Page 27 of Wicked

Me inviting myself over to Harper’s for that Netflix binging that never happened.

He shoves me off him and gestures for me to follow him deep inside the gym. We bypass the usual machines. Treadmill. Elliptical. Rows and rows of stationary bikes. We head into weightlifting territory next. I eye the bench presses. This is more my style and speed. I’m not a fan of running or cycling in place. I’m Pacific Northwest born and bred, and I prefer to be outdoors every chance I get.

We keep walking toward the back of the gym. I hear him first before I see him.

“Jab. Upper cut. Hook. Jab. Upper cut. Hook. Faster. Faster. Switch.”

Deep voice. Authoritative.Shephard.

Brett and I push through the wall of men and take a spot in front. The men we pushed at grumbled, but I don’t give a flying fuck.

Harper is in the middle of the boxing ring, and she’s holding her own with him. The orders he barked seconds earlier have stopped. He’s going at her with his fists.

No words are spoken. The two move in tandem, a dangerous dance of hard punches and rapid blocks. When Harper’s punches slow and her blocks become sluggish, Shephard calls it, clutching her closed fist in his palm.

“You’re done for the day, Garrix. Go home.”

She hunches over, her breathing ragged.

“More.”

It’s so fucking quiet, I swear I hear beads of her sweat hit the mat.

“What did you say?”

He postures over her with his hands on his hips, looking down at her. Is Harper asking for more a damn inconvenience? Or does it go against a fucked-up power play of theirs? I shake my head. Shephard’s a mother-effing jerk.

“I said more. I need this, Shephard.”

“What you need is to give it a rest already.”

She’s quiet. Not in a timid way, but strong. I see myself in her. The quiet resolve to be better. To push myself harder past the point of exhaustion.

But it’s not better she’s after. She needs an outlet to express her grief. An expression that doesn’t take tears. Her heartache requires something more. Her fists. Her quick reflexes, dodging punches. Hitting back at the bastard who killed her strong but murderous father.

When I held Harper that night, she cried for the loss of her parents and the innocence of a childhood stained by violence. What she went through would bring a guy like me, who’s never had such devasting losses, to his knees.

For her to let a guy she hardly knows hold her tight as she lost herself to sleep to later toss and turn . . . I clench my jaw. Those damn nightmares of hers. Something to do with ghosts and vengeance. I’d cocooned her in my arms and soothed her as best I could, having never had that kind of experience, comforting a girl through her nightmares.

Allowing me to do those things after confessing she felt “vulnerable” took trust.

I’m trusting the “more” she needs goes beyond emotional heartache. Harper craves the physical release that makes the muscles burn, the joints ache, and the body want to slump over with sheer exhaustion.

“Give her another round, man.” My voice booms in the silence. The men haven’t left. They loiter. No wonder the weight room is empty.

“Who the fuck are you?” He storms over to the edge of the ring.

“Someone who gives a shit what Harper needs.” I step forward, not afraid of the dickwad.

We’re eye to eye. Bold ink on his crossed arms. Scowl on his face. Deep brown hair like mine. A scar transecting his left brow. I take another step. Suck in a breath when it hits me.

Shit, it’s like looking at an older version of myself. He runs his glare over me. Quirks a brow. He’s thinking the same. I shake away the godawful suspicion Harper’s eyes didn’t widen in interest when I stared back the night of the party. Her eyes widened because I looked like her “complicated” friend.

I don’t let the murmurs derail me. The guys are catching on too. We could be brothers. Are we and we’re yanking their chain? Is that why he tolerated me speaking up for Harper? I’m certain that’s what the guys are talking smack about.

“She asked for more, man. Being the good friend you are to her, give her another round.”

I’m testing him. Testing what he is to her. To a girl I suddenly give a care for.

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