I turn my head slightly, just enough to look at her profile. Her eyes are closed now, her breathing slow and even, a peaceful expression on her face that I’ve never seen before. Like, for the first time in her life, she feels completely safe.
And I realize, with startling clarity, that I’m in love with her.
Not falling. Not heading in that direction.
Already there.
I’m in love with Tessa Marlowe.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
TESSA
Sweat drips down my back as I drive my knee up hard into the instructor’s groin. He’s wearing a padded cup, so he doesn’t actually get injured, but he goes down anyway, stumbling backward and doubling over like a real assailant would.
The girls erupt behind me, cheering and clapping.
“Oh my gosh, yes, Tessa!” Anna hollers. “You’re such a badass!”
“That was perfect form!” Miranda adds, laughing. “Did you see how fast you moved?”
I’m breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I can’t stop grinning. The instructor straightens up and gives me an approving nod.
“Excellent,” he says. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Fast, decisive, no hesitation.”
The three of us have been taking self-defense courses together for the past month—twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday evening—at a downtown gym specializing in women’s self-defense. It was Anna’s idea initially, something she’d beenwanting to do for years, and when she heard about everything I’d been through, she insisted we sign up together. Miranda joined immediately.
“God, it feels great to kick some ass, doesn’t it?” Anna says as we grab our water bottles during the break. Her face is flushed, her ponytail askew, and she looks absolutely thrilled. “I’ve always wanted to get really good at self-defense maneuvers,” she continues. “I just never made the time.”
“I really appreciate you both doing this with me,” I say, meaning it deeply.
“Are you kidding?” Miranda scoffs, wiping sweat from her forehead. “This is incredible. I feel like I could take down a linebacker right now.”
I take a long drink of water. They’re right—this is incredible.
The class moves on to practicing escape techniques, and I pair up with Anna while Miranda works with another woman. The instructor demonstrates how to break free from someone grabbing you from behind, and we take turns practicing the movements.
When it’s my turn to be the “attacker,” I grab Anna from behind, and she executes the escape perfectly—stepping to the side, turning into me, and using her elbow to strike where my ribs would be.
“Yes!” the instructor calls out. “Perfect, Anna. Tessa, your turn.”
Anna grabs me from behind, her arms wrapping around my upper body, and for just a second—a split second—I freeze. My brain flashes back to Preston, to being grabbed, and the terror that comes with the feeling of not being able to get away.
But then I remember where I am and who I’m with. I push the memories down and execute the escape exactly as we were taught. I break free and spin to face Anna with my hands up in a defensive position.
“Excellent!” the instructor says. “You both are naturals.”
After class, the three of us sit in the parking lot for a while, still sweaty and exhausted but buzzing with endorphins.
“Same time Thursday?” Miranda asks.
“Absolutely,” I say.
“Definitely,” Anna agrees.
Sometimes we grab dinner afterward, but Anna has a Zoom meeting to attend for an upcoming project, so we say our goodbyes.
