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“It’s not about handling it,” he says, voice rough. “It’s about being smart. “Push too hard, too fast, and you’ll hurt yourself more.”

The protectiveness is there, lurking beneath his professional front. I recognize it because I’ve seen him direct it at me countless times in crowds, in rooms full of people, in family gatherings when he positioned himself between me and any threat.

“I’m not made of glass,” I remind him, arms crossed. “I’m a nurse. I know my limits.”

Something flashes in his eyes, respect. “All right then. Show me your stance.”

Feet shoulder-width apart, I raise my hands in what I hope is a defensive position. Carter circles me, eyes critical.

“Widen your stance,” he instructs, stopping in front of me. “You’re too narrow. Need a solid base.”

I adjust, feeling the stretch in muscles that haven’t been tested for weeks.

“Better.” He nods. “Now, the key to self-defense isn’t fancy moves. It’s awareness. Spot threats before they show up.”

He steps closer, invading my space. My heart races, not from fear, but his nearness. I can smell the clean sweat on his skin, see the droplets beading along his hairline.

“What are you looking at right now?” he asks, voice low, making the hairs on my arms stand up.

“You,” I manage, my voice steadier than I’d expect.

“Good. But I’m not the threat. The threat is—” He pivots suddenly, reaching for my wrist.

I wrench my arm, twisting my body with the movement. It’s clumsy, but it’s just enough to break his purposefully light grip. Surprise flashes across his face—not that I escaped, but that I reacted so fast.

“Not bad,” he says, approval in his voice. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I didn’t.” I stare at my hand, amazed. “It just… happened.”

He nods slow. “That’s your survival instinct. It’s there, beneath everything else. We just need to train it.”

That realization flicks a switch inside me. Not pride, but possibility. I might be capable of more than I thought.

“Today, we’ll focus on escaping,” Carter continues, back in instructor mode. “Basic wrist releases, breaking grips, creating distance.”

For the next hour, he pushes me relentlessly. He demonstrates techniques with precision, then has me practice against his resistance. Each time he grabs my wrist or wraps an arm around my neck, my body responds before my mind catches up. It’s exhausting work, physically demanding in ways I hadn’t expected, but with every successful escape, something inside me grows stronger.

“You’re a natural,” Carter says during a water break, handing me a bottle. “Most people overthink. You just react.”

I take a long drink, letting the cool water soothe my throat. “Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” His eyes meet mine over his water bottle. “Stop thinking, start reacting. Your brain is three seconds behind your body.”

The words hang between us, a shadow crossing his face. He’s thinking about that night, what could have happened if help hadn’t arrived.

“Hey.” I touch his arm, surprising us both. “I’m here. I’m safe.”

His hand covers mine, warm and calloused. “I know. Doesn’t stop me from—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is making sure it never happens again.”

We’re interrupted by the gym door opening. Teenagers flood in, laughing and shoving. Carter’s hand drops from mine as he changes back to instructor mode.

“Same time tomorrow?” I ask, reluctant to leave.

“If you’re up for it.” His eyes search mine for any hesitation. “We can take it slow.”

“I don’t want slow,” I remind him, echoing my earlier words. “I want effective.”

Pride flickers in his eyes. “Then effective it is. Tomorrow, we work on striking.”