Page 75 of Official

The rest of the gym and world continue around me while I lose myself in the movement—my happy place.

Sweat trickles down my neck and stomach, and my calves tremble as I walk the bar back to the rack, careful not to use my hurt hand to lift it off my shoulders.

And the nagging thoughts come barreling back into my mind as if to ask, “Did you think it’d be that easy to forget us?”

I blow out a frustrated breath, and when I spin around, I come face-to-face with Jason and his smug grin.

“Surprised to see you here,” he says, nudging my shoulder with his as he steps around me toward the rack. He slings his bag onto the floor next to mine, then faces me again, his eyebrows raised.

“I’m a member here. It’s just as much my gym as anyone else’s.” I wave around the room, the sun from the open garage door shining on me like a spotlight.

And the hair on the back of my neck rises.

“I just didn’t think you’d ever come out of hiding with all the embarrassing shit going around.” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a once-over. “Where is yourboyfriend, anyway?”

The mocking way he says the word grates on every last nerve. The ass is enjoying his attempt at making me squirm, but I refuse to let him have that kind of control over me anymore.

The last straw snaps when he laughs and removes a plate from the end of the bar, making my eye twitch.

“I’m not finished here,” I say in a low but firm tone.

“I think you’re done,” he asserts over his shoulder, then puts the plate down and spins toward me again. “You’re done here and online. No one in the fitness industry respects you anymore.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and laugh. “You’re trying awfully hard to make me look like some loser who should just give up,” I throw back, stepping up to him and meeting him chest to chest. “Seems to me like you’re the loser who’s heavily intimidated by a strong woman. Especially one who’s stronger than you in every fucking sense of the word.”

He scoffs. “That’s a stretch.”

“You think so? Then answer me this—why were you so adamant about keeping us a secret when I didn’t want to? Why did you insist on showing off your female friends but never once posted a picture of you next to me? Obviously, you want attention, given how hard you’ve milked my mistakes the last few weeks. What could be the reasoning?”

I tap my chin with exaggeration, then cut him off before he has a chance to respond, taking another step toward him and forcing him backward with every word. “Here’s what I think—you wanted me to fail to make yourself feel better. You were waiting desperately for it. All because you’re an insecure man who’s as small and puny as his dick.”

There’s a low hum from behind me, which is when I realize we’ve attracted an audience.

An audience with camera phones pointed right to us.

Shit.

Jason stumbles over the plate he removed from the bar, and the arrogant confidence he walked up to me with is nowhere to be found.

Even when he rights himself, he stands just a little shorter than before.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen.” I wave over the plate and nod toward the bar. “You’re going to put that back where I had it, and then you’re going to leave me the hell alone. Don’t tag me on social media. Don’t utter my name to your followers or friends. Forget you and I ever breathed the same air at all. I already have.”

Jason peers over my shoulder at the crowd still huddled around us, but I don’t turn. I stare him down as my blood continues boiling, and my chest heaves, courtesy of the adrenaline coursing through me from finally telling him off.

“Listen, baby, can we talk about this somewhere else?” he whispers to me, his eyes still stuck on the people.

“Now,” I grind out and stand my ground.

Frowning, he crouches down, picks up the plate, and racks it. Then he grabs his bag and storms out of here with a sad entourage of only a couple people behind him.

He completes the whole sequence faster than he gulps down his pre-workout, and the sudden sensation that floods my body is pretty damn exhilarating.

The mixture of relief and hope and pride and everything in between is overwhelming, and I feel like I just ran two marathons back-to-back.

The second I turn around, many people hold their fists up for me to bump and congratulate me on standing up for myself. Some women even call me a “queen” and ask to hug me.

While I wouldn’t call myself the latter, I’m caught up in the celebration and happy to have finally put Jason is his fucking place.

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