The longing I feel in my heart is more than attraction, more than wanting his body. It’s deeper, heavier. I want his laugh, unguarded and unashamed. I want to know which tea he makes when he can’t sleep. I want to trace the scar on his cheekbone with my thumb and kiss it until he believes it only makes him more beautiful.
I want to protect him—not because he’s fragile. He isn’t. He’s so fucking strong. But because he’s rare. Precious. And I don’t know how to want anything less with him.
It terrifies me. Because I don’t know if I’m allowed to want that much from him. He’s been through so much. He’s my best friend’s brother. But I want him anyway.
I want everything. And I don’t know if he’ll ever want me.
I walk to work with my chest aching, every step charged with the truth that I’m already deeper than I should be—and yet, I don’t want to climb out.
The gym is chaos.
We’re offering free personal training sessions for anyone who signs up today, so the place is buzzing. Jules and Zeke have gonefull sales mode, pulling every person who steps through the door into a tour or demo. My eighties playlist is blasting—“It’s Tricky“ out of the speakers—and even Aiden, who usually groans when I play it, can’t stop grinning.
We keep catching each other’s eyes across the room, two idiots high on caffeine and adrenaline. We’re fucking doing it.
But if I’m honest, that’s not the only thing that’s got me wired today.
It’s Gabe.
The small, soft smile he gave me this morning before I left. The way he followed me outside just to hold me—arms around me, face against my hair like he needed to be there. Hechoseto do that.
And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I can still feel the press of his hand against my chest.
During a break, I sit on a free weights bench with my phone and start searching for articles on trauma response—grounding techniques, how to help someone through a panic attack, and whatnotto do. I don’t just want to be there if this happens again. I want to know how to help. I felt so lost and afraid in that moment, desperate to help him, but petrified I’d make the situation worse.
“What happened?”
Aiden’s voice makes me jolt, almost dropping my phone. He’s standing behind me, concern written all over his face.
I hesitate. Gabe’s privacy isn’t mine to give away, but Aiden’s already seen the screen, and he’s frowning, worry lining his face.
“I think Gabe had some sort of panic attack yesterday. We were taking down the shelving unit, and it collapsed.”
He listens without interrupting, nodding slowly. He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs both hands over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “Fuck. He’s lucky you were there.”
Maybe he’s right.
Not because I knew what I was doing, I just stayed. But I feel like I really see Gabe—see the layers he tries to hide from others.
“How was he this morning?” Aiden asks.
I swallow, my throat tight. “I didn’t even know what I was doing,” I admit, biting the edge of my thumb. “I just… I want to help him. I won’t lie to you, it was hard to see it. I’ve never seen anyone look so scared. But he seemed okay this morning. He was up and dressed.”
Aiden cracks his neck from side to side and looks at me. “I wish he’d told me. He texted this morning saying good luck today, but didn’t mention anything else.” His posture relaxes. “I'm glad he has you there. You’ve been good for him. I saw it at brunch—I can’t believe he actually came, and he seemed more like himself. You’re solid, Noah. That’s what he needs.”
Something loosens in my chest at that. Before I can respond, the front door opens.
A tall, lean guy steps in—black hair buzzed at the sides and swept back on top, tattoos running down both arms and up his neck, silver hoop in his septum. He’s wearing sweats and a sleeveless shirt, all casual ease.
“You’re finally open,” he says with a grin.
“Yep,” I reply, stepping up to meet him. “Looking to join?”
“Definitely,” he says. “I’m tired of riding two towns over just to find a decent weight setup. Place looks great. I own the tattoo shop off the square—Needle&Vein.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve passed it. Cool name.”
He smirks. “Thanks. Don’t do tramp stamps or anything involving your ex.”
