On Saturday morning, I did my groceries. I only had a few items on my list since I'd stocked up the last weekend. But going through the farmer market's stalls was a routine I cherished.

I did come across a homemade dog toy that reminded me of Brownie. As soon as the thought registered in my head, I put the toy down and walked away.

Nonna Gabriella asked about the "handsome boy" who'd been with me last Saturday. I told her that he wasn't my boyfriend. She waved her hand off and told me it was only a matter of time.

Not in this lifetime.

That "handsome boy" had sent me a picture of his pets every single day. I would've regretted giving him my number, except the pictures were too adorable. He'd sent me the address of the gym the night before, followed by an electronic pass.

When I pulled into the underground parking lot of the building that afternoon, my stomach was bursting with butterflies. I slapped my hand on it. "Quit it."

Great. Now I was talking to my stomach.

I picked up my bag from the trunk, locked my car and made my way to the elevator.

The elevator doors closed behind me, their metallic surface reflective. I looked bright-eyed. My hair was in a short ponytail, and I was dressed in a coral sweatshirt and white boxing shorts. I really hoped the gym would be good. Even my aversion to being in Hunter's vicinity couldn't trump my need to find a good boxing gym.

The elevator door opened on the first floor. I got out and glanced around. Nice. It was a hallway with orange walls. On them, painted murals of famous boxers and MMA fighters; Mohammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky Marciano, Khabib Nurmagomedov and others.

I pushed through the glass doors at the end of the hallway. A desk spanned the length of the glass wall across, behind which sat a guy and a girl. A set of four turnstiles blocked access to the gym beyond the glass wall.

I pulled up the pass on my phone and was about to scan it when the girl behind the desk spoke.

"Hey!" She leaned over the desk with a smile. She looked younger than I first thought. She must be in college. "First time here?"

"Yes."

Her big gray eyes glanced at my phone. "You have a pass."

I waved my phone. "Yep."

"We don't really give out guest passes that often," the guy next to her said, narrowing his gray eyes. He looked a year or so younger, and he looked like a younger, male version of the girl. Siblings. "Whose guest are you?"

"Hunter. Jamison."

The guy blinked, and the girl gasped. "Jamison? As in Jamison Jamison?"

"Hunter Jamison," I said. "Big guy. Black hair. Dark eyes. Undefeated champion."

The girl's eyes widened even more. Then she smiled brightly and snapped her fingers. "So that's why he wanted the guest pass!"

A woman walked out of the elevator right then. She took us all in and frowned at the siblings behind the desk. Her dark skin gleamed under the bright lights, and her gray eyes snapped at the two people behind the desk.

"What did I tell you about keeping your nose out of everyone else's business. Stop gossiping for goodness sake!"

"But-but mom!" The girl said, pointing at me with wide eyes. "Jamison!"

The older woman shook her head and gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. You can just ignore these two from now on. Please go ahead."

The siblings looked properly chastised. I stifled a smile and scanned the pass. The light turned green and I pushed past the bar.

"I leave you two alone for five minutes. Five minutes! Do I need to..."

Her voice drifted off as I pushed open another set of glass doors. Immediately, my senses were assaulted by the familiar scent of leather, an overpowering scent of lemon and peppermint, and a hint of sweat beneath everything that the cleaning products and diffusers just couldn't get rid of.

Three boxing rings were on one side of the gym, currently empty. The walls were black with abstract shapes in orange and white. A line of punching bags were set up along the walls.

There was another space through a big door beyond the boxing rings, set up with gym equipment.

On the other side of the space was a cage. Currently occupied by two grappling fighters on the ground. It looked like every single gym goer was watching the fight.

I approached the cage as well, finding a gap between the speculating crowd. Inside the cage, one of the fighters was holding the other in a chokehold.

My breath caught in my throat. Sweaty, dressed only in shorts, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow, Hunter's face was set in harsh lines as he tried to choke his opponent to tapping out.

The guy in his hold was turning red in the face. He slammed his hand against Hunter's forearm in quick succession, giving up. Hunter let go and rolled away from him. The poor guy was breathing like he'd been under water. A few whistles sounded, and the crowd grew louder, discussing the fight.

The people around were from all ages, men and women, and I liked that. so far, the atmosphere was better than anything I'd experienced in the previous gyms. A good sign.

Hunter climbed to his feet and pulled his opponent up. He ran his wrapped hand through his hair, and the butterflies in my stomach went wild. Damn it.

Already, a couple of people were getting into the cage, grabbing his attention. A few people scattered back to their workouts, others lingered nearby. Adoring fans if the way they looked at him was anything to go by.

I waited for Hunter to be done. More people, mostly girls, joined his group, flocking around the star. I sighed. Maybe I should just find the locker room and start my workout. I was itching to punch something.

Before I could wander off, Hunter looked away from the man talking to him and scanned the gym. His eyes found me and his entire body seemed to lock up. Then he smiled. A small smile that made me feel like I was seventeen all over again. I gave him a wave, playing it cool, as if my insides weren't about to explode into a fluttering mess.

He said something, not taking his eyes off of me, and abandoned his entourage. He jumped out of the cage and strode toward me. I met him halfway.

"Nice place," I said, waving my hand around.

"Told you," he said, a smile still playing on his lips. "You came."

"I told you I would."

He opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted.

"Hunter, I need you right now."

I glanced at the woman marching towards us. She was dressed in skinny white jeans, a blue shirt and a tan blazer. Her nude heels broke to a stop almost between us and she looked at Hunter, holding her phone in one hand. I could only see the back of her black hair. Well, then.

"I need you to take a look-"

"Not now, Ava," Hunter said, his smile slipping.

She glanced at me with a tight smile. "I'm sure your fan can understand. Right?"

My brows raised. Hunter's tone lowered. "Ava. Not. Now."

The woman must've known that tone. She took a step aside and looked at me properly. A small frown tugged down her eyebrows, as if she was debating where she'd seen me before. Long black lashes fluttered around her hazel eyes, before she gave her attention back to Hunter. "Okay. But we need to talk. The thing with Scott Milton is getting out of hand."

The woman, Ava, gave me another look and strutted away.

"Sorry."

"Your PR agent?" I guessed. Ava had now stopped and was talking to one of the older men. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Yes."

"Is the thing with Scott giving you trouble?" I asked. "I could talk to him if you want."

"It's mostly speculations. Scott has nothing to do with it. It'll die down."

He plucked my gym bag from my hand. "Come on. I'll show you the locker rooms."

We walked across the space towards the doors behind the boxing rings, leading to the other space.

"Hey, Jamison."

"What's up, Jamison."

"Jamison."

Several people greeted him, throwing me looks right after. Hunter just responded with polite nods.

"Do you know everyone?" I asked when we walked through the door to the next room. It was occupied by all kinds of gym equipments, from treadmills to stair masters to weight lifting stations.

"They know me," Hunter mumbled. "I don't think it's the same. I've only been coming here for a few months."

I nodded. We reached a hallway with several facilities. Hunter dropped me off into the women's locker room. I got in, slipped off my sweater and pulled on a white tank top over my sports bra. The locker rooms were clean. Crispy white walls and glossy wooden lockers. Bright lights. Private changing rooms with mirrors and hairdryers. The sound of a shower deeper beyond the lockers.

I tightened my ponytail, grabbed my boxing gloves and my hand wraps, and hit the door.

Hunter was still waiting. I'd assumed he'd go back to training. The only change was his gloves. He'd ditched the half-finger gloves of the MMA fights. Black boxing gloves were tied over his shoulders.

He took my pink boxing gloves.

"Thanks," I said, and began wrapping my hands.

"How long since you've seen Steve?" he asked as we made our way back.

"A year or so. He's no longer in the gym," I said, smiling at the thought of the old man. He was still going strong. But after his doctor warned him about stressing his heart out too much, Emma had guilt tripped him into quitting and moving with her and Brandon down south.

"Stefan and Lia got married," Hunter said.

"How did you know?" I asked. We came to a stop by the treadmills. Hunter's eyes flitted away.

"I've met Stefan a few months ago. By accident."

I frowned. My brother hadn't said anything. He must not have told Lia, because that girl would've told me as soon as it happened.

"I'll wrap your right hand," Hunter said.

I moved my hand away. "I can do my right hand. I've been doing this before you."

He cracked a smile. "You're the one who taught me how to do it."

I chuckled. "I should brag about it. I was the one who taught the champion how to wrap his hands."

"You should," he said. "You're the reason I'm where I am."

My hand stopped and I looked up. His face was completely serious. I sighed and finished wrapping my hand. Bringing up the past pinched my heart.

Hunter and I had more good memories in our history than bad. But the one bad memory, the last one, seemed to overshadow all the good things.

Life was funny that way. It didn't matter if you had a lifetime of joy if the ending was tragic.

I jumped on one of the treadmills. "I'll warm up. Thanks for showing me around. Just drop my gloves nearby."

He put them next to his on the floor and jumped on the next treadmill. I guess he was taking a walk as well.

We began with a light walk. Hunter suddenly chuckled. "Steve would be hounding our asses about cardio if he saw us right now."

I grinned. "I know."

After several minutes, I raised my pace into a jog. Hunter did as well. I glanced at him. His breathing was steady. Another increase. I was running now. Hunter was as well.

He increased his pace every time I did, and after a few minutes, we were both sprinting on the treadmills. Exhilaration ran through my veins, heating my blood. A grin bloomed on my face. It had been so long since I'd had such a good workout.

I glanced his way. He was still going strong, his long legs moving like pedals.

"Damn it, Hunter. Stop!" I gasped while laughing.

"You first."

At least he sounded out of breath. I would take that as a small win.

People walked past us, throwing us curious looks. I slowly lowered the speed, my chest heaving and sweat trickling down my back. Jumping down the treadmill, I dropped on my butt and leaned back against my elbows. I should probably move around a bit, but I couldn't care less.

Hunter left the treadmill as well. He stood in front of me, hands on knees and a smile on his face.

"Your breathing sucks," he said. I laughed. For once, the memory his words raised wasn't tainted by the sadness. It must be the thrill of the exercise.

I took off my hair tie and redid my ponytail. Hunter's eyes followed my hands. "You cut your hair."

I shrugged. "You grew your hair out."

His smile widened and he straightened and held out a hand. His hand was warm and big around mine, and he tugged me up like I weighed nothing. My heart skipped a beat. He could always make me feel like the most feminine, delicate person even when I was a sticky, sweaty mess.

For a moment, I wished our hands weren't wrapped so I could feel his skin. I snapped that door shut before it could fully open. He didn't let go when I was on my feet, so I pulled my hand away and stepped back.

I sighed and strapped on my gloves. "Thanks. I needed that run. You really can go back to your workout."

He didn't. He grabbed his gloves and walked next to me to the next room. Bumping my fists together, I looked around. Two of the boxing rings were occupied. Most of the punching bags as well.

The day behind the glass was fading into night. With the bright lights of the gym, I hadn't even noticed.

"You want me to hold the mitts for you?"

I raised my brows. "You really have nothing else to do? No one to beat up? No match to train for?"

"My schedule is free," he said. "For the foreseeable future."

I raised my brow. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "I have something else to do first."

The intensity of his gaze was focused on me. I blew out a breath. "Well, grab those mitts then."

He went to a shelf in the corner of the gym. Next to it stood Ava, his PR agent, and the older man she'd been speaking with.

"You're holding mitts, Hunter?" the older man asked. I squinted at him. I'd seen that guy before. But where? Maybe on TV or something?

A grunt was Hunter's reply. I smiled to myself. Some things never changed.

Ava glanced at me and whispered something to Hunter. He picked up the mitts and said, "later." before walking back to me.

His muscles flowed as he slipped on the mitts. I looked away. He really should put on a t-shirt or something.

The majority of people were discreetly watching him, most of them surprised.

"Don't you hold mitts for anyone? Everyone is looking at you like you're performing a miracle. Don't you hold mitts for anyone?"

He winked. "You're not anyone."

I sighed and raised my fists. "Still smooth, I see."

"Only for you, sweetheart. Come on."

I was not going to fall for Hunter Jamison again. I was not going to fall for Hunter Jamison again.

Now if I just repeated it enough times, maybe I would believe it.

I ignored my drunk heart and focused on the mitts. It felt so good to work with someone like this. I usually only used punching bags in the gym before. But this was better. Exhilarating. I strained against my limits, pushing myself in a way I hadn't done in so long. And it felt so damn good, especially since Hunter knew what he was doing.

It also felt nice to just be with someone. I had kept the world at bay for so long that I no longer remembered how good being in other people's company felt. Not just anyone, though.

My muscles turned into jelly and I couldn't go on anymore. Hunter lowered the mitts, a smile on his face. I was proud to see him breathing heavily as well. Putting my fists on my hips, I focused on my breathing. Hunter slipped off the mitts, opened my water bottle and handed it to me. I held the water bottle between my boxing gloves and poured it in my mouth. It dripped down my chin, and I didn't care.

Hunter wiped his forearm over his forehead.

"That felt so damn good," I said, still breathing heavily.

Hunter smiled. "You still got it."

I scoffed and unstrapped my gloves. "Give me those mitts. Let's see if you still got it."

We switched roles. Hunter's fists felt like sledgehammers even through the mitts. But after a few punches, I called him on his bullshit.

"You're holding back, Hunter Jamison," I said, throwing a right hook with the mitts. He dodged like he saw it coming from a mile away.

"If you don't take this seriously, I'm going to kick your ass," I told him.

He grunted, but after a few seconds, his pace and the power behind his hit changed. Damn. I almost regretted asking him to take it seriously. Almost.

I also almost ended up on my butt once. Fortunately, I got control over my body in time and managed not to embarrass myself during my first gym visit.

I called it quits before Hunter did. I slipped off the mitts and dropped to sit against the wall. I was spent. My arms were shaking.

Hunter dropped down next to me, his legs and arms brushing against mine. I gave him a look. He just smiled. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Sneaky asshole," I mumbled. He chuckled and took a swig of his water.

We watched the gym getting less packed as the night grew darker. It was a Saturday night. Most people would be heading out to party.

"Don't you have a party to go to or something?" I asked Hunter. The heat of his side against mine was pleasant.

"No. We had a date, remember?"

I sighed. "It's not a date."

He hummed. My guts twisted up in knots at the reminder that we would be having the talk after this.

I wanted to give him the chance to explain. I wanted to give myself the chance to let go of what happened ten years ago.

But I was afraid.

What if what he said wasn't good enough? I knew I would never be able to see him again, even as friends, if that was the case.

Hunter rolled to his feet and pulled me up. With quiet agreement, we went to the locker rooms. I checked the showers first. If they weren't up to my standards, I wasn't going to step foot in there. A cleaning lady had just walked out of the showers with her supplies. A sign on the wall by the door said the showers were cleaned every hour. A good sign.

When I saw the showers, I realized this was a rather upscale gym. The showers had individual stalls with body jets. The tiles were a gleaming white and deep gold, echoing the theme of orange in the gym. Good quality shampoo, conditioner and shower gel sat inside a small indent in the wall. I wondered how much the membership of this gym cost.

I took a long shower, taking advantage of the body jets. After drying my hair and getting dressed, I felt at once better and tired. I just wanted to gobble up a salad bowl and drop dead on my bed. Maybe I should tell Hunter we'd talk later.

No. I just had to get this over with. Stressing over it any longer wasn't good for my health.

Hunter waited for me in the hallway again. Wordlessly, he tugged off the strap of my bag and slung it on his shoulder next to his. Five minutes later, we were in the underground parking lot.

Hunter nodded to the back of the parking lot. "Why don't we drive my car?

"I'm going to drive anyway-"

"I know. Come on. We can drive back here to get your car later if you want," he said, already heading to his car with my bag. Oh well. I wanted to try a drive in his car anyway.

We weaved through the vehicles. Hunter's black SUV came into view, and next to it stood a now familiar head of long black hair. Seeing Ava made me unreasonably irritated. It must be the hunger.

Ava straightened up. Her brows tugged down when she saw me. Next to me, Hunter heaved a big sigh and stopped. "If this is about Milton, we'll talk later."

Ava's red lips pursed. "This is later."

"No, it's not. We'll talk later," Hunter said, digging inside his bag. He came up with his car keys and handed them to me. I grabbed the keys and headed to the driver's side.

Ava opened her mouth and closed it. "You never let anyone drive your cars." she said in a loud whisper as I opened the door and got in.

"I don't let just anyone drive my car," Hunter said, opened the passenger door. "We'll talk later."

Hunter put our bags in the backseat and strapped on his seat belt, and I started the car. Ava whipped around and stalked towards a small white car, got in and drove off in a fury of squealing tires.

"Maybe it's an emergency," I said.

"There's no emergency. I have more important things on my mind right now. The thing with your brother will get buried in the news once a Hollywood celebrity decides to do something stupid."

"Whatever you say," I mumbled. "So where are we going?"

He shifted in his seat. I narrowed my eyes. He knew I wasn't going to like his answer. After a few seconds, I prodded. "Well?"

He sighed. "Home."

I glanced at him sharply. "Home as in... your house?"

He grunted. I shook my head. I wasn't going home with him.

"No," I said.

"You're hungry. We can eat and talk there," he said. Nice try. I was hungry, and it was making me cross.

I threw my hands up. "You know what. You said you'll talk. So talk."

Hunter sighed. "Here. Really?"

"Yes. Really."

He was quiet for a long time. He fiddled with something under the sleeve of his sweatshirt. I turned off the engine and waited.

Going to his house shouldn't be a big deal. I knew Hunter would never lay a finger on me if I didn't want him to, except for those annoying, seemingly accidental, brushes of his hands when he handed me something.

But going to his place was a step above what I was willing to offer, him or anyone, at the moment. The only place I visited was Scott's and Jason's. And that was mostly because I knew they would hunt me down if I tried to push them out of my life again.

I had no other friends, and I didn't want them. Going to someone's personal space, going to Hunter's personal space, would not keep the distance I desperately needed between us.

When Hunter spoke, it was the last thing I expected him to say.

"The fire in the shelter ten years ago was my father's doing."

--- ---- ---

Thoughts? 

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Much love <3 <3 <3

M.B.