When I have some free time, I always try to make it to the yoga studio for a workout. As I get older, my flexibility and balance are more important than ever and even though I have a specific trainer at the Whalers for this, I always like to fit in extra sessions when I can.
It’s pouring down as I pull up to the studio I regularly attend uptown, so I make a mad dash for the entrance, my duffel slung over my shoulder. By the time I burst through the front door, my sweatpants and hoodie are soaked through, and so are my sneakers.
“Whoa there, big guy.” The guy behind the reception desk laughs as I slip around on the wet marble floor, quickly regaining my balance, trying to style out my clumsiness.
I laugh and run my fingers through my shaggy wet hair, shaking it off. “Hey Dev, how’s it going?” I ask the lean Indian guy who jointly owns the studio with his twin brother Nish.
“It’s going great, man. We’re always extra busy when it rains and people can’t use the outdoor spaces.” He chuckles. “You booked in for a private session today?” He begins to scroll through his iPad.
“No, just thought I’d join the next available class if that’s okay,” I reply, wiping my sneakers on the mat before carefully walking to the reception desk. Last thing I need is to fall on my ass on a wet floor and injure myself.
“Sure thing. We have a Core Power class with Lynn starting in ten and there’s a few spaces free,” Dev says, typing on his iPad. “Want me to book you in?”
“Sounds perfect. Could do with Lynn’s brand of ass kicking today.” I laugh, knowing that she always manages to push me to my limit, and I feel like I need that today. For some reason I’ve been unusually tense this week, and I need to lose myself in the peace and focus of Vinyasa yoga.
I hand Dev my credit card so he can charge the class and then I fill my water bottle from the cooler and make my way back to the locker rooms. I pass a few regulars on my way, and we exchange brief greetings. One of the reasons I keep coming back to this same studio is the chilled atmosphere Dev and Nish have created. Several other athletes from the city’s sports teams come here for the same reason I do—we can work out in peace because no one bothers us. The few times I’ve had people interrupt my low lunge asking me to sign their yoga mat, Dev has made it clear it’s not cool and has asked them to back off or leave. Obviously, I catch the sideways glances and the nudges from people who don’t know that I come here, but on the whole, I’m left alone.
Once in the locker room, I strip out of my damp sweatpants and hoodie so I’m just in my yoga shorts and tank top, stuff everything into a locker and take my yoga mat, water bottle, and towel, and make it through to the studio area. There’s quite a crowd outside Lynn’s room waiting for the class to start, so I hang back and try to relax and concentrate on my breathing. I need to lose some of this tension in my body before the class or I’ll end up pulling a muscle. As I wait, I try to pinpoint what’s got me so worked up. It could be that I’ve not got laid for months. Even though I’ve been out as much as usual, no one is catching my eye lately—other than one very obvious exception. The bunnies that hang around the team pale in comparison and just look more and more unappealing. It’s funny that the only woman to pique my interest is the one woman I can’t have. After that night at O’Connell’s when Lana and I called a fragile truce, I’ve not seen her but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about her. In fact, the woman seems to haunt my dreams like some kind of sexy spirit, and I’m fed up waking up in middle of the night, covered in sweat and as hard as granite.
“Alex?”
I spin around at the sound of my name and as if my thoughts have manifested her into being, Lana stands in front of me, looking cuter than I remember. Her long chestnut hair is up in a high ponytail, soft tendrils skimming down her elegant neck. She’s wearing a matching purple sports bra and yoga pants that hug her dangerous curves and make my mouth water. Her skin has the same lightly tanned tone as her brother’s, and I fully take in the sprinkling of freckles on her shoulders and the swell of her breasts for the first time. I literally have to grip my yoga mat in my fist to stop my fingers from reaching out to touch her, tracing the freckled pattern across her silky skin, and finding out if there are more of them hidden from sight
As I stare dumbly at Lana, Mila appears as well. “Oh hey, Thor. I forgot you come here,” she says cheerily. “Are you waiting for Lynn’s class?”
I shake my head, so I stop staring like an idiot and train my gaze on Mila. “Yeah, thought I’d fit in a session before the game against the Twisters tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know you big alpha jocks would do something like yoga.” Lana smirks.
“It’s not nice to generalize about jocks, you know.” That wipes the smirk from her face. “Some of us can be sensitive guys who just happen to need the flexibility for our job and … other stuff.”
I’m the one doing all the smirking now, and she’s the one standing there, mouth hanging slightly open, looking up and down my body.
“Oh, yeah. Lots of them do,” Mila says, after a few seconds go by, surely feeling the tension. “We actually have a yoga trainer at the Whalers, but lots of the players do their own private sessions, right?” She looks at me with her wide whiskey-colored eyes, and I realize I haven’t heard a word she’s said because I’m transfixed by the length of Lana’s eyelashes.
“Huh?” I mumble, dragging my hand across my mouth because I’m sure there’s some drool there. Lana seems to snap out of it at the same time.
“Okay, everyone. Come on in!” Lynn calls from the door to her studio, saving me from more awkward staring.
“Thank god. It looks like the big guy is about to stroke out.” Lana smirks, commenting on my sudden inability to hold an intelligent conversation. I could comment on the looks she’s given me, but I let it slide. She strides past me into the studio, and the sight of her round ass in those yoga pants does nothing to help my moronic state.
“Dude, you need to stop drooling over Lana,” Mila hisses as she walks beside me, digging her elbow into my ribs. “You know Matt will kick your ass into next week if he catches you.”
“What?” I protest, realizing I’ve been less than stealthy, and I need to rein that shit in, especially around Mila. “I wasn’t… you’re insane. I don’t have a death wish.”
Mila stops me with a hand on my forearm. “I hope not.” Suddenly, she looks deadly serious. “I don’t know what went on with her in Paris, but I have a feeling someone hurt her. She’s not some random girl you can just hook up with. Please, just stay away.”
All at once, I find it hard to catch my breath. Did someone hurt her? I want to track down whoever it is and rip them apart. I can feel my teeth grinding and my fists clenching as I try to control the surge of anger that’s bubbling up in my chest.
Mila obviously senses my change in mood and squeezes my arm, bringing my attention back to her. “Hey, relax. She’s fine. I just think there’s more going on than she’s letting on. Call it female intuition. But you do need to back off and leave her alone.”
I take a deep breath. “Message received and understood.” I pat Mila’s upper arm, and we go into the yoga studio and set up our mats next to a confused-looking Lana.
“What have you two been whispering about?” she asks, sitting cross-legged and looking at me with her wide blue eyes.
“Oh, just work stuff,” Mila replies nonchalantly, rolling out her mat and joining Lana.
She seems to accept that explanation, and as Lynn begins the class, she turns her attention to the pre-session briefing, and I set up my mat so that Mila is between us. Even with her warning still ringing in my ears, I know that if I work out next to Lana, my situation won’t get any easier.
I’ve never seen a man as huge as Alex Bergman move with such grace and nimbleness. As we move from position to position, I’m finding it harder to concentrate on my breathing and focus on what the instructor is saying. I watch his impressive muscles flex and strain into poses that should be physically impossible for him. He moves effortlessly from mountain pose to warrior pose, his center perfectly aligned so he doesn’t even wobble.
I, however, haven’t set foot inside a yoga studio for months, so I’m all over the place. My plank is weak, and I can barely touch the floor in triangle pose without tipping over. My body is slicked in sweat and muscles I forgot I had are screaming in protest. I really need to lay off the cheese!
However, the more pressing issue is the heat that’s building in my core as I covertly watch Alex work his body in my peripheral vision. He has this intense look of pure concentration on his face, and as I take a break and watch him stretch his hips up into a bridge, I try to avert my gaze before I embarrass myself. But I can’t stop tracking the defined muscles of his huge thighs and muscular calves that power his body up into each position, my imagination going to filthy places that they really shouldn’t, especially with one of my brother’s teammates.
In any case, I may be on a diet, but I can still look at the menu, right? And what an impressive menu it is.
As I ponder this, I realize my mouth is hanging open and it’s suddenly very dry, so I reach for my water bottle, still staring at him like a fool.
“Enjoying the view, kid?” He smirks at me as his hips thrust slowly toward the ceiling again, and I notice the impressive bulge clearly visible in his yoga shorts. Shit, I’m so busted. My already red cheeks heat up even more at being caught out ogling his junk, so I take a huge swig from my water bottle and end up choking on it on his next upward thrust.
“Excuse me a minute,” I splutter, leaping up from my yoga mat and racing for the door so I can put some distance between me and the hot hunk of man that I suddenly can’t take my eyes off.
“Are you okay, babe?” Mila follows me out of the studio and lightly pats my back as I continue to cough up the water that’s gone down the wrong way.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” I gasp. “I’ve just not done yoga for a while and that’s a pretty intense class.”
Lies! It’s actually the blonde Viking doing the sex positions in the other room that has me all hot and bothered.
“Take no notice of Thor.” Mila laughs. “He’s a total goofball. You should see how he pushes Beth’s buttons.”
Great, now all I can think about is Alex pressing my “button”! For fuck’s sake, I need to get out of here.
“Can we go and get a coffee?” I suggest. “I think I’m done for today.”
“Sure, the class is almost over anyway.” Mila’s eyes flick back toward the studio. “You stay here, and I’ll grab our stuff and tell Thor we’re leaving.”
“Thanks, Mila,” I sigh, happy that I won’t have to go back in there and see Alex all sweaty and flexing.
Thankfully the rain has stopped as we step out of the studio, so we walk down the street to a coffee shop and order café au lait and an indulgent chocolate cake to share. As I put the first forkful into my mouth, I moan loudly. It’s almost as good as the cakes I used to buy from the patisserie near Etienne’s apartment.
“Oooh, this is good,” Mila groans. “And I don’t feel guilty eating it after that yoga session.” She licks her fork clean and goes in for another piece.
“All the cakes are like this in Paris,” I recall. “I swear when I first arrived, I put on ten pounds just because I couldn’t resist going to the patisserie every day.”
“God, I’d be a nightmare.” Mila laughs, sipping her coffee. “I have zero willpower.”
We eat in companionable silence for a while, but I can almost see the cogs turning in Mila’s head as she thinks extra hard about something.
“What’s up?” I finally ask, unable to stand it any longer. “You look like you have something you want to say.” I put my fork down and wait for her to make a comment about me drooling over Alex at the yoga studio.
Mila also puts her fork down as well and sighs. “Matt always says I have a terrible poker face.” She laughs self-consciously.
“It’s pretty obvious you’re trying to think of a way to ask me something, so just come out and say it.” I don’t mean to come off as snappy, but I’ve always been a straight talker and I can’t stand people beating around the bush. I’m a big girl. I can own the fact that I was ogling Alex’s body.
“Matt’s worried about you. He thinks there’s more to your return than you’re letting on, and it’s starting to drive him a little bit crazy,” Mila states, crossing her arms over her chest. Suddenly, all the fun has gone from our conversation.
Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. The guilt about causing my brother pain immediately crushes the breath out of my chest, and I feel the tears threaten to spill over.
“Oh, Lana. I’m sorry,” Mila gasps, reaching over to cover my hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But he’s really worried about you, and so am I.”
“I’m fine,” I reply a little too quickly, blinking back tears. “It’s nothing, really.”
Mila smiles kindly and squeezes my hand. “So perhaps you can explain why we hear you crying and calling out in your sleep.”
“What?” I ask, feeling a cold chill creeping up my spine at her revelation.
“We hear you almost every night,” she continues. “You’re crying out for help and other stuff that doesn’t make much sense, a lot of it is in French, I think.”
“Oh,” I whisper, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t realize I’d been doing that. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Honey, it’s not that you’re disturbing us. We’re worried that you’re having nightmares every single night.”
I huff out a breath and cover my face with my hands, unable to contain the emotion I’ve been trying so hard to conceal. Obviously, I’ve been doing a poor job of it because my subconscious has been letting it out at night.
“Lana, please. Let us help you. Or just me.” Mila shifts her chair so she can put her arm around my shoulders. “You can tell me as much or as little as you want, but you might feel better if you let some of it go.”
I look up and meet Mila’s kind eyes and before I can chicken out, I say, “There was a guy in Paris. Turns out he wasn’t a good guy, and he hurt me, so I had to leave.” Tears of shame slide my cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away.
Mila’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Lana.” I can see her eyes glistening as she imagines all sorts of horrors. “Did he physically hurt you? Was he abusive?”
I want to say he didn’t, but I love Mila, and I think she deserves to know.
“He did. I think I’m a walking cliché.” I smile, trying to dismiss her concerned look. “The stuff you see in movies, the way women think it’ll all turn out okay in the end, and that he will change? I thought so, too. But he didn’t. I’m fine now, though. I got out.”
“You’re obviously not fine, babe. Not if you’re dreaming about him every night,” Mila states, the muscle in her jaw ticking as her anger builds. “That asshole needs to be dealt with!”
This is exactly what I was scared would happen if I told people what Etienne did.
“No, please, Mila. I’m okay. He’s in Paris and I’m here,” I plead, grasping her hand. “If you tell Matt, he’ll make a huge deal out of it, and I’ll never be free. I just want to forget about it and live my life. Please.”
Mila looks torn between honoring my request and her loyalty to my brother, her eyebrows knotting in contemplation.
“I don’t know, Lana. I need to tell Matt something. He’s lying awake at night waiting to see if you’re okay, and he’s exhausted.”
Yet again, the guilt that I’m interfering with my brother’s life weighs heavy on my shoulders. I didn’t mean to bring all this drama to his doorstep.
I take a deep breath and pull up my big girl pants. “Fine, I’ll tell him about Etienne, but I’m still not comfortable giving him all the details.”
Mila hugs me again. “Thank you. He only has your best interest at heart, and he loves you. It’s killing him that you’re hurting, and he can’t help.”
I laugh bitterly. He always thinks it’s his job to save me. Hopefully, this time I’ve managed to save myself.
When Mila and I get back to the house, I quickly disappear into my room to take a shower and consider how I’m going to bring up the subject of Etienne with my brother. He’s a hothead and his first reaction is bound to be anger, so on the drive home I asked Mila to be there when I tell him. She has a very calming energy over him, and hopefully it’ll prevent him from going nuclear.
I’m just roughly drying my hair when someone knocks on my door.
“Hey Squirt, you decent?”
“Come in,” I call, pulling my robe tightly around my body.
Matt cracks the door open and pokes his head in. “Mila’s ordered Thai. You gonna join us?”
“Yeah, perfect. Give me ten minutes,” I reply.
Stage One of the plan is in place—order Matt’s favorite takeout to keep him sweet.
By the time I get downstairs, the food has arrived, and Mila is opening takeout boxes and handing out plates and napkins.
“Mmmm, this smells amazing,” I say, spooning some red curry onto my plate even though my stomach is in knots, and I can’t even think about eating.
“Great choice, Red.” Matt leans over and plants a sweet kiss on Mila’s cheek. They’re so cute together that it makes it hard for me not to feel lonely or wanting to have someone special in my life too.
“Actually, Lana suggested it,” Mila replies, her eyes widening as if to indicate that this is my moment. I suppose it is because as long as my brother is shoveling jasmine rice into his mouth he won’t be growling or threatening to kill Etienne.
Matt grunts his appreciation, grabbing a chicken satay from a carton and sliding the meat off the stick with his teeth.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say quietly, pushing my plate away, the smell of the pungent curry making my stomach churn.
“Shoot, what’s up?”
“It’s about Paris.”
Matt looks up at me, a spoonful of curry halfway to his mouth, hovering there. His eyes flick to Mila, and she smiles at him and puts her hand on his arm, lowering the dripping spoon back into his bowl.
“Hear her out, baby,” she whispers, leaning over to kiss his scruffy cheek. “I’m gonna go eat on the couch, give you two some privacy.”
I nod and smile. Mila is so kind and thoughtful, giving us space but staying close enough to intervene if Matt gets too big brothery.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Matt also pushes his plate away and folds his arms over his broad chest, leaning back in his chair.
Shit, this is it. It’s time to come clean and at least tell my brother some of what went down in Paris.
I huff out a breath and run my hands through my hair, my skin suddenly feeling too hot and too tight.
“I left Paris because a relationship I was in ended, and I needed some space from him,” I state quietly, fiddling with my napkin.
“Okay, I suppose that makes sense,” he growls. “What happened?”
This is where I need to be careful. If I say too much, my brother will be on the warpath.
“Etienne was … very intense and passionate,” I begin, my heart thumping against my ribs as I remember the early days of our relationship when his passion used to make me feel like the only woman in the world. “He was a head chef at one of the best restaurants in Paris, and we met at Le Cordon Bleu when he came to give a cooking demonstration. He was so chic and handsome, from a really good Parisian family, and he literally swept me off my feet.”
“Ugh, enough with the lovey dovey shit, Squirt!” Matt mumbles, looking deeply uncomfortable at my recollections.
I laugh lightly, always happy to make my brother squirm. “We started dating, and it was wonderful and romantic, and we were so happy.”
“So, what went wrong?”
I prepare to tell the half-truth that I hope will satisfy Matt enough that he’ll drop it for at least a little while longer.
“What started out as passion soon turned into possessiveness. He wanted to know where I was all the time and to control me.” I lower my gaze from Matt’s as his eyes begin to blaze with anger. “He put a tracker on my phone and started keeping track of where I went when we weren’t together and who I was with. It was pretty scary.”
“What the fuck, Lana?” Matt bellows, standing up so quickly his chair tips over and crashes to the floor. “How long did it go on for?”
“We were together for a year, but it got really bad about six months in,” I reply. I feel the shame flooding into me, even though I’m not the one who should feel ashamed. He was the one who was wrong; I allowed it to happen, but I won’t allow him any more space in my life.
“Six fucking months! You put up with that shit for six months?” He slams his palms into the table and the glasses rattle. Thankfully, Mila chooses that moment to come back to the kitchen and puts her hand on Matt’s shoulder.
“Babe, you need to calm down and let Lana say her piece,” she coos quietly into his ear, and I slowly see the tension leave his body as he picks up his chair and sits back down.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Carry on.”
I swallow hard and let out a breath. “I did try to leave him a few times, but he always charmed his way back in. I’m not proud of it. I thought it was better to have him than to be by myself, and I know that’s wrong. In the end, I knew I had to leave Paris to put enough distance between us to really cut ties. It was such a hard decision because I love it there, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be strong enough to say no to him.” I finally let the tears that have been threatening throughout my story fall down my cheeks, and I do feel a little more peaceful having shared at least part of my story with Matt and Mila.
As I sit and cry, I feel my brother’s big hands on my biceps as he pulls me to my feet and envelops me in a warm hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in his comforting familiar smell. We stand like that for a long time until my tears dry on my face and my arms ache from reaching around Matt’s thick body.
“You can always come to me. I am always here for you, whatever it is. We both are.” Matt’s voice is thick with emotion. “Hope you haven’t got snot on my shirt, Squirt. It’s new.” He chuckles, and I know everything will be alright.
I rub my face on his chest, making sniffing noises, and he pushes me away, laughing. “Little brat,” he chuckles, kissing my forehead and ruffling my hair.
I slap his hand away and smile, yet again so thankful my brother is such a good and caring man, even if he does bug the shit out of me sometimes.