Page 33 of Set to Love

“That’s a heck of a career pivot.”

“It is, but that’s my mum for you. She always chooses the sensible path.”

“Not you?” I ask, finally finding a bit of rhythm in the balance.

“No. I go after what I want.” Max flashes me a cheeky grin that makes me wonder if he means his goals or me. “Now, on one leg. Show me what you’ve got.”

I swallow hard. “Just a warning, my right ankle and I aren’t on speaking terms. I won’t look like a flamingo. I’ll be more of a collapsing tent pole.”

Max lets out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good thing catching people is part of the job. No more stalling. Give it a go.”

I take a breath and try to lift my left foot. The second my right ankle takes the brunt of the weight, it gives out. My arms flail.

Before gravity can finish the job, Max’s hands lock around my waist. His grip is firm and sure, catching me before my foot can slip off the rubber dome.

My ankle is suddenly the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is the warmth of his hands and how close we’re standing.

“Don’t look at your feet, Katie.” His voice is so low it’s a vibration I feel more than I hear. “Look at me.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I slowly raise my chin.

“Good,” he murmurs.

The ball shifts again. Instinctively, my fingers grip his forearms, feeling the muscles beneath his skin tense. His thumbs press lightly against my hips. “That’s it. Trust me.”

For a moment, all I hear is the clanking of the weights and the rhythmic hum of the gym’s machines at work. Then he begins singing “Wait for Me” from Hadestown and everything else fades into the background.

The first notes vibrate softly through his chest and into his hands before I can even process what he’s doing. By the time I recognize the melody, I’ve stopped thinking about balancing altogether. All I can do is look at him.

Without realizing it, I stop fighting the wobble. My shoulders relax, my breathing slows, and with a patient, steady tempo, Max guides me back to a balanced position.

When he finishes the last line, neither of us lets go. I stay perched on the blue dome like one of the ballerinas from my childhood music box, my hands still resting on his forearms, before my brain finally catches up. Reluctantly, I slide my fingers away and step back onto solid ground.

“You’re cheating,” I tell him. My voice comes out sounding a little wrecked. “Nobody can stay off-balance when you’re doing that.”

Max grins. “It’s an old stage trick. If you can’t fix the floor, distract the dancer.”

He lets his hands linger on my waist a little longer than necessary before finally dropping them. The loss of the heat is immediate, leaving me feeling a little colder in the air-conditioned gym.

“How’s the ankle feeling?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

“I think it forgot it was supposed to be hurting,” I admit. “My legs feel heavy, like I’ve actually put my muscles to work.”

“Brilliant. That means you’ve got everything you need, Katie. We just have to find that feeling again.” We both head over to our water bottles. “It’s not just the ankle,” Max continues. “Your body’s been compensating for it. Let’s see if we can get everything moving together again.”

We’re supposed to be focusing on my ankle, but over the next thirty minutes, Max overhauls my entire workout. It’s mind-blowing. Especially what he manages to do with nothing more than a resistance band.

Up until now, my workouts have been a mix of Zoe’s rehab drills and whatever videos looked useful on SearchTube. Mostly because a personal trainer isn’t exactly in my budget.

“I hope I can remember all of this,” I say, wiping the sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are tingling, already beginning to ache.

“You will.” Max grins. “But if you don’t, you can always give me a ring.”

That simple sentence changes everything. I’m beginning to realize that the more time I spend with Max, the harder it is to believe two weeks is all we’re meant to have. And it’s scaring me.

“There’s just one more blind spot I noticed in your workout, Katie,” he says, pulling me back to the present. “Your core. It’s why you were wobbling so much on the Bosu ball earlier.”

“My core?” I repeat, a little defensive. “I can hold a plank for five minutes.”