Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

I’ve dated my fair share, but nothing stuck. There was no punch to my heart. No desire for more with any of them.

Letting out a sigh, I take another sip.

Hopefully, the other half of my soul is nearby, or I’m fucked. It will suck if she’s on the other side of the world.

Climbing to my feet, I finish off the beer, and heading back inside, I drop the empty bottle in the trash before getting back to work.

Grabbing a bucket of soapy water, I go to the restroom to wipe the place clean, then I’ll take a shower and head over to the gym.

For my twenty-first birthday, my parents gave me fifty percent shares in the fitness center where I spend most of my free time.

Since my early teen years, I’ve loved the energy pulsing in the air whenever I went to the gym. After I returned from serving in the military for two years, Carl, the previous owner, gave me a job giving self-defense classes and private training sessions.

My phone starts to ring, and pulling the device out of my pocket, I check the screen.

“Hey, B,” I answer.

Even though Barb’s in her mid-forties, she’s one of my best friends. The place wouldn’t be the same without her and Carl.

“Chelsea asked if you could train her at two,” Barb explains her reason for the call on an annoyed sigh. “I’d love to tell her no, so just say the word.”

Letting out a chuckle, I walk toward my bedroom. “Nah, I was going to come in early anyway.”

I can practically hear Barb rolling her eyes before she mutters, “I don’t know how you put up with that woman’s unwanted attention.”

“She’s harmless.”

“Says you.”

“Be there soon.”

We end the call, and I can’t help but chuckle again while I strip out of my dirty clothes. It’s no secret Barb hates Chelsea. They’ve always been arch-enemies, and I’m not even sure they know why the feud started.

Chelsea, aka Mrs. Chapel, is a handful, but she’s a paying member, and she’s gotten her friends to join the gym as well, so I tolerate her.

After showering, I change into a pair of shorts and a hooded tank top. Slipping on my sneakers, I tuck my phone into my pocket and head out the back to where my truck’s parked. I pass by the old oak tree, the branches hanging heavy and low. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with this house.

Climbing behind the steering wheel, the engine roars to life, and I drive toward the gym. When I have extra time, I like to jog instead of taking the truck. Any kind of exercise helps me keep my mind clear, and if I’m honest, it’s become an addiction.

Parking in my usual spot next to Carl’s car, I climb out and head inside. Even though I’m the new owner, I kept Carl on as a manager so I have help, seeing as Dad has no interest in the gym.

I’m met with Barb’s scowling face where she’s sitting at the reception counter.

“That bad?” I ask, giving her a grin.

“Do me a favor and have that snake pull a muscle,” Barb mutters. She makes a disgruntled face, looking at her nails as she mimics Chelsea, “Oh, Barb, I wish you’d let me hook you up with my salon. Your hands would look so much better if you took care of your nails.” Barb lets out a huff of air. “I swear to God, one of these days, I’m going to bitch slap that woman.”

I step up to the counter and take hold of Barb’s hand that’s still hanging in the air. I press a kiss to her fingers. “Don’t let her get to you.”

Barb’s anger instantly fizzles away, but a second later, she scowls at me. “It’s because you treat all these snakes like queens that they keep coming back here.”

I slap a hand to my chest. “Now it’s my fault?”

She shakes her head, narrowing her eyes even more. “Yeah, you and that pretty face of yours.” She lets out another huff. “Why did you have to be such a catch?”

Wagging my eyebrows at her, I start to walk toward the stairs that lead up to the studios and cardio section. “So you think I’m a catch?” I tease Barb.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Get to work, handsome.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I take the stairs two at a time, my eyes glancing over the Olympic size pool. Chlorine and salt hang in the air while a fast beat pulses from the speakers.

When my gaze lands on Chelsea, I groan internally at the sight of her leopard print leggings and sports bra.

“Ethan,” she waves as if I’m not looking right at her.

I force a smile to my lips. “Ready to sweat?”

She places a hand on my bicep and squeezes, making my skin crawl beneath her touch. “I’m always ready to work up a sweat with you.”