Grace for Drowning

I'd been skeptical, but to his credit the exercise was definitely helping. Working myself to the bone at the gym took some of the edge off at night. I still felt that yearning on the back of my tongue when I walked in to my empty place — I hated how big it seemed now, how hollow — but once I showered and forced myself to go straight to bed, I usually found I could drift off.

Of course it had its downsides, too. When I dragged myself from my sheets each morning, my body complained loudly. My workouts were calling a lot of my long-dormant muscles into action, and they weren't shy about voicing their displeasure. The first morning I could barely walk, although it got progressively better each day and, soon enough, I actually found myself taking a kind of perverse pleasure in those aches and twinges. It was a healthy pain, almost like a badge of honor. It was a symbol of the fact that I was taking charge. I'd spent months marinating in self-loathing and helplessness, unable to muster the energy to fight back, but finally I felt a flicker of hope. I was doing something, being proactive. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

It had been a long time since I hadn't dreaded waking up. My usual mornings were a montage of aspirin, regret and self-pity, typically chased with vodka. But after a few days following Logan's regimen, I actually lay in my bed feeling vaguely human. I'm not going to lie and say everything was peachy, but I didn't loathe the idea of getting up either, which was a notable improvement.

But first I had to get through today. It was my first day off since going dry, which meant it would be the toughest one yet. If I could stay dry until tomorrow with no distractions, it would be a big milestone, but it wasn't going to be easy.

After a light breakfast of fruit and hand-made granola, I suited up and headed for the gym. It was reasonably early, but I knew I wouldn't be alone — sometimes it seemed like Logan lived in that place. Regardless of what time I made my daily visit he was there, working the bags or off in the corner lifting some absurdly laden barbell. I didn't understand how his body survived that sort of punishment. An hour a day was enough to nearly break me, and he was doing that many times over. He was mind bogglingly fit.

That morning when I walked in he was on the mats grappling with another man. They were both shirtless and coated in sweat. To the casual observer, it almost looked like they might be making love rather than fighting. Logan had tried to explain the intricacies of some of the close-quarter moves, but that stuff was well beyond me. It looked so much more complicated than simply hitting someone. Besides, the thought of having his body wrapped around mine like that set off all sorts of unwanted reactions in me, so I told him I just wanted to stick to the simple stuff.

His opponent was big, probably his equal in terms of pound-for-pound muscle, but Logan seemed to have the upper hand. He had the other man pinned to the floor, locked in some elaborate knot of limbs I couldn't even begin to decipher. With a groan, the other man tapped the mat twice and Logan released him.

"Fucking armbar again," the other man said.

"You leave it open, I'm going to take it," replied Logan with a shrug.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he said, hopping lightly to his feet and turning to face me. Somehow, no matter where he was looking, he always knew when I entered a room. I'd taken to actively sneaking in, just to see if I could get past his guard, but so far it hadn't worked. I was actually beginning to wonder if that joke about ninja training was really a joke at all.

"Morning." I tried my best to look nonplussed, but some of my annoyance must have leaked through because a grin lit his face.

Even after spending days here in his company, the sight of that chiseled body still took my breath away. I kept telling myself that it was simple biology, something I could acknowledge and then ignore, but that didn't stop the inevitable surge of guilt.

Tony shot me a glare, then sighed. "I'm going for a piss. Take two."

"I don't think he likes me very much," I said, when he was out of earshot.

"Don't take it personally. He doesn't like anyone very much. 'Tolerate' is about as good as it gets with Tony."

"Doesn't that frustrate you? He's your train

er. You spend eight hours a day with the guy."

"Exactly, and I want him to work me until I drop. If he liked me, he'd go easy. As it stands, he has no problem pushing me until I puke."

I shook my head, thinking back to our talk about Charlie. "You have a lot of messed up relationships."

He chuckled. "I guess I do." He clapped his hands. "Okay, well you may as well get started. Same as yesterday. Warm up, cardio, then hit the bags. You know the drill; five two minute rounds with one minute breaks. And after that I'm going to show you some kicks."

"No worries."

"If you need anything just give me a yell."

"I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

He returned to his sparring, while I headed for the cardio machines and did my best to ignore him. If only it were so easy. Despite my best intentions, I found my eyes constantly drifting back toward him. There was something so primal about watching Logan fight, like I was witnessing the epitome of the male form doing exactly what nature intended. I was both excited and a little horrified at the thought of seeing him unleash all that power against an actual opponent.

I spent forty minutes on my aerobic workout, switching between several machines to keep things fresh, before Logan beckoned me to the bags. For the most part, he left me alone to do my own thing, but at the end of every session he taught me something new that I could then use the following day. Those little interactions were a stronger test of my resolve than any actual exercise.

He hadn't touched me again since that first day when he'd corrected my stance. If anything, he seemed intent on keeping his distance, which was probably a good thing, since I was fairly sure I'd explode if he didn't, but the memory of it was still burned into my mind, brighter than the sun. Part of me longed for him to do it again, and another part wanted to run away whenever he was near. There had been nothing inappropriate about that contact, but it had felt that way nonetheless. Illicit and sensual. He'd said he wasn't interested, but I didn't know how that could be true. Was this really so one-sided? Was I simply imagining the tension between us? That thought made me feel like an idiot, getting all hot and bothered while he was just trying to do a good thing.

He ran me through a new combo, one that involved my legs as well as my hands. He seemed more downbeat than before, and soon enough I discovered why.

"No work today, right?" he asked, as I was getting ready to start.

"Nope."

His mouth turned down a fraction. "So what's your plan?"