle efficiency, then maneuvered us until I was tucked against his side on the mat.Not the most comfortable position, but neither of us seemed inclined to move.
"You're a good teacher," he said eventually.
"You too." I traced patterns on his chest, marveling at the freedom to touch without asking. "Though your methods are unconventional."
"Pot, meet kettle."
"Fair." I pressed a kiss over his heart, then forced myself to sit up. "We should actually train though. Moscow won't care that I'm having personal growth."
"Pragmatic even in afterglow. I lo—" He caught himself, but I heard what he almost said.
"Nathan."
"Sorry. Too soon. I know you're not—"
"I might love you." The words fell out unplanned, terrifying in their honesty. "I don't know what love looks like without ownership. But the way I feel about you, it's... different. Bigger. Scarier."
He sat up slowly, giving me time to retreat if needed. When I didn't, he cupped my face in both hands. "That's enough. More than enough."
"I need you to know," I continued, words tumbling over themselves, "that this might be all I can give for a while. Might being the operative word. Everything's tangled up with… and I can't—"
"Bunny." He kissed me quiet, soft and sure. "I'm not asking for declarations. I'm not Gabriel, needing contracts and certainties. You saying 'might' is bigger than any definite from someone else."
"Why?"
"Because 'might' means you're choosing it. Not programmed, not conditioned, not required. Choosing." He rested his forehead against mine. "That's everything."
We stayed there for a moment, breathing the same air, existing in the space between might and will. Then, because life didn't stop for emotional revelations, we got dressed and returned to actual training.
The rest of the session was different though. I moved with more confidence, trusting my body to know what to do. Nathan adjusted his teaching, less instruction and more guided discovery. We flowed between defense and offense, teacher and student, predator and prey.
"Better," he said after I successfully countered a grab that would have frozen me that morning. "You're not thinking, just responding."
"Turns out my instincts aren't as dead as I thought."
"No, just buried." He reset for another round. "We'll keep digging them out."
"Nathan?" I dropped into ready stance. "Thank you."
"For what?"
