Page 55 of Cross Checked
Before my brain disappeared completely into the gutter, I changed into workout clothes and headed downstairs toward the private gym behind the garage.
The space smelled like rubber flooring, metal, sweat, and pre-workout powder. Music vibrated softly through mounted speakers while neon Fury signs glowed against matte-black walls beneath exposed industrial lighting. I was halfway through reracking weights when the door opened behind me.
And there she was. Tiny. Pretty. Catastrophic to my mental stability.
Bliss stepped inside wearing black compression leggings and a tiny gray sports bra with her oversized hoodie tied loosely around her waist like she’d already gotten too warm walking over here. Blonde hair sat piled into a messy knot on top of her head while her fitness monitor blinked softly beneath the lights. Her warm brown eyes found mine immediately, glossy lips curving slightly when she caught me staring too long, and something low and possessive tightened in my chest so fast it almost pissed me off.
She looked soft and bright and entirely too tempting standing there in Nikes and attitude, and somehow my brain had already decided Pip belonged specifically to me.
She looked around slowly. “This place is nicer than my entire gym, and I pay an offensive amount of money for that membership.”
“It should be. My father basically funded half the athletic department.”
She snorted softly while pushing loose hair behind one ear. “So, subtle charity.”
I laughed quietly, watching her walk toward the treadmill while the noise from upstairs muffled behind the gym door. “You ready?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good.” I smiled. “Then we’re starting.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the tiny smile tugging at her mouth before she stepped onto the treadmill anyway.
Music played softly while she walked beside me, talking about some disaster at The Sin Bin involving a fake ID and a guy who apparently tried fist-fighting a jukebox after getting cut off. I listened to her more than I lifted, probably making myself obvious, but I couldn’t seem to stop. At one point she laughed hard enough she had to grab the treadmill handles.
That was when I noticed it, my stomach tightened instantly.
Finger-shaped bruising wrapped faintly around the inside of her wrist like somebody had grabbed her hard enough to leave marks behind. Cold tension buried itself low in my chest as Bliss kept talking, completely unaware my entire focus had locked onto her arm.
It was not accidental bruising. Finger marks were not random. It was a grip mark, and the certainty of that moved through me cold enough to kill every other thought in the room.
Bliss kept talking like nothing had happened, like I wasn’t staring at the faint purple shadows circling the inside of her wrist in a shape no treadmill, doorframe, or clumsy fall could explain. She laughed at her own story about another drunk patron at The Sin Bin, cheeks flushed from the treadmill, ponytail slipping loose at the crown of her head, and for one brutal second the contrast made me feel sick. All that brightness. All that motion. That warm, impossible mouth still trying to turn the world funny while someone had put his hands on her hard enough to leave evidence behind.
“You okay?” she asked suddenly, catching the way I’d gone quiet.
My eyes dropped back to the bruise before I could stop them. “What happened to your wrist?”
Everything about her changed, but not loudly. Bliss didn’t fall apart where people could see it. Her smile only flickered for half a second before settling back into place, but the warmth disappeared from her face like someone had shut off a light behind her eyes. Her shoulders tightened. Her fingers moved to the treadmill controls, tapping once, twice, like she needed something to occupy her hands before they betrayed her.
Watching it happen felt like seeing a door close in real time.
She looked down too quickly. “Oh.” A soft, nervous laugh slipped out. “Nothing. It’s from self-defense class.”
I stayed quiet, not because I believed her, but because I wanted to hear the lie all the way through.
“You’re taking self-defense?” I asked carefully.
“Yeah.” She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear too fast. “It’s technically part of physical education this trimester.”
Her voice had gone lighter than normal, and I hated how easily I noticed the difference now.
“What happened?” I asked again.
“It’s probably just bruising from training.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time. “Nothing big.”
It was a lie. Not malicious. Not careless. Practiced. Somehow, that made it worse, because people only learned to lie that smoothly when they’d needed to survive the truth before.
I could have pushed harder. Every instinct in me wanted to. I wanted to step closer, turn her wrist gently in my hand, ask who, and keep asking until the name came out. But the guarded look in her eyes warned me immediately that moving too fast would make her retreat completely, and I was learning Bliss Bennett in pieces now. She handled fear by burying it beneath charm and humor until nobody looked close enough to notice anymore.
