Page 133 of Succumbed

Without waiting for an answer, I jog down the stairs. Shane is hot on my heels, the aggravated energy running through him since our disastrous flight back from Paris a tangible thing between us.

“You good?” I ask under my breath as we reach the landing.

“No.” His sharp blue eyes meet mine. “I will be, though.” He gestures to the punching bags. “Which one you want?”

“Speed bag.”

Jerking his chin in agreement, he turns to the freestanding heavy bag and rolls up the sleeves of his black button down. As Dec appears on the landing, Shane throws a vicious punch. It lands with a satisfying thunk. Dec pauses, his eyebrows inching toward his hairline, then continues.

“That for me, Shane?” Dec’s voice is gruff.

“Yep.”

We both freeze at his response. Shane is our peacekeeper. Even if we don’t talk about it, we all know it. He understands the two of us better than we understand ourselves, and he navigates conflicts between us with ease. Part of his technique, though, is keeping his own emotion out of it. He plays a mean Switzerland, but it seems he’s breaking with tradition. Aren’t we all?

“Out with it then.” Dec sounds resigned.

“Why don’t you unload what’s in your head.” Shane lands another punch as I step up to the speed bag.

“Of course,” Dec mutters, rolling his eyes. “Since I’m the only one who apparently doesn’t feel the need to be violent, I’ll just take a seat.”

He gestures toward the weight bench, seemingly looking for some form of acknowledgement. When he gets none, he huffs and slumps onto the bench. Like Shane, he’s already dressed for work, his business casual attire clashing with the gym equipment.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Dec announces. “I’m pissed.”

“No shit,” I grunt, my shoulder muscles bunching under my white tee.

“I don’t get how she can just turn it off. That day in Paris was…fuck, it was magic. And on the plane back she’s all business? What the fuck?”

“Explain something to me.”

I stop hitting the bag, the harsh tone of Shane’s voice grabbing all of my attention.

“Explain, Dec, how you’re so fucking smart and so goddamn dense at the same time.”

“Hey!” Dec protests.

“No, listen. How many business meetings did we have with Lex over the last three months?”

“I–I’m not sure…”

“I don’t need an exact count, Dec. But it was a lot, yes?” Shane’s whole body is a hard line as he turns to Dec, arms crossed.

“Yes?” Dec looks askance at me, confused.

“Right. A lot. And how many of those meetings happened while Linc or I were fucking Lex?”

I flinch. He’s making a point, but it still feels wrong to call what we have with Lex nothing more than ‘fucking’.

“Uh, most of them?”

“Right. And how many of those meetings revolved around our goddamn personal relationship?!” Shane’s volume steadily increases to a dull roar.

Dec sits roughly against the wall behind the bench, his eyes wide. “None of them.”

“Fucking. None. Of. Them,” Shane bites the words out. “What gave you the right to assume your relationship with her was so goddamn special she needed to change the dynamic we’ve had for the past three months?”

“I…I didn’t think of it that way, Shane, I–”

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