Page 132 of Rebel Hawke

He scowls at me as the door opens again behind me.

Jesus Christ, who now?

I turn toward it and find Astrid approaching, a solemn look on her face that looks so much like mine. “What are you doing here?”

She inclines her head toward Isaac. “Probably the same thing he is—checking on you.”

Scoffing, I swipe my forearm across my brow to capture some of the sweat, annoyance replacing my anger. “I’m not a fucking child.”

Astrid snorts as she approaches, undeterred by my attitude this morning. Though she rarely is. For all her quiet, reserved nature, Astrid doesn’t get intimidated easily. And certainly not by me. “That’s debatable.”

I hold out my hands for her to unstrap my gloves rather than have to do it myself with my teeth. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

A grin plays at her lips as she aggressively tugs on the Velcro to unseal one of them. “Maybe that bullet rearranged something more than just my insides.”

Hell…

While it’s said in jest, something about the tremor in her voice makes me glance up as she tugs off the first glove. And for the first time since the shooting, I reallyseeher.

I look past my own pain and get a glimpse of hers—what I couldn’t perceive before, even when we shared a damn hospital room, because I wouldn’t allow myself to.

Partially because I couldn’t and because I didn’t want to.

Because asking her to open up meant she would do the same to me.

“Astrid…”

She pulls my other glove free and gives me a tight smile. “Don’t. I’m good.”

We both know she’s lying. But she doesn’t want to talk about it now. And after spending months pushing everyone away, shutting down, and dodging the inquisition when all I wanted was to be left alone, I’m not about to push her if she’s not ready or willing to discuss it.

I lock gazes with her, ensuring she knows thatIknow she’s lying and that we will have a conversation later, and she turns and walks over to the ring.

Isaac wanders over to the bench next to it and lowers himself onto it, trying to appear casual when he continues to assess me with that “lawyer” look.

Shaking out my hands, I watch Astrid set my gloves beside my bag. “Did Mom and Dad tell you to come?”

She gives me an annoyed look. “No. I just had a feeling I should.”

Of course, she did.

Sharing a womb makes having any sort of privacy impossible for the rest of my life, apparently. Though, it goes both ways. The strange feelings I get that tell me to call her, the dreams that seem to coincide with hers, the way I can sometimeshearwhat she’s saying without her ever uttering a word.

When I want to be left alone, it can be annoying. Intrusive. But at the end of the day, she’s another part of me, and I can’t be mad at her for wanting to check on me when I obviously need it.

I turn to the other intruder in the fancy suit. “And what about you?”

Isaac holds up his palms defensively. “I was told to come,explicitly.”

Snorting, I offer him a scowl. “By whom?”

“My dad and Uncle Savage”—he looks away for a second, clearing his throat to try to cover the last few words—“and your dad.”

Fucking hell.

Dad would send Isaac rushing to do his dirty work.

Isaac leans back against the ring, crossing his arms over his chest casually. “Surprised he didn’t come himself. I think he wanted to, but he probably figured you’d lock the door on the gym before you’d ever let him in here right now.”

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