Page 36 of Captain's Claim

It isn’t.

Their laughter follows me out of the lounge, and by the time I hit the gym, I’m already one wrong comment away from snapping.

Luckily, the gym is empty, save for the steadythwack, thwack, thwackof my fists slamming into the heavy bag after I quickly get changed.

Once I start, I don’t stop. Can't stop.

My knuckles ache. Sweat drips down my back, soaking into the waistband of my shorts. The rhythmicthudof impact echoes around me, but it does nothing to drown out the chaos in my head.

Harder.

I hit again, ignoring the sharp sting in my knuckles.

Harder.

Harder.

"Alright, chill, Mike Tyson. That bag didn’t insult your mother."

I whip around, my chest heaving, sweat racing down my body. Connor stands a few feet away, arms folded, a knowing smirk creeping across his face.

"Go away." I reach for my water bottle, popping the cap and taking a long pull.

"Can’t," he drawls, stepping closer. "Too fascinating watching you absolutelyobliteratethat thing." He tilts his head, studying me like he’s putting pieces together. "So. Who’s got you this twisted up?"

I exhale sharply, rolling my shoulders. "It’s nothing."

Connor lets out a low whistle. "Oof. That was a hard deflection, man."

"Jesus, drop it."

He grins, leaning against the weight rack. "Nope."

I shoot him my best "I will end you" glare, which has all the intimidating power of an angry kitten right now.

Connor slaps his hands together. "Alright, let’s break it down. You're wound up tighter than my grandma at Thanksgiving dinner. You haven’t said more than two words to anyone since yesterday. You just attempted tomurdera punching bag. That means one of three things: One, you lost a shit-ton of money betting on Boston last night—"

I shoot him a glare.

"Okay, scratch that one." He counts off on his fingers. "Two, you got some real bad news - like, life-ruining bad."

Silence.

His smirk widens. "Or three… this is about a woman."

My jaw ticks.

Connor snaps his fingers, grinning. "Ohhh shit, itisa woman."

I mutter a curse, tossing my water bottle onto the bench.

Connor just laughs. "Man, Ilovebeing right."

I scowl and wipe the sweat off my face with a fresh towel. "You gonna shut up anytime soon?"

Connor shakes his head, still smirking. "Nah, I think I’m gonna enjoy this for a minute."

I shoot him a look, but he just watches me, that smirk still there but something sharper behind it now.

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