Page 18 of Click of Fate

She chuckles as the door closes behind her, and just like that, she’s gone.

Exhaling through my nose, I roll my shoulders.

Well, that’s the end of that.

I walk through my apartment and back to my room; the space still smells like her. My sheets are a mess. We had somegreat fucking sex last night—which led to some great fucking sex well into the morning.

I shake my head as I yank my sheets and comforter up for a quick fix. As I walk into my bathroom for a cold shower, I tell myself to get over it.

Right.

The rhythmic scuff of climbing shoes against the walls, the sharp click of carabiners locking into place, and the occasional grunted encouragement from a belayer fill the air of Squeaky Bum Climb. Chalk dust lingers in the air, settling into the grooves of the padded floors, mixing with the familiar scent of effort and ambition. I lean against the front desk, taking it all in. This place isn’t just a gym—it’s energy, movement, a community built one climb at a time. Every person here—from the seasoned pros scaling overhangs like gravity’s a myth to the nervous first-timers hovering at the base of a route—is here for the same thing…to push past what they thought they couldn’t do. And watching it happen, knowing I built this place to make it possible? Yeah. That never gets old.

Crossing my arms, I watch a group of beginners get their harnesses adjusted. They could use some help, and normally I’d head over there, but Manny, my newest hire, can handle it.

I also can’t focus worth a damn today.

I should be locked in.

This is my turf. When I’m here, I’mhere—and it’s all about the climb. It’s about how I can bring the climb to more people. How I can make the climb even better for those who have already found passion in it.

But fuck me, I can’t keep my head on straight today.

It’s been ten days since my night with Stella. Since she walked out of my apartment. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Not that I expected to. I knew what I was getting into with her. One night, no strings, no numbers exchanged. She made that clear as day.

But that doesn’t explain why I’ve half expected to see her walk through the front doors every day this week.

Like I keep telling myself, she’s probably long gone by now. Some other city, some other life. I was just a passing moment for her.

Shaking it off, I force myself back to work. I have bigger things to focus on.

I turn, heading toward the back offices, when I fall into step with Maddie, my marketing specialist.

“I was wondering if you remember our meeting? It’s in, like, two minutes,” she says.

“Yeah, I didn’t forget,” I tell her. But again, where’s my head?

Squinting up at me, she says, “You’re weird today.”

“Weird how?” I ask, looking out at the floor.

“Distractedweird. Like maybe you had a very good or very bad night and now it’s throwing you off your game," she says flatly.

Smirking, I shake my head. “I don’t get thrown off.”

Deadpan, she replies, “Sure. And I don’t drink iced coffee like its oxygen.”

I chuckle at that as she veers off her own office.

“Be there in a minute; start without me, if you must,” she calls over her shoulder.

Stepping into my office, I hear the ding of an incoming call on my computer. I walk over to my desk and hit theacceptbutton, and after a few seconds, Uncle Ray takes up the screen. Wearing his usual Squeaky Bum hoodie, his knowing, sharp eyes look down at something, and I’m hit with a feeling of warmthand love. This man may not be my father, but he’s played the roll for nearly two decades now. When my dad, Ray’s brother, died in a car accident when I was seven, Ray stepped in without hesitation. He taught me how to climb, how to run a business, and how to deal with people. He also taught me about being a man, how to treat a lady, helped me through my first breakup, and gave me my first box of condoms—which was an awkward-as-fuck conversation. In every way it counts, this man has been a father to me.

Noticing I’m now on the call, Ray looks up, grinning. “Tell me my golden boy isn’t burning down my brand in Indy.”

I smirk. “Not yet, but the week is still young.”

He laughs as Maddie slides into the chair across from me, setting down a giant iced coffee withFix Membershipsscribbled in Sharpie on the lid.

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