I’ve grown to love it there. The rhythm, the focus it demands. Emberline has become part of my routine in a way I never saw coming. It’s one of the only places that quiets my mind. No noise, no spiraling thoughts—just me, the bag, the next punch, the next step.
I never pictured myself as the kind of person who enjoys sweating through drills or pushing past exhaustion, but here I am. I’ve gotten stronger. Ifeelstronger. And after everything, that matters more than I can explain.
When Gage got fired, it rattled things for a bit. Sometimes I still wonder what happened to him. If he found a new gym, if he’s still running his mouth somewhere. But not enough to go looking.
Marcus has stepped in here and there, offering advice when he can. He’s got his hands full running the place, so most days, I’m on my own. Just me, figuring it out, getting better bit by bit.
And honestly, I like it that way. I like knowing this space is mine. Something I’ve built that grounds me. Not for anyone else’s approval, not for attention, just for me.
“You want me to track down Gage?”
I glance up, surprised. Despite his jealousy, his misplaced distaste, he’s offering to help anyway. That feels generous in a way I didn’t expect. But more than that, it feels like trust. Like he’s trying—really trying—to show me he believes in what we have.
“You’d do that? I thought you didn’t like him.”
He shrugs. “I don’t. But I know he was helping you.”
“That’s oddly sweet, but no.” I spin around, planting my hands on my hips. “And enough with the guessing games. My actual proposal is that you get a tattoo, and I want to pick it out for you.”
“Oh God, what are you thinking?” he asks dryly. “A butterfly on my lower back?”
“As hot as you’d look with a tramp stamp, I was actually thinking about something more basic. Like ... a quote.” I trace the skin of his forearm, just above his wrist. “How about, ‘I dwell in Possibility.’”
“Done,” he says. Not even a second of hesitation. “I’ll get the tattoo if you submit for the contest.”
“Wait ... seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Something flutters low in my chest—shock, maybe, but something warmer, too. I didn’t expect him to agree so fast, but God, I think I’m a little giddy about it.
A tattoo would mean something lasting. Something permanent. Something that ties him to me forever in this quiet, certain way.
“Deal,” I say, smiling against his mouth as he kisses me again.
* * *
The parking lotat Oakview is mostly empty, just a few scattered cars and a woman pacing by the entrance, her phone pressed tightly to her ear.
Warren parks at the far end, engine idling much longer than necessary. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. I can feel the tension rolling off him. It’s not sharp and restless like usual but heavier. Quieter.
They told him his dad was still irritated but starting to settle again. Apparently, it takes time for him to float back down to earth after a binge. The staff wasn’t sure how he’d gotten his hands on anything—alcohol, maybe something stronger—but once he left the facility, it was out of their control.
He must’ve slipped past them during quiet hours, ducked by the front desk when no one was watching closely enough. According to Warren, he’s always been good at finding his way through the cracks.
When they called to say his dad was back in their care, Warren didn’t ask for details. He didn’t press for answers. He just listened, then let the phone drop to the mattress beside him and stared at the ceiling like he was waiting for something else to drop.
He figured his dad had relapsed. But when the staff ran tests, they didn’t find anything in his system. No drugs, anyway. Just alcohol, exhaustion, and a string of impulsive choices that spiraled faster than anyone could catch.
“I can go in alone,” he says finally, voice low. “If you want to wait out here.”
I reach across the console to find his hand. “Nope, I’m coming in with you.”
He exhales, eyes still on the building. “I don’t know how this is gonna go.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still coming with you.”
He finally looks at me, and I don’t know what he sees, but something in his expression shifts. Strengthens a little. His fingers tighten a little more, his shoulders pull back.
