Rafael said something. Troy responded. They talked, and I couldn't hear what they were saying over the equipment noise and the music playing through the overhead speakers, but I could see the shift in Troy's body language. The way he leaned in slightly when Rafael spoke. The way his mouth curved in an expression that might have been amusement.
The jealousy that hit me was immediate and irrational and so fucking strong I had to set the clipboard down before I snapped the pen in half.
There was nothing to be jealous of. Rafael was just being welcoming. Just doing what he always did, making people feel comfortable, being the warm and engaging version of human that I'd never been good at.
I turned away. Forced myself to focus on the next client. Hockey player named Jensen, twenty-four, recovering from a torn ACL. Surgery six weeks ago. Starting the next phase of his rehab protocol.
“Ready to work?” I asked, keeping my voice level.
“Yeah. Let's do it.” Jensen was all nervous energy and eagerness, the way young athletes got when they were desperate to prove the injury hadn't broken them.
I walked him through the exercises. Leg presses at reduced weight. Balance work on the BOSU ball. Range of motion drills that made him wince but push through anyway.
My hands knew what to do. Knew where to press, how to adjust, when to push and when to back off. Muscle memory from years of doing this.
But my attention kept snagging on Troy and Rafael across the room.
They'd moved to the seating area near the windows. Both of them sitting now, conversation flowing easy. Rafael said words and Troy laughed. Actually laughed, head tipping back slightly, guard dropping in a way I hadn't seen since he'd come home.
The sound carried across the space and landed in my chest like a punch I hadn't seen coming.
I wanted that. Wanted to be the one making him laugh. Wanted him to look at me the way he was looking at Rafael, like he was actually enjoying himself instead of counting down the minutes until he could leave my presence.
“Declan? You with me?”
I looked down. Jensen was staring at me with concern, leg still extended in the stretch position I'd put him in and apparently forgotten about.
Fuck. I was going to hurt someone through sheer negligence if I didn't get my head straight.
“Yeah. Sorry. Hold that for ten more seconds, then release.” I checked my watch, trying to look professional instead of distracted by my stepson sitting twenty feet away having the time of his life with someone else. “How's the pain level?”
“Four out of ten. Manageable.”
“Good. That's where we want it.”
I worked through the rest of his session on autopilot. My body went through the motions while my mind stayed stuck on Troy and Rafael, on the easy way they talked, on the fact that Troy had come here but hadn't said a word to me. Hadn't even tried.
What was he looking for? Proof that I was fine after the attack? Proof that I had a life outside the house? Proof that Rafael existed, that I'd been telling the truth about having a business partner?
Or was he just avoiding being alone with me, using Rafael as a buffer, showing up here because it was the one place he knew I couldn't corner him for a conversation?
By the time I finished with Jensen, my ribs were aching from the fight two nights ago. The cut above my eye throbbed. My hands felt stiff and swollen from gripping equipment too hard, from white-knuckling my way through sessions while Troy sat across the room not looking at me.
I'd pushed too hard today. Should have taken more time to heal. Should have let Mara handle the heavy clients while I did paperwork and administrative shit.
But sitting still meant thinking. Thinking meant spiraling. Spiraling meant ending up exactly where I was now, watching Troy smile at someone else and hating myself for caring.
The afternoon crawled by. I worked with three more clients, each session blurring into the next. Troy and Rafael stayed in the seating area, talking, their conversation apparently endless. At some point Troy pulled out his phone, showed Rafael a screen I couldn't see. Rafael laughed, said words that made Troy's mouth curve again.
I dropped a weight plate.
The crash echoed through the gym loud enough that everyone looked over. Including Troy.
Our eyes met across the space.
His expression shifted into worry so fast it was almost comical. Eyebrows pulled together, mouth going tight, body language screaming concern before he remembered he wasn't supposed to care and forced his face back to neutral.
Too late. I'd seen it.
