“Again!” I shout, and my students join me, kicking their heavy bags in unison and filling the gym with loud, satisfying thuds. “And three!” They kick again. This is always the best part, the final countdown. “Now two!” Another kick. “And one!” They kick their bags one last time with a little more power. “Good!” I exclaim, grabbing my water bottle. “That was excellent work, everyone. Same time on Friday, and remember to bring your club dues.”

There are assorted cheers and groans, and conversation picks up as the students all start to clean their gear up and move on, some to home, others to another class.

After I found out that my mother poisoned the well for my personal training service, I ended up reaching out to an old friend from college to see if she had anything at all. Turns out, she’s still a Boston local, and she owns this gym. Just like that, I’m an instructor with a class, and it’s not even that far away from home. Just a nice brisk jog away.

Of course, I can’t quite let go of that voice. The nagging, eternally critical voice of my mother, always popping into my head when I least expect it. I look down at the slight curve of my stomach, pinching at my clingy gym wear. I’m soaked with sweat, and I probably look as fat as a house in this getup. What a mess I am.

The first couple of days, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I just kept thinking about how I shouldn’t be teaching anyone when I’m not even happy with my own body. Today, though, it’s Wednesday and I’m having a good day. I’m getting the hang of this. I’m not going to let Mother get the best of me, especially from hundreds of miles away. I love the work, and I’m good at it.

I repeat it in my head like a mantra every time she bubbles up.

I take a long, deep slug of my water, and dry my forehead and face with my towel, when I notice that Jack is standing just inside the room, holding a gift bag, watching me.

I wonder how long he’s been there. It couldn’t have been the whole class, but I can tell by the look on his face that he at least caught the tail end of it. I can feel the color flooding into my cheeks; it’s a little embarrassing, having people watch you when you’re in work mode. Then again, I’ve been doing high kicks all afternoon; maybe he got a bit of a show. I know he wants me. Maybe he didn’t when we were kids, but he does now. It’s hard to accept it fully, but he’s made it pretty clear at this point.

Extremely clear, really. He starts to walk toward me, in that impeccable suit of his, and I mentally undress him. That lean, perfect body, his strong arms, the way he carried me from the kitchen to the couch. The feel of his lips against mine, and how his beard feels against my cheek. I have a short but intense memory of him deep inside of me, filling me up in the best of ways, and how I practically begged to get that cock in my mouth so I could suck him completely dry.

And seeing Jack and Dylan together?

I tighten my thighs a little, feeling arousal starting to throb inside of me, my desire whispering that I could drag him into one of the windowless studios and have my way with him; nobody would know.

I far prefer the voice of desire to the voice of my mother.

“Hey, stranger,” I say, trying for a casual tone like I totally wasn’t just imagining tearing his pants off.

“Hey yourself, Duchess,” he says back with a grin, and I nearly melt.

Keep your cool, Cate.

“What brings you down to my little grinder?” I ask, winking. When Jack’s around, I find myself using body language that I normally wouldn’t dare to; moving my shoulders and hips around when I say things to him, leaning inward, inviting him to touch me wherever the hell he wants. I shift my weight from foot to foot, my hips swaying gently, as I wait to see why he’s here.

“I actually came to give you this,” he starts, and hands the gift bag out to me.

I smile, and feel practically giddy inside. A gift, for me? From Jack? What world am I living in now? “What is it?” I ask playfully.

“I felt real bad about everything that happened on Saturday, so.”

I wince a little internally. “Everything?”

I can see him recoil a little, as he realizes what he’s saying. “No, I mean, y’know. About the first ten minutes or so, let’s say, yeah?”

I smile, and reach inside the gift bag, pulling out a box. I laugh. It’s a coffeepot.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I say. “That happened way before you showed up.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, shrugging. “I hated seeing you hurt. This one’s all shatter-proof, or so it says on the box, anyway. In case you have another bad day, y’know?”

I can’t help but beam at him, seriously touched. He cares. He really does care about me.

“This is very thoughtful of you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Jack, really.”

We stare at each other, but it’s not awkward at all. It’s just calm, content, happy. After the whirlwind of the first two weeks here, this third week has been surprisingly pleasant. I can get used to this.

We’re interrupted by one of my students, a young girl named Sam with a deep brown ponytail. She’s maybe nine years old? Ten? Just the cutest thing. I have a quick thought about having kids of my own one day. Maybe if everything works out here, and if we somehow manage to keep the townhouse? Who knows. For now, anything feels possible.

“Miss MacMillan?” she asks, looking shy with Jack standing there.

“What is it, love?”

She stares at Jack a little longer, and I look at him. To my amazement, he offers a perfectly comforting smile, and holds his hands palms-up.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m not gonna get in the way of someone who kicks as hard as you two ladies do, believe me.”

Sam giggles, and looks at me. “Is this your boyfriend, Miss MacMillan?”

Both Jack and I laugh together, and look at each other just a little bit awkwardly. “I, uh…” I start.

“Yeah, well,” Jack continues. “I think we’re still figuring that out, pumpkin pie.”

Sam beams and looks at me, whispering conspiratorially, “He’s nice. Keep him.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely think about it,” I say back. “Need me to sign your participation form?”

“Yes, please.” It only takes a second, and as soon as I sign it, she yells out a quick “Thank you!” and sprints for the door. She’s gone in a split second. Jack and I look at each other, and share another loud laugh.

“She’s a character, ain’t she?” Jack says.

“I think she just has good taste,” I reply. “So was this all you came down for? To shower me with gifts?”

“Nah, not entirely,” he responds. “I thought maybe we could have dinner.”

“Oh!” I say through a quick laugh, and blush a bit. All I can think of is that first dinner, and how sexy Jack sounded when he went in for the kill. Is he saying he wants to sleep together again? Is this our new code? I’m not completely sure how he’s dealing with his newfound bisexuality, if at all; if we were anywhere else but work, I could be more explicit.

“Do you mean, like last time? With you, me, and Dylan?” I ask coyly, covering up my anxiety. What if he says no?

“Yeah, definitely,” he says, and I let my breath slide out of me in relief. He sounds a little anxious, but I can see in his eyes that he means what he says. We’ve shared so much at this point that I can’t imagine him doing anything he doesn’t want to do with us. “I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

“So, at the house?” I ask, a little note of hopefulness in my voice.

“Well, y’know,” he starts, and I suddenly feel a pang of anxiety. “I thought maybe we could do this in public.”

“Public?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, looking sheepish. “Y’know, to finally talk about the contract, without all the… distractions we keep running into?”

“Oh, right! Yeah, of course,” I say, trying my best to sound cheerful and unbothered, but I don’t know that I’m doing a great job of hiding my disappointment. I feel just a little ashamed and self-conscious; great sex, no, phenomenal sex has never been a part of my life before, and the more I get, the more I find I crave it. I’ve been so focused on the hot, amazing fun we’ve all been having that I almost completely spaced on the contract hovering above all of us. “That’s probably a really good idea.”

“But hey,” Jack continues, with an edge of playfulness in his voice. “Maybe afterward, we can all have a nightcap? Back at the townhouse?”

“Oh, God yes!” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I cover my mouth and grin like a kid. I take a quick moment to compose myself. “Yes, of course. That’d be lovely.”

Jack laughs. “Yeah, okay, Duchess. How’s Friday night? Give you a couple days to think about what you wanna do before we get together and hash it all out?”

“That sounds perfect, Jack,” I say.

“Good,” he says, and I feel that flutter in my heart as he leans in. Is he going to kiss me here, in semi-public? The thought has barely occurred to me before he’s pulling me in close, his hands gently cupping my face as his lips meet mine, and suddenly all thoughts melt away, replaced by sensation and fluttering delight. I sink into the kiss easily, and smile into it as it comes to an end.

“Good,” I repeat, eyes half-lidded as I look up into his. God, he’s tall. Both of them are. I love feeling small around them. Small and safe and wanted. “I’ll see you then.”

“Not if I see you first,” Jack says with a wink, before turning and striding out of the practice studio. He gives me one last glance over his shoulder, and I wave like a dopey teenager. He laughs and pushes out the gym door onto the street.

I watch him go, every single step, until he’s out of sight. I can feel I’m smiling, and I know I must look ridiculous and dreamy. How does he do this to me? How do both of them keep doing this to me? I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, and now I have it with two people. Two almost completely different people, who, when you put them together, make something so beautiful that I can barely comprehend it myself. It leaves me breathless, and aching for more.

I’ve known them forever, and yet I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface in some ways. I look down to the gift bag with the coffeepot in it, and beam all over again. This was the end result of me being myself, my whole ugly and beaten-down self. A gift, an apology, being taken care of. The world didn’t end; it just opened up in ways I would never have imagined before.

I touch my fingertips to my lips, still tasting the ghost of Jack’s kiss. I can’t wait. Two days seems almost like forever, now.