Page 66 of Branded Hearts

I need an outlet, something to blow off this steam. If I can’t fuck it out, sweating it out’s the next best thing.

The old-school way.

Mid-rep, I push the barbell up, the weight heavy and unyielding. My muscles burn with the effort, but I welcome the pain.

It means I’m here, in the moment, not lost in my thoughts. The gym is quiet this late in the afternoon, which surprises me. Usually it’s pumping.

Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” blares through my AirPods, the aggressive riffs fueling my intensity. I’m working on my chest and back today, pushing myself harder than usual. The bench press bar holds 120kg, the weight a familiar challenge. I bring it down slowly, feeling the strain in my chest and arms, then push it back up with agrunt.

After a set of ten, I rack the barbell and sit up, wiping sweat from my brow. I move to the pull-up bar next, grabbing it with a firm grip. I pull myself up, feeling the muscles in my back engage, then lower myself down slowly. The pull-ups are brutal, each one a test of strength and endurance.

But I need this.

I need to exhaust myself, to drown out the chaos in my mind.

The physical exertion helps, but it doesn’t fully silence my thoughts. I grab the dumbbells next, going for the heavier set. I start with chest flies, the weights heavy in my hands as I stretch my arms out and then bring them back together. The motion is controlled, deliberate, each rep a way to focus my mind.

I finish my last set and sit down on the bench. This time, “Chaos” by I Prevail starts playing, the heavy, driving rhythm matching my need to stay focused.

I stand up, take a deep breath, and move on to the next exercise, determined to keep my mind occupied for a little while longer. As I run on the treadmill, my headphones announce a phone call, and Siri reads out the number, signalling that it’s not saved into my contacts.

My heart drops when I recognise those digits.

I quickly take my phone from my pocket to read the number, confirming it’s Amelia’s—the one I hadn’t saved in my phone because, well... I wasn’t sure if that’s something I should do.

Panic sets in.Why would she be calling?

My intuition tells me something isn’t right. I answer after it ringsagain, and say, “Hello,” but what I hear on the other end freezes me to my core.

“Bradley, oh, my god, I don’t know what to do,” Amelia’s voice comes through, shaky and panicked, her voice an octave higher and more hurried than normal. “I didn’t know who else to call. I panicked, so I called you.”

My mind races. “What’s wrong?” I demand, trying to see if I can hear anything in the background. I can hear water running and an echo. Is she in the bathroom?

“Oh, my god, it’s getting closer. Shit, shit, shit!” she says in a state of panic. She’sswearing. That means something is definitely wrong.

What is coming closer?

“Please, c-can you come here? I’m t-trapped. I can’t move,” she pleads, and I don’t have to be asked twice. I stop the machine, grab my stuff, and storm out of the gym.

“Just stay there. I’m coming.”

“Okay. There is a spare key under the mat,” she says, before I hang up and speed to get to her place. I don’t care at this moment if I’m breaking the law.

I’ll run every red light if it means I get to her sooner.

21

Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

I’m in the shower, the steam thick around me, my heart pounding as I stare at the massive fuckingsnakeon the floor.

A SNAKE.

Where did it even come from? I’m on the first floor. Can snakes even slither up walls? All I do know is that Idefinitelyscreamed my apartment down when I saw it. I didn’t know who else to call. So, I called the first person I could think of, despite my internal panic.

I called out to Siri to call Bradley on speaker, praising the lord I had saved his number under a contact and that I’d brought my phone into the shower with me.

After just getting off the phone with him, reality sinks in. I’m standing here, completely naked, my towel innocently hanging on the rack near the door—the same spot the bloody snake has now decided to make its resting place. Dread tightens its grip on me.

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