Malcolm (Henchmen MC Next Generation 2)

"Fine," I said with a sigh as I watched him struggle a bit to get into the seat without assistance.

This had to end with him. We had to come to a civil agreement sooner or later.

But that wasn't right at that moment.

So I said nothing as he slammed the door, and wheeled himself up the steep ramp to physical therapy, leaving me standing there feeling like a bad caretaker.

Until I could talk to his doctor, though, I was between a rock and a hard place. He was a grown-ass man. And he had a valid prescription for the medicine to help him with his pain.

If I kept pushing at him, it might end up with him kicking me out which led to a whole other host of problems. For the both of us.

I'd need to be able to find and afford a place on my own. He would have no one to help him with his daily tasks. And, eventually, he would lose the house because there was no extra income.

At the moment, I felt like I'd done what I could do.

And I just had to let it rest there.

I found myself at the self-defense gym ten minutes later, feeling awkward as I moved into the large space that was dominated by an actual boxing ring in the center. Rooms for classes lined the far wall, and judging by the signs, there was a locker room toward the back.

Inside one of the rooms there was a class already going on, making me have a momentary second of panic that I was late before I saw the girls making their way out of the locker room in various forms of the same outfit—leggings and workout tops. All had their hair tied up. And there was one more girl there that I didn't recognize.

The new woman was similarly stunning with tanned skin and light brown hair with soft curls and a delicate face.

"Hey, Holly," Gracie greeted, waving at me. "This is Willa. Willa, Holly. We dragged her out for a long lunch so she could train with us too."

"How are your ribs feeling?" Hope asked.

"They're okay. I mean, I probably should still be careful, but they weren't broken or anything, just bruised. What happened to your lip?" I asked, seeing a fresh split since I'd seen her at the diner.

"Oh, this is nothing," she said, waving it off.

"Hope is a private investigator," Billie explained. "Getting a little roughed up here and there is part of her job description."

And Billie, from what I'd gathered during our talk at the diner, did a whole host of things. She did massage therapy and taught yoga and did meditation classes. Gracie's profession was unknown to me. But it seemed like Willa clearly had a normal sort of nine-to-five.

"We are going to start you off easy," Hope said, waving toward one of the open classes. "This is a beginners self-defense class. Though, ah, our cousin Ferryn can be a bit of a brute of a teacher," she added, wincing. "We planned on having Chris as an instructor, but she was busy."

"You're all related?" I asked as they led me toward the room.

"Well, not really," Gracie explained.

"More like a found family situation," Willa said. "All our parents are really close friends, so we were raised as cousins."

"That must have been nice."

"You have a small family?" Billie asked, seeming to pick up on the longing in my voice.

"It's just really my brother now. My mom is living abroad. My father hasn't had anything to do with me since I was a teenager. And we don't have anyone else."

"Well, you have us now," Gracie said with a warm smile.

"And we will initiate you into our friends group by kicking your ass," Hope added.

They did, too.

Though, clearly, they were going easy on me because I was new and because they didn't want to hurt me. But in those forty-five minutes, I learned a lot. And, what's more, I felt a lot more competent, more confident. Like if a situation arose that would make me need to defend myself, I might have a chance.

"So, are you going to come work out with us again?" Gracie asked as Willa brought us all back some green smoothie things from a small juice bar near the door.

"I would love that," I admitted.

For the first time in months, it felt like there was something in my life that was just for me, and me alone.

And for the first time in days, I hadn't thought about Shep's problems. Or Malcolm's sudden disappearance.

"So," Gracie said, voice a pitch higher than seemed normal. "You said you used to bake, right?"

"I do. I would love to get back into it."

"Have you ever considered doing it on the side?" Billie asked, her voice pitched strangely too, but I couldn't figure out why.