Page 36 of Show Me

“Well done.”

Greg’s voice comes from my right. I turn to find him leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, watching Brent disappear down the hallway.

“He’s been creeping around too long,” Greg says. “You handled that exactly right.”

“I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“You set a boundary,” he corrects. “That matters, and you followed my rules of letting the trainers handle the floor responsibilities.”

I nod, unsure how to respond to his praise, given that our last several interactions have been strained.

Greg’s gaze sweeps the desk, then the entryway, then back to me. A beat longer than necessary. “Let me know if he gives you trouble.”

“I will.”

He gives a satisfied nod and heads back toward his office, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

The gym settles into its morning rhythm of check-ins, class questions, someone asking where the disinfectant wipes are like they haven’t been in the same spot since before I started.

When I reach for a pen, I notice a small cream envelope tucked between the flower stems. RUBY. My name is written across the front. My pulse stutters.

The door to Greg’s office is closed. He didn’t mention the flowers. Maybe they’re from a member. Maybe they’re a mistake.

Maybe…. I slide the envelope out. Inside is a small card.

You looked tired last week. Thought these might brighten your day.

No name. The same careful block lettering. My fingers go cold. Saturday, the chocolates. Monday, flowers. My throat tightens, half-expecting someone to be standing at the entrance watching me read it.

The door opens and closes with the usual morning traffic, nothing unusual, nothing out of place. But everything feels out of place.

I slide the card back into the envelope and tuck it beneath the vase, like hiding it will make it less real. It’s probably Brent. It must be Brent.

But he said, ‘not this time.’ If it’s not him, then who? Besides, I wouldn’t put it past him to lie about it. I don’t know why he would, but nothing else makes sense.

I straighten the stack of waivers and focus on the computer screen, forcing my breathing to even out.

The lilies’ scent drifts upward, sweet, heavy, almost suffocating—the door jingles. Someone laughs. A treadmill starts. Life continues like always.

But the flowers sit beside me, silent and watchful.

“Last week,” I repeat under my breath. Someone was watching me last week. And for the first time, the gym doesn’t feel entirely safe.

Chapter Eighteen

Xavier

As I push through the gym doors, the scent of rubber mats and citrus cleaner fills my nose. It’s better than the rotten garbage in the nearby dumpster.

I’ve got a job site waiting, unfinished payroll, and a crew that’ll lose their shit if I forget to order more safety glasses…. But here I am.

To work out. That’s it.

The bell jingles behind me, and I spot the flowers before I see her. They sit on the front desk like they don’t belong there, white lilies, red roses, and a shiny-ass ruby red ribbon tied too neatly for a place that smells like disinfectant and sweat.

Ruby is bent over the computer, a strand of hair falling loose near her cheek. She tucks it back, fingers lingering like she’s concentrating so hard she’s blocked everyone else out.

When I stop in front of the desk, she blinks up at me.