Page 207 of Blood & Betrayals

I miss you too, big guy.

That little nagging feeling that’s become more present since I started forming relationships churns inside me. It seems to chant, “Tell him, tell him, tell him.”

Connor

You get home safe?

Fuck. The claws of guilt rake down my back.

Summer

I’m home safe.

It’s not quite a lie. My response is perfectly crafted so that it sits just above that gray area.

Connor replies with a selfie of him spread out on his king-size bed, his blue sheets mussed beneath him from our earlier activities. He’s only wearing boxers, and he looks so fucking cute as he winks up at the camera.

Connor

Could have stayed over.

I can’t help but laugh, and the sound surprises me.

Summer

Goodnight, Con.

Connor

Goodnight, Sum.

82

Summer

The sun has just risen when I climb out of bed. My sleep was fitful and plagued by nightmares, and I feel more tired than when I went to bed last night. I get dressed, doing my best to keep my mind blank and focused in the moment, which only lasts until I am outside, and fear rushes over me again. My body remembers all too well the terror of last night. I hurry toward the gym, anticipating the moment that gaze will land on me again. It never comes, and I arrive at the gym without further drama.

I’m surprised to see Max sitting at the front desk. He has headphones on and appears to be studying from a large textbook. I ignore him, still pissed at him after yesterday. I walk straight to my favorite treadmill and start the machine, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the run. Tension grips my shoulders, and I try to push past it, but peace never finds me. I give up after around ten minutes and switch to one of the punching bags.

“Still pissed?” Max asks, having finally noticed me.

Without looking at him, I flip him off before slamming my fist into the punching bag. I bristle as he enters my space, but he just walks around the bag and holds it from the other side, stabilizing it while I hit it.

“What exactly are you mad about?” he asks, an eyebrow quirked.

I continue to punch the heavy bag. “You’ve always been a bit of a dick, Max.” I slam my fist into the bag again, trying to hit it so hard that he will lose balance. “But I also thought you were fair, and yesterday, you weren’t fair.” I throw another punch, but Max just stands there, annoyingly stable. “I know people won’t play fair when I’m out in the wild. That is a lesson I learned long ago. I get it.” After another hard hit, my knuckles start to throb. “But yesterday was supposed to be just you and me training, and that jab was nothing but an asshole move because I’d pinned you.”

Max watches me for a long moment before replying. “You’ve excelled at fighting hand to hand, progressing very quickly. It was time to move you to the next level, which meant fighting dirty. Making moves you don’t expect.”

I slam my fist into the bag again, and my hand throbs in protest. “Not without telling me. That makes me lose all trust in you.”

“From one cheap shot? You did the same to me, if you recall. You only get pissed when it’s against you?”

I snarl. “I didn’t know what a cheap shot was when I did it.”

“Bullshit,” Max hisses.

I shake my head, stepping back from the punching bag.

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