Page 60 of Café Diablo

25

Ned

Ahundred sit-ups is not a lofty goal. It’s a distraction.

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

It’s a burn I feel in my stomach that aches into my spine and through my muscles. It’s a regimen with rules and deliverables. Easy. Simple. My body sweats from the intense workout I’ve had this morning—sweat dripping down my back, down my abs, down my arms. Just keep pushing further and harder, that’s my mantra.

And it works.

It lets me ignore the fact that I wasn’t myself last night. It keeps me from obsessing about how hot and exhilarating it was to take Oliva in the truck and make her yell like a heathen. It was barbaric, and it goes against my basic sense of decency—except, she loved it. And worse—Iloved it too. It was powerful, like when I’m in the courtroom going in for the kill. She submitted completely to me, and I don’t know why that turned me into a raging bull.

What I do know is that I need seventy more sit ups to make me sweat out this insanity.

Thirty-one. Thirty-two.

I push myself to bursting, focusing on the pain and the exertion.

Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine.

My mind turns white and all the guilt from yesterday fades away.

Eighty-four. Eighty-five.

Until all that’s left is pain. Punishing. Pain is easier than not meeting expectations. It’s easier than having to explain. Pain fills every crack and crevasse.

Ninety-nine. One-hundred.

I flop onto the mat and breathe hard, releasing all my body’s tension. The euphoria blitzes through my mind as I stare up at the ceiling of my private exercise room in my condo. My heart is on fire. The thunder of it pounds in my ears, obliterating all thought. There’s nothing but booming, and an overflow of breath and sensation. I rub my face, my whole body sore from pushing so hard, as if it might mask how far I pushed Olivia.

I was an animal.

Iaman animal.

God, even now, lying on this floor and feeling my body rage and thunder—I can feel it inside me. That desire for her.

It’s unhealthy.

I’ve never done anything half-assed in my life, but after last night, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve ever truly done anything full bore at all. It’s like a sheet has been pulled aside inside me and behind it stands another man. One I’m afraid to become, yet he calls out to me. A man with unlimited potential, who’s no longer hiding.

Only, that man—like last night, is ruled by chaos and lack of control and flying off the handle. I can’t give in to that base part of myself, particularly when I don’t truly understand or know how to control it.

Last night, I felt powerful, like I was winning, like I was a king. And power is an easy elixir to get drunk on.

But I need to go back to what is safe.

To what is simple and comfortable.

It doesn’t matter that Olivia said she trusted me. What matters is that things are hemmed in and kept respectable. That’s how I was raised. Be a wolf, yes, but be the smartest wolf in the room. Be the one who is so impeccable and in control of every detail that no one sees your wolf’s clothing.

Don’t let anyone see the beast.

26

Olivia

Ipull into the parking lot of the address Edwin sent me and park my moped. I text Edwin that I’m in the lot, and take in my surroundings.

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