Fuck.
This is exactly what I don’t need.
She’s getting under my skin in a way that doesn’t make sense, in a way I don’t like, and in a way I definitely don’t trust, because I don’t do this, don’t get attached, don’t let someone who’s only been here a few weeks matter more than my own control.
And the worst part?
I don’t want her to stop.
I shove that thought down hard, like I can crush it before it takes root.
No.
Not happening.
I grab my phone before I can think too much about it and call Jude, already moving toward the stairs because I need out of here, need distance, need something to hit before I start thinking too clearly about the way she looked at me.
He picks up on the second ring. “Yeah.”
“I need the ring,” I say, not slowing down. “You up for it?”
There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough that I know he’s already figured out this isn’t about a workout.
“Okay.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
He hangs up, and I don’t waste time. Upstairs, change, hoodie, sweats, boots, a quick text to Stephen to close up tonight, no explanation, no room for questions, and then I’m out the door before I can second-guess it.
Before I can think about her.
About the way her body locked up under someone else’s touch.
About how close I came to doing something I wouldn’t take back.
Jude’s barn sits at the edge of the property, dark wood against a sky heavy with snow, the light inside spilling through the cracks like a quiet invitation, and the second I step in, the smell hits me. Hay, cold air, leather, sweat. All of it grounding in a way nothing else is right now.
The ring sits in the middle, ropes worn but solid, canvas marked from years of use, and Jude is already there, of course he is, moving with that same quiet precision he always has, his fists hitting the heavy bag in slow, steady strikes that don’t waste energy, don’t show off, just land exactly where they’re meant to.
He doesn’t look at me when I walk in.
Just keeps going.
Like he already knows.
I strip off my jacket and toss it aside, grabbing the wraps and winding them around my hands, tighter than necessary, like if I pull hard enough I can hold everything in place, keep it from slipping.
Jude finally glances over, eyes dark and unreadable, then jerks his chin toward the ring.
No questions.
He never asks.
I climb in, rolling my shoulders as I wait for him, my body already tight, already coiled, like it knows exactly what I came here for.
He finishes with the bag and joins me, adjusting his gloves with that same quiet focus, and the second he’s ready, he comes at me without warning.
Fast.
