He'd been watching me. Tracking my movements the same way I'd been tracking his. Noticing when I dropped things, when I favored my left side, when I moved like my ribs were still healing.
The realization settled in my chest in a way I didn't know what to do with.
He'd come here to check on me. Not to see Rafael. Not to tour the facility. To make sure I was okay after getting jumped in an alley, because apparently Troy gave a shit even when he was pretending he didn't.
I picked up the weight plate and reracked it. Turned back to my client without acknowledging Troy's concern, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing I'd noticed.
At some point Mara appeared at my elbow with coffee.
“Jenkins is complaining about his knee again,” she said.
“He always complains about his knee.”
“I know. But this time he wants you to look at it. Says it's different.” She handed me the cup. “I told him you're not a doctor, but he doesn't give a shit.”
“Of course he doesn't.” I took the coffee, drank it black and bitter. Let the heat ground me. “What time's he coming in?”
“Thursday. Three o'clock.”
“Great. Can't wait to hear about how his knee is falling apart for the hundredth time.”
Mara snorted. “You love it and you know it. Makes you feel useful.”
“Makes me feel like a babysitter.”
“Same thing with this crowd.” She glanced over at the seating area where Troy and Rafael were still deep in conversation. “Your stepson and Rafael are getting along pretty well.”
“Yeah. I noticed.”
“Rafael's good people. Talks a lot, but good people.”
“I know.”
She studied me for a second with eyes that saw too much. “You want me to send them home? I can make up a reason to close early.”
“No. It's fine.”
“Liar. But fine.” She walked off, leaving me alone with the coffee and the sound of Troy laughing at whatever the hell Rafael had just said.
The last client of the day was a runner rehabbing a stress fracture. Easy work. Mostly education and form correction. I finished the session, made my notes, and started cleaning up my station while trying not to watch Troy out of the corner of my eye.
Failed spectacularly at that too.
He was looking at me now. Not even pretending to pay attention to Rafael anymore. Just watching me move through the space, cataloging the way I cleaned equipment, the way I organized resistance bands, the way I existed in a world he'd never seen me in.
The weight of his attention made my skin feel too tight.
I wanted to cross the room. Wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing here, why he'd come if he was just going to sit there and not talk to me, why he was looking at me like he was trying to solve a problem he couldn't name.
But there were too many people around. Too many witnesses. Too much I couldn't say in a space where everyone knew me as the steady one, the professional, the man who had his shit together.
That's when Rafael appeared with Troy beside him.
“Heading out,” Rafael said. Easy and casual, like this was completely normal. “Thought I'd give Troy a tour of the city. Show him what's changed since he left.”
I looked at Troy. He was staring at the floor, jaw tight, hands back in his pockets. Body language screaming discomfort in a way that didn't match Rafael's easy tone.
“That right?” I asked.
