The gym smells like sweat, metal, and a hint of rubber mats, the holy trinity of effort and testosterone. It's the kind of place where you can lose yourself for a while, and lately, that's what I've been needing. 

I wrap my hands around the pull-up bar, feeling the cool steel bite into my palms. My muscles scream as I haul myself up, chin clearing the bar, but it's a good kind of pain. The kind that reminds you you're alive.

I'm on my third set when my mind drifts. Valarie. She's always there, lurking in the corners of my thoughts like a goddamn siren. It's not just her laugh or the way she wrinkles her nose when she's focused on something. It's the way she sees me—really sees me. Like I'm not just a cop or some guy with a messy past but a man she wants. A man she trusts. And Elias—fuck, as much as he annoys me sometimes, he gets it. He gets her, and hell if that doesn't make me respect him more than I thought possible.

I drop down from the bar, shaking out my arms. My muscles burn, but it's a good distraction from the gnawing questions that creep in when I'm not looking. Like how the hell we're going to balance this thing we've got going with Valarie. Or what happens if one of us screws it up.

And don't even get me started on every spiraling thought when it comes to adding Adrian to the mix.

I grab a towel, wiping the sweat off my face, when I feel it. That sensation of being watched. It's not the usual gym bro side-eye either. This is... different. I glance up, and there she is.

Gina.

Of course, it's fucking Gina.

She's leaning against the far wall, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her phone as if she's just casually checking something. But the second our eyes meet, she straightens, a slow smile spreading across her face. She knew I'd be here. There's no way this is a coincidence.

After the other weekend with her showing up at my apartment, it's like she is everywhere. At the bakery where I get my donuts. At my favorite coffee shop. Everywhere.

"Declan, baby," she says, sauntering over like she owns the place. Her tone is sweet, too sweet, and I can feel my defenses snapping into place.

"Gina," I reply, curt. I sling the towel over my shoulder and cross my arms, trying to make it clear this is not a welcome reunion. "What are you doing here?"

She tilts her head, her blonde hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights. "Can't a girl get a workout in without being interrogated?"

I narrow my eyes. "You don't work out."

She laughs, a tinkling sound that used to make my stomach flip. Now, it just grates. "Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

"Bullshit." I step closer, lowering my voice. "You followed me here, didn't you?"

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, but she recovers quickly. "Don't flatter yourself, Declan."

Flatter myself? Jesus Christ. This woman could spin anything to suit her narrative. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. "What do you want, Gina?"

She shrugs, her expression feigning innocence. "Maybe I wanted to see you. Maybe I've been thinking about us."

"There is no 'us.' Not anymore." My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I don't regret it. She needs to hear this. Again.

"Don't be like that," she says, stepping closer. Too close. "We were good together once." Her words echo almost the exact same thing she said last time I ran into her, and the time before that, and the time before that. She says the same thing every time she stalks me somewhere.

"Were," I snap. "Past tense. We're not those people anymore."

Her eyes soften, and for a second, I almost believe the vulnerability in her expression. Almost. "You really don't miss it? Any of it?"

I hesitate, just for a moment. Because the truth is, I don't. Not really. Our relationship had been built on shared history and convenience, not real love. And once the cracks started showing, there was nothing strong enough to hold us together. "No," I say firmly. "I don't."

Her face hardens, the mask slipping. "You've changed," she says, her voice laced with bitterness.

"Yeah," I agree, meeting her gaze head-on. "I have. And so have you."

For a moment, there's silence between us. The sounds of weights clinking and people grunting fade into the background as we stare each other down. Then she steps back, crossing her arms over her chest. "So, what? You're with someone else now? Is that it?"

Her words hit a nerve, but I don't let it show. "Not that it's any of your business, but yeah. I am."

Her lips press into a thin line, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. She's trying to figure out how to twist this, how to regain control of the conversation. But I'm not giving her the chance.

"I don't know what you thought was going to happen here, Gina," I say, my tone steady but firm. "But whatever it was, it's not. We're done. We've been done. Please, I beg of you, move on."

She huffs, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "You really don't feel anything for me anymore?"

"No," I say without hesitation. "And honestly? I'm not sure I ever did. Not the way you wanted me to."

The words hang heavy between us, and for the first time, Gina looks genuinely shaken. I almost feel bad. Almost. But then I remember all the lies, the manipulation, the constant power plays. This is what she does. She tries to make you feel guilty, tries to make you doubt yourself. Not this time.

Before she can say anything else, I hear a voice behind me. "Everything okay here?"

I turn to see Elias standing a few feet away, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His expression is casual, but there's an edge to his tone that tells me he's ready to step in if he needs to. I nod, grateful for the backup. "Yeah. We're good."

Gina's eyes flick to Elias, and I can see the curiosity in her gaze. "Hey, you're the guy from his apartment, right?"

"Yeah," Elias replies, his tone slow and drawn out. Elias knows all about Gina and our past. So does Valarie. Elias, though, has been the only one around when Gina shows up. I don't know if that's a blessing or not. I'm not so sure how Valarie would react. My money is probably on Valarie kicking her ass, and honestly that's the last thing I need. 

Don't get me wrong, I would be proud. But I would also be embarrassed, being a cop having to bail his girlfriend out fo jail for assault. 

Elias steps closer, his eyes laser-focused on Gina. He sizes her up, his posture loose but with a coiled tension just beneath the surface. I know that look. He's not about to let her get away with anything.

Gina, of course, doesn't read the room. She tilts her head, her blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights as she offers Elias a smile that's far too polished to be genuine. "You're awfully protective of Declan. Are you his... gym buddy?"

The way she says it, the pause before the term, it's clear she's fishing. Elias doesn't bite. Instead, he drops his bag at his feet and crosses his arms, smirking like he's already five steps ahead of her.

"Something like that," he says, his voice casual but with an edge. "I'm here to make sure he doesn't get harassed by his past."

Gina laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. "Harassed? Come on, Declan and I have history. I'm just here to chat."

"Chat?" I cut in, my voice sharp. "Gina, you've been following me around for weeks. Showing up at the bakery, the coffee shop, now here. This isn't chatting; it's stalking."

Her eyes flash, but she quickly schools her expression back into something resembling hurt. "Stalking? That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

Elias chuckles under his breath, clearly unimpressed. "You know what's dramatic? Showing up at someone's gym uninvited and acting like it's a coincidence. What's your endgame here, Gina?"

She turns her attention fully to him now, her smile shifting into something more flirtatious. "You're quite bold, aren't you? Declan always had a thing for bold people."

Elias raises an eyebrow, unbothered. "I'm sure he did. Doesn't mean it's working for you."

For a moment, Gina looks thrown off, but she rallies quickly, stepping closer to Elias. She rests a hand on her hip, leaning in slightly. "You seem like the kind of guy who doesn't mind a little trouble. Maybe we should get a drink sometime. Talk about... Declan."

I freeze, a surge of anger bubbling in my chest. Before I can say anything, Elias surprises me. His hand reaches out, and suddenly, it's clasping mine. Firm, steady. He doesn't even look at me, his gaze locked on Gina, daring her to say something.

It should feel weird. Two grown men holding hands in the middle of a gym, a public display of solidarity. But it doesn't. If anything, it feels right. Like Elias just planted a flag in the ground and said, enough.

Gina's eyes flick to our joined hands, then back to our faces. Her expression morphs into something bitter and calculating. "Well," she says, her tone acidic, "I guess that explains a lot."

She spins on her heel, her ponytail whipping behind her, and stalks off toward the exit. "Enjoy your little bromance, Declan. Or whatever the hell this is."

Elias waits until she's out of sight before letting go of my hand. I don't know why, but my hand wasn't ready. I glance at him, half expecting some kind of joke, but he's serious. His expression softens just slightly, enough to make me think that he's not just putting on a show.

"You didn't have to do that," I say, my voice low.

He shrugs, bending down to grab his bag. "Yeah, I did. She needed to know she's not welcome in your life anymore. Sometimes people don't get the hint until you shove it in their face."

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Then, with a sly grin, he adds, "Besides, I couldn't let her think she had a shot with me. That would've been cruel."

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. "You're something else, man."

"Damn right I am." He starts walking toward the weights, then pauses, glancing back at me. "You okay?"

I nod, the tension in my chest easing now that Gina's gone. "Yeah. I'm good."

Elias gives me a knowing look, like he doesn't entirely believe me, but he lets it go. "Come on, let's finish up before she decides to come back and throw another tantrum."

I follow him, grabbing my towel and taking a swig from my water bottle. As we settle into our workout routine, I can't help but think about the moment we shared. The way it felt to have Elias standing by my side, hand in mine, like he was saying, I've got you.

I watch as Elias's muscles flex and move, the man a powerhouse of lean, controlled strength. His biceps bulge as he curls a dumbbell, the vein running down his arm standing out in sharp relief. It's... impressive. 

Not in a way that I haven't noticed before—we've worked out together plenty of time, and done other physical activities together—but something about it feels different today. It's like I'm seeing him for the first time, and that thought alone makes my chest tighten.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

I shake my head, trying to refocus on my own set. The bench press bar rests on the rack in front of me, and I lie back, gripping it tightly. The steel feels solid, familiar, and grounding. I push up, lowering the weight and pressing it back up with deliberate precision. Counting the reps helps distract me, at least for a moment.

But then Elias's voice cuts through. "You sure you're good? You've been weirdly quiet."

"I'm always quiet," I mutter, my voice gruff.

"Bullshit," Elias shoots back, a boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leans against the rack, towel slung over his shoulder, watching me like he's trying to figure me out. "You've got that look on your face. Like you're stuck in your own head."

"Maybe I am," I admit, racking the bar with a clang. I sit up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "It's been a long week."

Elias nods, his expression softening. "Yeah, I get that. Valarie said work's been kicking your ass."

"Something like that." I reach for my water bottle, taking a long sip. Anything to avoid the way his gaze feels a little too steady, a little too knowing.

Elias doesn't press, which I appreciate. Instead, he moves to the cable machine, adjusting the weight and starting his set. I try not to look, but my eyes wander anyway. The way his back muscles ripple under his shirt as he pulls the cable down—it's hypnotic in a way I can't quite explain.

I force myself to focus on my phone, scrolling mindlessly through playlists to find a new song. But my brain keeps circling back to that moment earlier, when he took my hand without hesitation. I can still feel the warmth of his grip, solid and steady. The way it didn't feel weird, even though maybe it should have. It felt... comforting. Right.

And that scares the shit out of me.

I've never thought about a guy like this before. Never. It's always been women, always been simple. But this thing with Elias—this dynamic we have with Valarie—it's changed things. It's blurred lines I didn't even know existed.

Elias catches my eye as he finishes his set, and he grins. "You're staring, man. Either say something or stop making it weird."

"Wasn't staring," I shoot back, a little too quickly.

"Sure, you weren't," he teases, grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig. He doesn't push it, though, which I'm grateful for.

I turn back to my own workout, trying to clear my head. But the thoughts keep creeping in, uninvited and relentless. The way Elias had my back with Gina, how natural it felt to rely on him. The way he makes me laugh when I don't even realize I need it. The way he just... fits into my life in a way I never expected.

It's confusing as hell, and it makes me feel off-kilter. Because if I'm being honest with myself—which I hate doing—there's something there. Something I don't know how to name. It's not just respect or admiration or even friendship. It's more, and it's new, and it terrifies me.

I finish my set, the bar clanging back onto the rack as I sit up. Elias is watching me again, a faint smirk on his face. "You're still in your head, aren't you?"

"Maybe," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "Or maybe I'm just tired."

"Could've fooled me," he says, his voice light but with a hint of concern beneath it. "Come on, let's hit the punching bag. That'll clear your head."

I nod, grateful for the suggestion. As we move toward the bag, I steal a glance at him, at the easy way he carries himself, the confidence that radiates from him without effort. And I wonder—maybe for the first time—what it would feel like to let myself really lean into this thing we're building. Not just with Valarie, but with him too.

The thought lingers, unsettling and oddly comforting all at once.