Page 13 of Rebel Hawke

Atlas “Sweet” Hawke doesn’t have the same ring as “The Hurricane” and wouldn’t strike fear into the hearts of my opponents the way I need it to. But I don’t want Wren to be afraid of me.

Far from it.

I yearn to say more, to assure her that she’s stunningly beautiful and still the same girl I had such a huge crush on. Confirm there isn’t any reason for her to try to shy away from me. But she turns away and fiddles with the machine yet again.

An awkward silence settles over us, something I never remember experiencing with her when we were kids.

“Well…” I clear my throat, rubbing at the back of my neck. “You’ll let me know if I can help in any way with any setup, right?”

She peeks back and gives me another taut smile. “Of course.”

I motion to the gym. “I’m here every day with your grandpa, and Isaac and Bishop spend a lot of time in the ring or on the bags, too. The rest of the family comes and goes to watch me train, so I’m sure you’ll see everyone and be able to catch up soon.” I smile at her, hoping she can see how sincerely happy I am to see her.Morethan happy, actually. After a shit morning, having Wren back has suddenly given me something to look forward to besides pain and having the family up my ass about my shoulder. “The girls will be thrilled you’re back.”

Her lips curl into the first genuine smile I’ve seen since I came in here. “I’ve missed them.”

“They’ve missed you, too. A couple of weeks ago, Astrid was asking Jimmy when you were going to come visit. He was a little cagey about it, and now I get why. You were already planning to come back?”

She glances down at her feet in her pink slides that match her outfit. “Yeah. Well, I kind of wanted to get settled first before Idove into the Hawke swimming pool again. So, it was my fault he didn’t say anything.”

Fighting a laugh, I grin at her. “Are we all that bad?”

Her head snaps up, and she meets my gaze with wide, concerned eyes. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just fucking with you, Wren.” I chuckle. “Relax. I know how it can be when we’re all hovering, but having all the extra manpower can really be useful. Jimmy says they’re delivering the machines soon.”

She nods, examining the empty space. “Yeah, I think I’m going to paint my logo on that wall over there by the door to the gym and do the window cling for the front to try to keep the sun out and prevent it from getting too hot in here. A few other things like a basic deep scrubbing, but honestly”—she sighs and kind of throws out a hand—“I don’t really have to do that much except find clients.”

I follow her gaze, trying to imagine what this might look like when she’s done. “I’ll be honest. I don’t know a thing about Pilates.”

Wren laughs, the sound light and airy, shattering that tension that had formed between us. “Most people don’t, unless you’re a suburban housewife.”

Huffing a chuckle, I shake my head. “Definitely not that. It’s like yoga, right?”

She scowls at me, the move so adorable in the way it takes her soft features and tries to morph them. My fingers actually itch to reach out and touch her lips, to wipe it away and return the smile there, but I fight the urge.

“No, it isn’t like yoga, Atlas. What I teach is reformer Pilates. It’s a lot different.”

There’s the feisty girl I knew.

Wren was never afraid to stand her ground or speak up for herself, and I’m glad to see whatever uneasiness she had around me seems to have dissipated.

“This is what you went to school for, to teach Pilates?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m actually a physical therapist. I started teaching Pilates because it’s really great in combination with that training.” Her slender shoulders rise and fall. “And I love it.”

Physical therapists have never done anything for me.

The constant ache in my shoulder after today’s session proves it.

Countless hours spent rehabbing it, and it still feels like absolute shit anytime I move—and especially when I land a punch. But I’m confident I wouldn’t have hated my time with my P.T. if it had been with Wren.

She’s exactly what I imagined she would be like when I thought about her over the years—strong, resilient, fucking beautiful…

There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’ll make this work.

“I’m sure your studio is going to do great, Wren. My family knows plenty of suburban housewives to send your way…”

She laughs again. “I wouldgreatlyappreciate that.”

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