Page 84 of Rebel Hawke

That familiar hot rush covers my cheeks.

Shit.

So much for the “no talking during class” rule.

It disappeared as quickly as trying not to allow Atlas to touch me did.

I should have known as soon as I saw them enter the studio that there would be questions about why Atlas and I bailed on Hawke family Sunday dinner—the first one I was invited to since returning.

One thing I vividly remember from growing up is how much Nana hates when any of them miss, and she always demands an excuse that she may or may not deem valid.

I clear my throat. “You know, Atlas is on a strict diet now that he’s in training camp. He just didn’t want to be tempted to break it with all of Nana’s delicious cooking.”

Every single one of them smirks knowingly at me.

Yeah, that was bullshit, and I didn’t fool anyone.

Skye clears her throat, raising a hand. “Can we move on from discussing my son’s sex life, please?”

“Yes”—I nod vigorously—“for the love of God, please.” I clap my hands. “Now, every one of you is standing next to what’s called a reformer. This is going to be our main equipment during the classes, but we’ll also use the Pilates chairs behind you, the balance ball that’s slid under the reformer, and a few other things like hand weights—”

Allie cringes. “Ugh, this sounds awful.”

Angie shoots her sister a stern look, and Storm leans forward to do the same to her youngest daughter.

I fight a grin, ignoring her comment in favor of getting the class moving along—away from the many distractions that always seem to come with the Hawkes. “Let’s start by going over the parts of the machine and what they are used for. Then we’ll get down to business.”

Looking around the tight space, seeing all the reformers filled with faces of people who have always been so kind to me and always accepted me as part of their family even if I don’t share their blood, I find it nearly impossible to form the words that should be so easy to start the class.

Nora raises a brow at me. “You okay, dear?”

Am I?

I’ve been in New Orleans for two weeks, but my entire world has been flipped upside down, twisted inside out, and thrown onto its head.

Between Atlas, Satriano, opening this place, and trying to get Gramps’ finances settled to ensure he won’t end up in some government home when he can’t train anymore, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in uncertainty.

But this family has embraced me.

Bent over backward to help me ensure this place succeeds even when I didn’t ask for it.

Because that’s just the kind of people they are.

A real family, not only bound by blood.

I examine each of their smiling, expectant faces, waiting for instructions, when what I really want to do is start bawling and embrace each one of them.

That will have to wait untilafterclass.

“Yeah, just really happy to be home and to have you all here.”

She gives me a kind smile. “We’re happy you’re back, too.”

But no more time for mushy stuff.

I promised them an ass-kicking, and I need to give it to them.

ATLAS

---