“Darling.” He always calls me that. I love it. “The house is already yours.”

  I let out an annoyed sound. I’m not poor. I have plenty of school debt, but I’ve been a practicing Physical Therapist for the past 8 years making decent money. I’m fairly sure I could still afford to buy this house. Except of course, Beth Smith doesn’t have a credit history. Or any other sort of history. And Beth Smith has to pay for a teenager now. Starting with buying a second car, so Noah can get himself home after practice.

  I drop onto the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll let Noah help me decide what to remodel first. But seriously, the house is perfect just how it is. We don’t need more than this.”

  I can picture Enzo’s bushy white eyebrows, and mane of silver hair, as his voice softens. “Once we figure all this out, you’ll be able to do whatever you want. You won’t have to stay here.”

  “If we figure all this out. And even then,” I look around, “I like it here. Plus, it’s not like we have anything to go back to.”

  “You know I’d love it if you two stayed.” Enzo clears his throat. “So, how was Noah this morning? First days are always tough.”

  “Good thing Noah is tough.”

  Enzo hums his agreement. “He’s got a lot of your dad in him.”

  “He really does, doesn’t he?” I smile. “When I dropped him off this morning, he was stoic, as expected. Me, I was crying before I even got out of the parking lot.”

  “Typical mom behavior.” Enzo chuckles.

  Mom behavior.

  I lean back against the couch cushion and breathe. Just breathe.

  “Yeah.” I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow. Twice. “He has his first practice with the hockey team today. It’s just weight training and running. Tomorrow they’ll be on the ice.”

  Enzo hears the anxiety in my voice. “Don’t you worry about him. Noah will kick ass. I’ve seen tapes of his games. Kid has nothing to worry about. I just wish I could come watch him play.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Uncle Enzo has been a godsend for Noah and me. We talk all the time, and he’s helped us more than I can even comprehend. But he has to stay away from us. If someone is watching him, he’d lead them right to us. So, for the foreseeable future, its phone calls only. “I can facetime you when he has a game.”

  “Ha!” Enzo barks out a laugh. “Your Aunt Tami has been trying to teach me that shit. I always end up looking like I have four chins.”

  I chuckle. “Same, Uncle Enzo. Same.”

  Enzo’s wife Tami is the same age as him but looks 20 years younger. Wealth, sunscreen, and not smoking has paid dividends.

  Uncle Enzo sighs. “I have to go, but give that kid a hug for me.”

  “Will do. Our best to Aunt Tami.”

  Hanging up the phone, I shut my eyes and contemplate taking a nap until I have to pick up Noah. Then a dog barks and I remember I left them trapped outside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BETH

  T he drive to school this morning has been relatively quiet. Just the backdrop of our crime podcast getting us ready for the day.

  Last night when I asked Noah how his first day went, he replied with I don’t know yet.

  I didn’t push him. I get it. It’s a lot to take in, and Noah likes to take his time processing things. I’ll ask him again tonight.

  “You can drop me off here,” Noah says.

  I look around. We haven’t even pulled into the parking lot yet.

  “Oh, okay.” I slow the car and pull over to the curb.

  He’s a teenager, I remind myself. He doesn’t want to get seen getting dropped off by… me.

  Noah fiddles with his backpack strap. “It’s just that we aren’t super early like yesterday. I don’t want you to get stuck in the parking lot traffic. You know high schoolers, they can’t drive.”

  There he goes, trying to spare my feelings. This kid.

  “Good thinking.” I add extra cheer into my tone. “Speaking of, I was thinking we could go car shopping this weekend.”

  His head whips around so fast to look at me, I swear I hear the air move. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I grin. “I don’t have any patients today, so I can drive you over to the rink after school and pick you up after. But once my work starts picking up, I won’t be able to.”

  Noah’s head is nodding. “Yeah, okay. We’re on the ice again Thursday and Friday. If you need me to, I can talk to the guys about catching rides. Some of them were alright yesterday.”

  Relief washes over me. Not at the fact that I won’t have to drive him, but the fact that he’s sharing a little bit with me. In teenaged boy speak, being alright means they’ll probably be best friends in no time.

  I play down my reaction with a shrug. “Plus, you’re gonna want a car for when you start going on dates.”

  That earns me an eyeroll. “Bye, Beth.” He pulls open the car door but pauses. “Good luck on your first day of work.” Then he’s gone. Melding into the flow of students.

  I cling to Noah’s words on my drive to my new office. We don’t have a terrible relationship. Not at all. It’s just new. And built on trauma. So that means I cling to every positive interaction we have.

  The light in front of me is red, so I use the brief stop to find some Lizzo. Cranking the volume up, I let the beat loosen up my tense muscles. I can’t start today depressed about the past. Today is about new beginnings.

  Spotting a coffee shop with a drive through on the next block, I alter my plans. Today is about new beginnings, and lattes.

  -

  Twenty minutes later, I’m parked in front of Atom’s Gym, fully caffeinated and ready to walk inside like a confident bitch.

  I’m a physical therapist, not a captain of industry, so my power suit is a pair of black contouring yoga pants, a grey lightweight sweater over a red sports bra, with the straps peeking out at my neckline, and my bright yellow running shoes that haven’t been on an actual run in months.

  Since I don’t have any appointments today, I left my hair down. I spent forever this morning making it look like it naturally falls into lovely waves. Which is probably false advertising, since from here on it’ll be pulled back into a ponytail or messy bun.

  I look at myself in the rearview mirror. “You earned this. You deserve this. They are lucky to have you.”

  I give myself a nod before I climb out of my car and head for the front door.

  Atom’s Gym is a free-standing building in an affluent suburb of Minneapolis, not too far from the city I now call home. According to my over-the-phone interview with the owner, Trevor, the clientele here ranges from off-season professional athletes to bored rich housewives, and everything in-between. I don’t think I’ll be meeting him today. Trevor made it sound like he’s never here, saying he hires adults, so he doesn’t have to spend his time “overseeing nonsense”.

  I’ve never even been inside a place like this before, but I’m looking forward to working here. I’m guessing it will have a lot more drama than the settings I’m used to, but it should be entertaining. Plus, it pays well.

  I’m not sure how Uncle Enzo was able to line this gig up for me, and honestly - I’d rather not know. But since I’m more than qualified, I refuse to feel guilty about the handout.

  With one last deep breath of fresh air, I walk through the first set of doors. I got this.

  I don’t got this. I instantly have an embarrassing attempt at opening the second set of doors. They’re locked. Feeling like a total tool, I wave to get the attention of the woman sitting behind the front desk. It doesn’t work. She doesn’t see me.

  I contemplate banging on the glass, but I can hear the music that’s jamming through the building’s audio system from here, so I doubt she’ll hear me knocking. I’m a moment from calling the main number for the gym when she looks up and spots me. When she does, she literally leaps to her feet. The tiny sprite of a woman, who looks like a Sporty Spice and Tinkerbell love child, practically runs to the door to let me in.

  “Oh my god, please tell me you’re Beth!” the girl says while, I swear to god, she claps her hands and bounces on her toes.

  I don’t remember the last time I had this warm of a welcome.

  I grin and nod. “I’m Beth.”

  She lets out a squeak of joy and then throws her arms around me in a hug. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

  I’m all of five foot six, but I feel like a giant with her tiny frame pressed against mine. I’d be surprised if she broke five feet with her neon pink tennis shoes on.

  “You don’t say.” I chuckle.

  The girl steps back. “Oh geez, I’m sorry! I totally just accosted you!” She gives a self-deprecating eye roll. “I’m Sissy. I’m the front desk girl, in-house DJ, consumer of gossip, and technically the assistant manager," she ticks off the points on her fingers. “Trevor told me all about you. He’s down in Arizona visiting his mom, so who knows when he’ll be back around, but we don’t need him.”

  I can’t help it. I’m beaming. This chick is like bottled sunshine. “It’s really great to meet you.”

  “Well, come on. I’ll walk you through the place, then you can unload your bag in your office.” Sissy hooks her arm in mine and starts to pull me past the desk.

  I don’t fight it. And I don’t try to chime in. I just go with it.

  Just past the front desk is a small hallway that abruptly opens into a huge gym. The ceilings are two stories high. There are tons of windows, but they’re all tinted, allowing natural light in but taking away that awkward fishbowl feeling. The main floor is broken up into sections. There are leg machines, arm machines, free weights, barbells, and dynamic weights like kettlebells and those weird sandbags. There’s a space with big punching bags, and smaller speed bags. The front wall is lined with treadmills and ellipticals, and the back wall has those big heavy ropes lined up in stations.

  It's entirely impressive.

  “The yoga and barre studios are up there,” Sissy points up behind my head.

  Turning around I look up. Somewhere behind the front desk must be a set of stairs leading to the second floor. I can see three classrooms. From this angle it’s hard to tell, but I assume they have wood floors and lots of mirrors. Nothing says Zen like Warrior Pose while looking over a crowd of sweating jocks.

  Arm still in mine, Sissy leads me along the wall below the yoga studios.

  We pass a women's locker room and a men’s locker room before coming up to a short hallway. It’s less a hallway, and more of an indent that has one door on the right and one on the left.

  “Chiropractor and Acupuncturist.” Sissy points to one door then the other. “And down here…” She trails off until we walk another 30 feet to the next mini hallway. “Masseuse.” She points to the room on the right, before going all Vana White on the final door. “And Physical Therapist!”

  When Sissy opens the door, I literally gasp. The room has to be twenty feet by twenty feet, at least. There’s an exam table. A corner desk with a sleek desktop computer and a comfortable looking chair. A built-in bookshelf. A bench for stretching. A large stability ball. And a small closet that Sissy opens to reveal cleaning supplies and a freaking mini fridge.

  “Holy shit.” I murmur.

  Sissy looks at me with hopeful eyes. “You like it?”

  “Umm, yeah. This place is nuts.” I shake my head in disbelief.

  She grins. “Oh good! I was hoping you’d like it. I know you’re way down here on the end, but it really is the best place. When you shut the door." she demonstrates by shutting the door, “it gets pretty quiet. I know the music out there is loud, but we’ve added extra sound proofing in these rooms so you can have conversations with your patients without having to yell.”

  “Wow. That’s impressive.” I say, shocked at how quiet the room is.

  Sissy nods. “And if there’s anything else you need, let me know. I think Trevor emailed you your schedule already. Josh was the previous PT, so you’ll be taking over his usual appointments. But you can move things around however you want. And as of this morning, your calendar is up on our website so the members can log in to their portals and sign up for your openings. But go ahead and take some time to get settled, then come get me and I’ll walk you through the system.”

  “Thank you, Sissy.”

  My face must show more emotion than I intended because she hugs me again.

  “Oh stop! I’m just excited to have a cool girl to work with.” Sissy says with a squeeze.

  I shake my head as she lets go. “How do you know I’m cool? I could be a total bitch.”

  Sissy throws her head back, letting out a tinkling laugh. “Beth, I know a bitch when I see one. Trust me.”

  Then, in a swirl of pixie dust, she’s gone.

  Looking around my new office, I feel - for the first time in months - hope.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BETH

  A n hour and a half later, I admit that I can’t putter around in here any longer. Had I known how large my office would be, I would’ve brought more stuff with me. I knew this was a high-end gym, but I'd figured my office would be more of a glorified closet. As of now, the space just looks bare; half moved-in, and a little sad. Tomorrow I’ll bring my box of PT books and anatomically correct joint and muscle models. Maybe even some framed pictures for my desk.

  Opening the door, my ears are assaulted with some classic Eminem. I almost laugh out loud. Sissy referred to herself as the gym DJ, and this is not the sort of music I’d expect her to choose.

  On my tour with Sissy, we’d stuck to the outer edge of the gym, so I decide to take the long way and stroll through the floor. There’s a little walkway outlined between each section, so I follow it. Winding my way back towards the front.

  This time I focus on taking in the details. Most of my work with patients will be done in my room, but it’ll be good to know what I have at my disposal. The equipment all looks heavy duty, and top of the line. Everything has that well-used appearance, but is clearly taken care of. There are stations with sanitizing wipes all over the place and there’s an oddly satisfying scent of sweat and lemons. With walls in shades of grey, the whole gym has an industrial vibe. I like it.

  I know Trevor mentioned that there were quite a few "rich housewives" that worked out here, but they must stick to the yoga studios because all the people I can see look like serious gym rats. It’s not busy, but the ones that are here are working hard.

  Weaving my way around a large machine, my eyes land on a set of legs. Giant freaking legs, bent at the knee, suspended in the air. I stumble to a stop. The legs move up, and my eyes rise with the motion. But as my gaze goes up, my jaw goes down. Holy fucking pull-ups. Who is this monster?

  Thighs the size of watermelons connect to an ass that is testing the physics of his workout shorts. The profile view I have doesn’t show how wide his shoulders are, but the man’s chest is as deep as I am wide. His shirt is desperately clinging to every impressive inch. And those biceps, they’re as big as my thighs. Only without the jiggle.

  What in god’s name does he eat? Smaller men? Full sized cows? The man is ginormous. His size bordering between sexy-as-fuck and run-the-other-way terrifying. But he’s not a bodybuilder, with the deeply defined muscles and creepy veins, he’s just built like a damn ogre. Thick and hard and oh my god now I’m wondering about the hidden parts of him.

  As he lifts and lowers himself, flashes of his face appear behind his enormous arms. He’s Greek, or Italian, or some other breed of descendants of the Gods. His hair isn’t as deep-black as mine, but it’s a dark, chocolatey brown. And sweaty. And just long enough for the damn ends to curl around the tops of his ears. Those little curls would be cute, if it weren’t for the beast of a man that they’re attached to.

  Another pull-up lets me admire the shadow on his jaw. It looks thick and deliberate. It’s probably more of a beard than a shadow. And unlike my bright white paleness, his skin has a glowing amber tint. Sweet protein pancakes. This motherfucker is all kinds of hot, and it’s just not fair.

  The man straightens his legs and his hands let go of the bar they’re gripping, dropping him to his feet. That’s when I notice the thick chain around his waist, that’s connected to a heavy weight. Holy Cheetos, how strong is this guy?

  An involuntary sound of surprise leaves my lips.

  I slap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The man’s head turns. I thought nothing else about him could shock me at this point, but I was wrong. The bright blue eyes that meet mine are so unexpected that I don’t even react. I just stare. And he stares right back.

  I’ve been caught ogling him, and I feel like the biggest creeper in the world. Do I say hi? Wave? Give him a head nod and a slap on the ass? At this point, is there even a way to introduce myself without seeming like I’m hitting on him? For all I know, he’ll be one of my patients. Gah.

  I lower my hand, readying myself to say hello, when his eyes leave mine.

  My body freezes as I watch him give me the slowest once-over in the history of douchery once-overs. As his gaze travels back up my body, his blank stare has turned into a deep scowl.

  My cheeks flare at the feeling of his disapproval, and I look away before we make eye contact again.

  Berating myself for being a chicken, I step off the path and cut between a row of dumbbells.

  “Don’t be an idiot.” I whisper to myself. “You have bigger fucking problems than some asshole’s inflated ego.”

  But my chastising doesn’t help. Suddenly I feel self-conscious of my curve-hugging leggings. My snug sweater. I tug at the hem of my shirt. My prominent hourglass figure feels so out of place amongst these no-body-fat specimens. I might not look like it, but I’m fit. I work out. I jog. Occasionally. I just have some extra padding on my ass. So what?

  Battling back the feelings of insecurity, I remind myself who I am. I’m a strong, smart woman. I’m a trained professional. I may be soft in places, but I’m hard where it matters. And I can do this.