âNo, not there. That goes in the corner by the window,â I say, pointing to the far side of the room.
The contractor nods, hefting the heavy equipment and trudging across the gym floor.
I turn to the next worker. âAnd you can start prepping that wall for demolition. We need to knock it down to expand the space.â
The gym buzzes with activity, a controlled chaos of men moving equipment and marking walls. Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming through the high windows, catching on the sheen of sweat on my forehead. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, my eyes scanning the room to ensure everythingâs progressing as planned.
âRemember, this needs to be done in three days,â I call out over the noise. âI know itâs a tight schedule, but Iâll make it worth your while.â
A chorus of affirmative grunts answers me.
Good. They understand the urgency.
âLooks like a demo zone in here,â a familiar voice booms from the doorway.
I turn to see Maceâs hulking form filling the entrance, his gray eyes taking in the scene with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
âThatâs because it is,â I reply, walking over to him.
Mace raises an eyebrow. âAny second thoughts about turning most of your gym into a studio for Ophelia?â
I shake my head without hesitation. âNone at all.â
A smile spreads across Maceâs face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. âDidnât think so.â
I lead him over to a table set up in the corner, away from the noise and dust. Blueprints and sketches are spread out across its surface, held down by various weights and dumbbells.
âIâve enlisted Troyâs help with the design,â I explain, pointing to one of the more detailed sketches. âHeâs the artistic one, after all.â
Pretty sure he still hates me, but he was willing to help for Opheliaâs sake at least.
So thatâs progress.
Mace leans in, his eyes roving over the plans. I start detailing the different areas, my finger tracing the lines on the paper.
âThis will be the main area, with a kiln over here and a wheel there. Weâre knocking down this wall to create more space for works in progress,â I say, tapping the spot where the workers are prepping for demolition. âAnd over here, by the window, weâre building a nest for when she needs a break.â
I pause, my finger hovering over the spot on the blueprint. In my mindâs eye, I can see Ophelia curled up there, bathed in sunlight, her raven hair spilling over her shoulders. The image sends a pang of longing and regret shooting through my chest.
A pang Iâve become all too familiar with.
Maceâs voice pulls me back to the present. âYouâre really determined to make amends, arenât you?â
I look up at him, meeting his steady gaze. âThis isnât about getting Ophelia to forgive me,â I say, my voice low and serious. âItâs just about making her comfortable here. Making sure she knows this is her home and itâs where she belongs. I know itâs going to take a hell of a lot more than a fancy studio.â
Maceâs large hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. âIâm glad youâre setting realistic expectations, kid.â
I nod, my eyes drifting back to the plans. âIâll find a way to deal, even if she can never forgive me.â
The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I force myself to say them. To believe them. Because the alternativeâhoping for forgiveness I donât deserveâis too dangerous to contemplate.
âWell,â Mace says, his voice taking on a lighter tone, âat least youâll have a kickass new gym when all this is done.â
I snort, grateful for the change in subject. âYeah, if thereâs anything left of it.â
We both turn to survey the room. The contractors have made quick work of clearing out the equipment, leaving large empty spaces where my usual training gear used to be. Itâs strange seeing my sanctuary so bare, so different from what Iâm used to.
But then I think of Ophelia, and I know itâs worth it. Every square inch given up, every change madeâ¦
Itâs all for her.
âYou know,â Mace says, breaking into my thoughts, âI never pegged you for an interior designer.â
I roll my eyes. âIâm not. Thatâs why Troyâs helping. He designed the schematics.â
âAh, yes. Our resident rockstar-slash-decorator. Who wouldâve thought?â
âHeâs got some wild ideas,â I admit, gesturing to one of the more elaborate sketches. âHad to talk him down from installing a freaking chandelier.â
Mace barks out a laugh. âNow that I wouldâve paid to see. Ophelia sculpting under a crystal chandelier while youâre trying to do deadlifts in the corner.â
The mental image is so absurd that I canât help but laugh along with him. For a moment, the tension thatâs been coiled in my gut since Ophelia came back into my life eases slightly.
But itâs short-lived. A crash from across the room has us both whipping our heads around. One of the workers just dropped a piece of equipment for Opheliaâs studio, the metal clanging loudly against the floor.
âCareful with that!â I call out, my voice sharp. âThat shitâs expensive.â
The worker mumbles an apology, his face reddening as he scrambles to pick up the fallen gear.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
âYou okay?â Mace asks, concerned.
I nod, but I can feel the tension creeping back in. âYeah. Thereâs just a lot riding on this, you know?â
Maceâs expression softens. âI know. But youâre trying. Just donât go back to running away.â
Heâs right. But itâs still not enough. How could it be?
âYeah, I wonât,â I say with a sigh.
I turn back to the blueprints, but my mind wanders. Rhys and Maddox are with Ophelia right now, probably making her laugh, touching her soft skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent. The thought twists my gut, both relief and jealousy churning inside me.
âYouâve got that look again,â Mace says, his voice low.
I grunt, not meeting his eyes. âWhat look?â
âThe one that says youâre thinking about her.â
My jaw clenches. Am I that transparent?
âJust wondering how sheâs settling in,â I lie.
Mace doesnât buy it for a second. âWith Rhys and Maddox, you mean?â
I nod, my eyes fixed on the plans before me, but not really seeing them. âYeah.â
âTheyâll take good care of her,â Mace says, his tone gentle. âYou know that.â
âI know,â I mutter.
And I do know.
I can picture it so clearly, the three of them cozied up at that cabin in the mountains.
The image is so vivid it hurts.
I close my eyes, trying to push it away, but it only grows stronger.
âTheyâll bond with her,â I say, the words coming out harsher than I intended. âIn a way I never got to. Because of me.â
âLeonâ¦â Mace starts.
I shake my head, cutting him off. âNo, itâs fine. Itâs good. She deserves that. To have people who care about her, whoâll be there for her.â
Unlike me.
I donât say it, though. I shrug it off instead. âAs long as I get to be near her, itâs enough.â
The words sound hollow even to my own ears.
But what else can I say?
What else can I do?