I cross the remaining distance in three strides, grab him by the back of his collar, and yank him away from her so hard he actually leaves his feet for a second before I slam him against the wall. My forearm comes up across his throat, pinning him there, and I'm in his face before he can process what's happening.
"Leave," I say.
My voice is low. Deadly calm. The kind of calm that comes right before violence.
His eyes go wide when he realizes who's holding him. "I was just talking to—"
"I don't care what you were doing." I press harder against his throat. Not enough to cut off air completely, but enough that he has to work for each breath. "You see her?"
I don't turn around to gesture at Chloe. I don't take my eyes off him. But he knows who I'm talking about.
"Y-yes."
"You don't go near her. You don't talk to her. You don't show up where she is. You don't text her. You don't exist in her world anymore. You understand me?"
"We just need to talk—"
"No." I lean in closer. "She said you broke up. That means it's over. That means you leave her the fuck alone."
"Who the hell are you?" he tries, attempting to sound tough. It doesn't work when your voice is shaking.
"I'm the person who's going to break every bone in your legs if I see you near her again," I tell him and I mean every word. "You'll never walk right. You'll limp for the rest of your life. Every step will remind you that you should have listened to me tonight."
His face goes pale. "Jesus Christ—"
"Do you understand me?"
"Yes. Yes, I understand."
"Good. Now get the fuck out of my gym and don't come back."
I release him and step back.
He slides down the wall slightly, catches himself, and then looks past me at Chloe. "Chloe, come on, we just need to—"
I move back into his space so fast he flinches. "What did I just say?"
"I’m sorry! I'm going. I'm going."
He scrambles away from me, pushing through the crowd, and I watch until I'm sure he's heading for the stairs, heading out, not coming back. Then I turn to Chloe.
She's pressed against the wall, both hands up near her chest, eyes wide behind her glasses. Her face is flushed, her breathing fast.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Yes," she says. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No. He just… He wouldn't leave. I kept telling him to go and he just kept talking."
The rage that sweeps through me is immediate. If that asshole was still here, I'd finish what I started. I'd make good on every threat I just made.
"I'm sorry," I say.
She blinks at me. "For what?"
"For being aggressive. For handling it like that right in front of you. I should have—"
