Page 19 of Filthy and the Beast

Since I'm working out again, Reggie insists I keep Damian near.

Not that I mind. Like I told Nat, I’d lose my mind without him. I appreciate him.

We’ve been eating together. Talking sometimes.

Went to make myself a coffee the other day and a magnet had appeared on the fridge for something called the “The Puget Gaymers,” holding a picture of Damian and a couple of his friends, smiley guys his age.

Made me feel weird. Not bad, though.

Good.

Just wish he wouldn’t keep calling my exercises stretchy time.

“Enzo!” he yells again.

“Meet me at the gym!” I bark at the door.

I make my slow but steady way to the back, leaving the dogs in the garden on the way, though they want to come play with Damian. He rolls around with them the way they like, how I can’t right now.

Can’t believe I’m letting someone else roll around with the girls.

Need to stay focused, though. Can’t fuck my back up again, and when I’m training, the dogs are a distraction for both of us humans.

Even imagining launching a proper comeback hurts. I’ve buried that life. Grieved.

But maybe I can find some way to fight. The hope of a few matches makes me feel alive again. Some strange part of my brain wakes up, too, thinking about Damian seeing me the way people used to. Before Vegas.

Needs to happen before my back takes me out for good. Before these heart pains turn into something serious.

I let Damian into the gym. He’s wearing short shorts. Really short. And his t-shirt is short, too, leaving the pink waistband of underwear visible against his flat belly.

Trail of hair.

Swallowing, I pull my eyes up. “Thanks for coming,” I manage.

He grins. “Are you kidding? I’m excited.” Waggling his eyebrows, he walks past me. “I get to place my palm on your lower back, remember?”

My cheeks get warm. I rub my hand across my face, prickly with my beard growing in again after I impulsively trimmed it for some reason. “Okay,” I say after a long pause.

Damian laughs warmly; I’m not sure why. “We’ll build up to that.” He glances around the boxing gym. “You really don’t fight anymore?”

He must have looked me up on the computer. I don’t keep the articles about my disgrace framed on the wall, but surely, Damian knows what happened.

“I don’t.” I'm too embarrassed by the truth to say more. I reach the mats, already laid out, and slowly get down to begin my stretches.

“It’s a shame. But I know you must really mean it. You’re turning down an opportunity to train me, after all. If you aren’t willing to mess around withmein the gym…”

He trails off. I’m on my back, pulling my knees up toward my chest.

Was that innuendo?

With a grunt, I straighten my legs out. “It’s not you.”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll wander the world totally defenseless then. A cute little bunny in the big scary woods.”

“Oh come on.” Groaning, I repeat the stretch. “There’s a boxing gym four blocks away.”

Damian laughs. “You’re right. That’s not fair. And I’m not defenseless, either. I suspect you’ll be glad to know that I carry pepper spray.”

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