Ella

Settling into my new home is easier than I thought it would be. Now that a month has passed, my schedule feels normal again. Switching grocery stores and other locations needed for daily needs has been beneficial to my mental health, too. Moving has decreased the possibility of running into Janae or Ryland. While the wounds are healing, there's still a persistent ache that continues to infect my heart.

Ryland and I spent years together sharing a bed, having sex, exchanging kisses. Welcoming loneliness as a companion is difficult after so many years. There's no one to exchange smiles with in the morning. No warm body to snuggle against in the coldest hours of the night. And every morning, I have to make my own shitty cup of coffee.

Suppressing a sigh, I push my coffee aside. Ryland used to make excellent coffee. He'd perfected the ratio of steamed milk to coffee, with a hint of vanilla sweetener.

Now, my coffee is bitter or too sweet.

After I've rinsed the mug out, leaving it to dry I the sink, I swipe my keys from the countertop and collect my gym bag. Today's training sessions begin early this morning. I have to arrive an hour prior for set up and a quick run-through of my routine. Which is why the sky is still dark when I exit the basement suite, locking the door behind me.

As I walk up the stairs to the driveway, I note the light drizzle and the low-hanging clouds. Typical Vancouver weather: foggy, rainy, and chilly.

I tighten my loose cardigan around my body, exhaling deeply. None of the lights are on in Melody and Kaleb's house, which makes me think they're still asleep or they've gone out for an early breakfast. The latter doesn't seem applicable since Kaleb arrived home late last night from a game in Toronto. The only reason I know this is because Melody invited me over for dinner last night.

While Kaleb is a common factor between us, I'm glad we're close friends. Seeing Melody and Kaleb happy makes my heart warm. Both of them are good people who deserve the best. I hope I can have a relationship like theirs one day.

The drive to work takes an extra twenty minutes, which I don't mind. It gives me time to blast the music and enjoy a proper coffee from Starbucks.

When I arrive at Absolution Fitness, I'm greeted by Ray, the owner. He's a sweet man in his mid-forties who never delays paycheques ad is always monitoring how the personal trainers are treated. Especially the women. There are strict policies in place about degrading or inappropriate behaviour. Any reports Ray receives result in termination of a customer's contract and confiscation of their membership.

To summarize, I feel safe at work. My experience has been positive, which I believe will continue. It's sad how the threat of losing something, such as a gym membership, is needed to convince people women must be treated equally. But I appreciate the measures in place. Without them, I have a feeling I would've quit my job as a personal trainer long ago.

After scanning my pass, I push through the back door and enter the tight hallway. It's lined with staff lockers. They stretch from floor to ceiling and are painted a gaudy reddish-orange.

I pass by the lockers, heading further down the hallway towards the stairs. The private training areas are upstairs and overlook the rest of the gym. Stopping at Starbucks has caused me to run a little behind schedule, but that's okay. The outline of this morning's workout is fresh in my mind.

However, just as I'm about to ascend the steps, I hear Ray curse. He's in the office, trying to work with the faulty printer. I keep telling him to invest in a new one, but he refuses. Connecting his laptop to the printer was already hard enough. He doesn't want to have a repeat.

I leave my bag on the bottom step before sauntering over to the office. The door is open, and a loud bang echoes through the room.

"Goddamn printer!" Ray grumbles. "Never should've bought a new laptop."

Leaning against the doorway, I chuckle. "What did that poor printer ever do to you, Ray?"

He turns around, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "Be an uncooperative fuck."

A smile blossoms across my lips as I take a sip of coffee. "Good morning, Ray."

The hard lines of his frown soften into a gentle expression. "Morning, Ella. You're here early for a Thursday. Aren't they your slow days?"

I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment. While Absolution Fitness does well for its downtown location, we're a gym that is allocated to affordability. Meaning, people and households with lesser income can afford to come here.

It's an initiative that I admire, but based on social hierarchy, few rich folks come here. They want the gyms with cancer-inducing tanning beds, an overload of supplements, and fancy equipment.

Telling Ray that Mikael Keravinen will attend several training sessions with me over the next couple of months feels strange on my tongue. But once Mikael learned about my career, he was interested in adopting a new outlook on physical fitness to see if it can better improve his stamina for hockey.

"Mikael Keravinen wanted his session to be early, to avoid the attention of fans."

Ray raises his eyebrows and loosens a low whistle while running a hand through his peppered hair. "Damn. How'd you convince him to come here?"

I take another sip of my coffee. "Graduating high school with Shea Smith and Kaleb Jones has its perks," I reply. "They invited me to a party, which is where I met Mikael. He seems sweet. But I'm being cautious."

"Was this after you left that asshole ex?" Ray asks. Hard lines appear on his face again, as they do whenever he frowns. Sometimes, he reminds me a lot of my dad.

The mention of Ryland makes the loneliness rise to the surface. I'll never let Ryland back into my life. Forgiveness isn't always the answer. Sometimes, you don't need to forgive someone in order to move on. But that doesn't mean I'm prohibited from missing certain aspects of our relationship. There was good within the bad—even if he was faking the entire time.

Tracing the lid of my coffee cup, I nod.

"Good," Ray nods. He crosses his tattooed arms. They bulge beneath his tight-fitted T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest. "You deserve someone better, Ella. Don't forget that. I hope Mikael treats you well. If he doesn't... you know where support is."

I smile. Of course I do. When I told Ray about Ryland, he was open to channeling skills from his previous boxing career to teach Ryland a lesson.

"We're not dating, Ray. He's just been... a good friend."

And that's the truth. Since the party, Mikael and I have been texting each other. Sometimes, we'll meet up for a drink at a local pub. I've even attended a couple of games. Mostly to spend time with Brenna and Melody, but also to support Mikael and the team.

Ray shakes his head. "You're right. I apologize for assuming, Ella. I hope he treats you right, no matter the relationship status."

He pushes away from the desk and saunters to the door. There, he stops beside me and rests a hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Don't forget the way you deserve to be treated."

My smile is soft. "You don't need to apologize for my father's behaviour."

"Ella," he sighs. "My brother will never apologize for alienating his daughter because she chose a path she wanted. I know you know you deserve more, but I'm here to remind you whenever things seem bleak. Whenever I try to talk to him, he shuts me down. Your mother is no better. But I'm glad you have friends you consider family."

"Thanks, Uncle Ray," I smile.

He makes a zipper motion across his lips. "As far as we know, I'm your boss. We don't want the other employees knowing we're related. They may think I'm paying you more."

While Uncle Ray has aided me in moments of dire need, he doesn't treat me differently than any of his employees. I squeeze his forearm. "I know. I'll see you after the session."

He smiles, and then exits the room, leaving me staring ahead at the printer. The red light is blinking, signalling either a jam or lack of connection.

"What about the printer?" I call over my shoulder.

"Fuck the printer," he calls back, his voice gruff. "I'll do the paperwork at home."

I laugh, and then check the time on my Apple watch. It's almost seven. Mikael will be here soon, so I need to get my butt in gear.

Finishing my coffee, I toss the cup into the trash and head upstairs to set up. Which doesn't take long. As a personal trainer, I focus on using your body weight to your advantage. There is some equipment I plan on using, but most Mikael's routine will be based on body weight.

Mikael arrives ten minutes late. He's breathless when he makes it to the top of the stairs. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his chest rises and falls. "Sorry I'm late."

Looking up from my clipboard, I frown. "Did you run here?"

"Uh-huh," he nods. He leans over at the hips, resting his large hands on his muscular thighs.

He's dressed in compression shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. His runners are full of scuff marks, and a bag hangs over his shoulder. There's a shadow of facial hair across his set jaw and his hair sticks to his forehead.

Several seconds pass before he's standing straight again. There must be a look of confusion present on my face because he delves deeper into an explanation.

"Had to get in the cardio. I prefer strength training, but, yeah, need the cardio."

"Right," I nod. "Think you're ready for the strength training?"

He smiles at my teasing tone and then removes a clean pair of shoes from his bag. "Not sure, Ella. Running here may have been too much."

I snort. "Well, if you're sore already, be prepared for hell tomorrow morning."

Mikael's cocky expression makes me feel strange. I have a weakness for men who use cockiness to joke around, which is what he's doing. He's charming and attractive, but I don't know if my heart is ready yet. Not matter how my body reacts. Or how charming he is.

"Is that a challenge?"

I toss a clean towel at him. "Clean yourself up. Then we'll start."

Using the towel, he wipes the lingering sweat away. With flushed cheeks, he smiles and says, "Do your worst, Ella."

*  *  *

Two hours later, I'm standing over a sweaty Mikael. He's lying on the floor mat with his eyes closed. Sweat slides down his temples and his cheeks are red. His grey T-shirt is drenched with sweat.

"Fuck," he groans, stretching his legs out. "Were you trying to kill me?"

I turn away to prevent him from seeing my smile. As a personal trainer, I like to partake in the exercises, too. Which means I'm sweating just as bad as him. But I feel good. Powerful. Like I've done my body a favour as adrenaline pulses through my veins and my muscles ache. For me, exercise is an outlet. It helps me regain focus and heal.

From the small cabinet unit, I grab a fresh towel and wipe away the sweat. Then I toss it into the dirty laundry hamper. The upstairs isn't limited to space. With the walls lined with mirrors, the area feels ten times bigger. There's also a rack of weights lining one wall, as well as a treadmill, stationary bike, and elliptical up here. A portion of the floor is covered in black mats. Yet the space feels somewhat crowded. Uncle Ray once thought about expanding the area, but money is tight right now. He's had to do some major budget cuts.

"I tried to warn you," I reply. "My bio on Instagram says it all: we train hard. No room for slacking here."

Mikael shifts into a sitting position. His posture is arched. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll remember that for next time."

"Right. We need to schedule you for another session. What days work for you?"

While Mikael scrolls through his calendar, I grab my clipboard. Aside from the regulars who come here, there are several openings two weeks from today. Certain weeks are busier than the others, which is a pattern I've become used to.

"We're back from Arizona on the eighteenth," Mikael says. "For at least a week. Maybe in between games? The twentieth?"

I pencil the date. "Sounds like a date."

"Great."

He climbs to his feet, and I'm soon staring up at him. The height difference is insane—and I like to consider myself taller than average.

"Thanks for this, Ella," he says. "You're better than any trainers at the arena." He pauses, looking guilty. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

I roll my eyes. "Right. Because I will waltz over there and expose your dirty little secret."

He crosses his arms and shrugs, using that same cocky expression. "You can never be too careful."

The towel is draped over his shoulder, so I reach out and grab it, tossing it into the hamper. "It's time to go, Mikael. I have another client in fifteen minutes."

As I'm stepping past him, he grabs my wrist. "Are we still on for tomorrow? Post-game?"

Tomorrow night, after the game, there's a celebration for Kaleb and Melody's engagement. Prior to the party at their house, Mikael wants to take me out for dinner.

I'll admit, it feels like a date. But when I think back to what Uncle Ray said about me deserving to be happy, I brush any concerns away. Life is about moving on. Healing. Date or not, I need time with people I care about.

"Of course," I smile.

He returns the smile, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Great. I'll see you tomorrow, Ella. Thanks again for the session. Remember to keep that secret."

I chuckle, watching as Mikael heads down the stairs. Halfway down, he glances over his shoulder, turning my stomach into a pit of butterflies.

And giving my heart a taste of happiness in the storm.