Page 103 of Rebel Hawke

No one finds their soul mate, the person they’re meant to spend the rest of their life with, the one who is their perfect match in every way, when they’reeight.

At least, you’re not supposed to.

Atlas seems to have proven me wrong.

And now that the rule is out the window and we’ve said those three little words, it feels like things are finallyright.

We can focus on his recovery and training without all the tension built up between us.

Maybe he’ll actually be ready to face whatever is going to happen in that ring the night of the hotel opening. But it’s what might happenoutsidethe ring that keeps nagging in the back of my head.

Satriano showing up and asking about Atlas wasn’t random.

He has something up his sleeve.

Something we won’t like.

16

ONE MONTH UNTIL TITLE FIGHT

WREN

Iscan the studio filled with my regular late-morning class, completing our final arm exercises of the day. The tinted film covering the front windows helps block the bright sunlight from streaming in and warming up the studio, which also makes keeping track of time harder.

Glancing at the clock, I clap my hands to signal the final rep. “All right. We have five more minutes. You’ve all worked hard today, so let’s do some feet in straps.”

A chorus of cheers goes up, like it always does when we move to everyone’s favorite Pilates exercise, and they all lie down on their beds and get their feet positioned.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to jump on one myself.

With almost all my time spent running classes or working with Atlas, I’ve barely had a chance to run through any flows myself.

My gaze drifts to the Cadillac machine, which has only been getting used with my private clients, and I can almost feel thepull and stretch it gives me even though I haven’t gotten on in several days.

Make time for yourself.

I keep trying to remind myself I need to, but there are other things that are more important right now.

Like finishing this class so I can peek in on Atlas and Gramps next door and see how he’s progressing.

Examining each student on their reformers, I check their body positions. “That’s right. Keep the lower back pressed down to the bed. Legs straight up. You all know the drill.”

They should by now, after almost six weeks of classes.

Most of these people come in at least a few times a week.

Regulars.

I still can’t believe I have them or that the studio has so quickly developed such an intense following—all thanks to the Hawkes.

Most of these people are their friends.

Referred by them and encouraged to try it out that first week.

“Let’s start up and down. Smooth motions. After ten, we’ll start leg circles counterclockwise.”

I watch them perform each action, stepping in to adjust any body positioning. As I stand, the room spins a little, my head getting foggy and my vision blurring.

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