Page 106 of The Chance

And my chest isaching.

Calling after its other half, desperate to be whole once again.

Who was I kidding?

It’ll only ever be him.

“Jordan!”

A hand lands on my shoulder and spins me away, engulfing me in the group of fans requesting autographs and pictures.

When I come up for air, he’s gone.

Taking my heart along with him.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Jordan

Sixteen … Seventeen …

The gym might be closed for the night, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in it.

Eighteen … Nineteen …

Clinking of weight resting on metal with each rep keeps me counting them over the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

It’s become like a sort of meditation that helps bring me down.

Twenty.

And after damn near running into Peach earlier, I hightailed it right back here for just that kind of peace. Lemon claims I’m hiding, but I disagree.

Avoiding, maybe.

Letting the bar drop back on the shoulder press with a thud, I lean forward and let the song wash over me as Dave Grohl rasps about having a confession.

Is he giving his best to someone else?

“Here.”

I don’t get a chance to react before a towel is thrown in my face.

“Thanks,” I mutter and wipe the sweat from my brow.

But when I look up, it’s not the tiny wingman on the other side of the toss like I expected.

Everything in me locks up. Breath leaving audibly.

When I swallow, it clicks.

“A gym?” Mac asks, brow raised. “How very Tyro of you.”

It takes what feels like minutes of staring at the drummer for my body to thaw and my muscles to move.

I’m up off the seat, closing the distance in a heartbeat.

Mac. Mac. Mac.

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