“And he definitely doesn’t get to scare you away from someone who actually treats you right,” Daphne adds quietly.
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because somewhere deep down, a small, uncomfortable voice whispers that they might not be completely wrong.
Tess speaks again, gentle but simple. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now, Mads.”
“You guys are annoyingly wise,” I mutter, a tiny smile slipping out and that makes them laugh.
“And also,” Dawn adds, pointing dramatically at the screen, “donotlet that handsome boy walk away. That man isfine.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest anyway. “I just needed to talk to someone who knew the whole story,” I say.
“Well,” Daphne grins, “you called the right disaster hotline.”
“Love you, idiots,” I whisper.
“And if you need a distraction,” Tess adds, already excited, “let me tell you what happened at work today—”
We talk for another hour after that. The tightness in my chest easing a tiny bit.
41
RYAN
I just can’t keep my eyes off of you
We spend the last hour of training getting thrown onto the floor. Again and again. Full gear—heavy vest digging into my shoulders, gloves already damp, boots gripping and slipping against the mats as we run through takedown drills. Controlled force. Balance. Positioning.
“Again!” the instructor barks, pacing back and forth like he’s got all the energy in the world and we’ve got none left.
I grab my partner, shift my weight, hook, twist—he hits the mat with a hard thud. A second later I’m down too, the air knocked out of me as we reset.
“Too slow,” the instructor snaps. “You hesitate out there, you’re the one on the ground. Move.”
I’m drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling. I straighten up, dragging a hand over my face as I glance toward the front of the room. The instructor stands there like he hasn’t done anything at all—arms crossed, watching us with that sharp, assessing look.
I can’t wait for the day I get to stand there instead.
Not like this, though. I’ve been off all week. And I know exactly what’s messing with my head.
Every lunch, Maddy and I end up on opposite sides of the bench. Her on one side. Me on the other. Not planned. But it sure as hell feels like it.
The only upside? No one’s tried to set me up on some rebound date to “help me move on.” So small victories I guess.
Training finally ends, and I’m exhausted as hell. Noah and Kiara stayed behind for extra training, so it’s just me.
I drag a hand over my face as I head down the west hallway toward the exit. Hands buried deep in my jacket pocket. Headphones on. Music loud enough to drown everything else out.
Friendsby Chase Atlantic hums through my ears. And it pulls me straight back to our first kiss.
“Fuck no,” I mutter under my breath. We are not doing that stupid relatable music shit.
I pull my phone out to change the goddamn playlist, glance down for half a second—and round the corner too fast.
Thud.
“Oh—sorry—”
I look up. It’s her.