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2026-08-21 14:46:16MIA
I got to the gym twenty minutes early on purpose. Ryan had dropped me off again with another short comment about “not wasting Jake’s time,” then driven away. The parking lot was still half empty. I sat in the passenger seat of my own thoughts for a full minute before forcing myself out of the car. Inside, the main floor already had a few regulars. Three women near the squat racks glanced over when the door closed behind me. One of them—tall, dark ponytail, perfect posture—let her eyes travel from my face down to my soft stomach and back up again. She didn’t smile. Neither did the other two. They just turned back to their weights like I wasn’t worth the effort of a second look. My face burned. I kept my head down and walked straight toward the hallway that led to the private room. Jake had given me the code last session so I could wait inside if I arrived first. I punched it in, slipped through the door, and shut it quietly behind me. The room smelled the same—clean mats and faint metal. I set my bag down and tried to stretch the way he had shown me. Arms over my head, side bends, slow rolls of my shoulders. My balance still felt off. I stepped onto the mat to try a simple lunge and my foot slid. The floor came up fast. Strong arms caught me from behind before I hit the ground. One of Jake’s hands locked around my upper arm. The other landed high across my ribs, the edge of his forearm pressing against the soft underside of my breast through the thin sports bra. We both froze. His chest was solid against my back. I could feel the heat of his skin and the steady rise of his breathing. For a second neither of us moved. My heart slammed so hard I was sure he could feel it. I twisted away fast, cheeks on fire. “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I lost my balance.” Jake stepped back at once. His face stayed calm, almost blank, like nothing unusual had happened. “It’s fine,” he said. “Happens. You okay?” I nodded too quickly, arms crossed over my chest even though the contact had already ended. “Yeah. Just clumsy.” He didn’t comment on where his hand had landed. He simply walked over to the cable machine and started setting the weight. “We’ll start with rows today,” he said, voice even. “Same form as last time. I’ll watch from the side.” I followed his instructions because I didn’t know what else to do. Every time I pulled the handle I felt the ghost of his arm still pressed against me. He corrected my elbows once, fingers light on my upper arm, nothing more. The rest of the session stayed professional. Squats with the light bar. Some core work on the mat. He spoke only when he needed to, short and clear. “Chin up.” “Breathe out on the effort.” “Good. Again.” I kept waiting for him to say something about the catch, but he never did. By the time we finished the last set my shirt was damp and my legs felt shaky for reasons that had nothing to do with the weights. Jake handed me a towel. “Sit. Cool down.” I dropped onto the bench along the wall. He sat on the other end, close enough that our knees almost touched but not quite. He pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolled for a second, then set it face-down on his thigh. A soft sound leaked out before the screen locked. It was quiet, but clear enough—a woman’s low, breathy moan, the kind that made the air in the room feel suddenly smaller. Jake’s thumb moved fast. The sound cut off. He didn’t look embarrassed. He just locked the phone and rested his hands on his knees. I stared at the floor, pulse loud in my ears. After a moment he spoke, voice low enough that it stayed between us. “You’re allowed to look,” he said. “Or ask questions. I’m not going to judge you.” I kept my eyes on the mat. My throat felt tight. “I wasn’t—” “I know.” He didn’t push. He simply sat there, calm, waiting to see if I would say anything else. The silence stretched. I could still hear that soft moan in my head. My skin felt too warm. I wanted to stand up and leave, but my legs wouldn’t move. Jake glanced at the clock on the wall. “Ryan will be here in ten minutes. You did good today. Form’s getting cleaner.” I nodded, still not trusting my voice. He stood first, collected the small towel he’d used, and opened the door a few inches so the hallway air could come in. The ordinary sounds of the gym returned—weights clanking, someone laughing in the distance. The private room felt less closed-off, but the tension didn’t leave with the door.
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My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 136
MIA Clara’s heels hit the tile before I could move. She pushed the glass door open with her shoulder, bag on one arm, phone still in her hand. The clinic was half-dark. Jake was still at the desk. I was still behind it. For a second nobody spoke. Clara looked at him. Then at me. Then at the empty waiting room. “You’re both still here,” she said. “Closing up,” I said too fast. “Charts. The system glitched on the last two.” Jake didn’t help. He just stood there with his hands off the counter now, like that fixed anything. Clara set her bag down on a chair. “I thought you left an hour ago.” “I did,” Jake said. “Came back.” “For what?” I answered before he could. “Insurance question. One of the afternoon patients. I texted him because I couldn’t reach the file.” It was thin. Clara’s eyes said she knew it was thin. She didn’t call it a lie. She only smiled the careful smile she used with difficult patients. “Well. You’re both upright. That’s something.” She glanced at the dark
My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 135
MIA The clinic lights were already dimmed, only the hallway lamp glowing soft and low. I’d filed the last patient chart, locked the medicine cabinet exactly the way Clara had shown me, straightened the magazines on the coffee table until they were perfectly aligned. The waiting room was empty. The only sound left was the low hum of the staff fridge down the hall. My shift had ended an hour ago. My room was twenty steps away — a bed, a door that locked, silence. I could have gone there. Instead I sat at the front desk, clicking through empty screens, closing windows I’d already closed, because busy hands felt safer than lying awake in that quiet room. The bell above the door chimed. I looked up. My heart gave a sharp, painful lurch. Jake. He didn’t step all the way inside. Didn’t glance down the hall toward where I slept. He stopped right at the counter, hands in his jacket pockets, like he was just another patient who’d arrived after hours. His hair was damp at the edges,
My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 134
MIA The front desk phone rang once and cut off before I could reach it, the sound sharp and too loud in the quiet space. I sat back, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and breathed slow through the tightness in my chest. I was still learning the system — appointment codes, insurance fields, which boxes were mandatory and which ones could wait. Clara had walked me through it twice, patient and steady, but my hands moved slower than the cursor, my brain stalling on every new screen. The small room down the hall was mine, though — clean, bright, no one breathing down my neck — and for a few hours that morning, I’d let myself believe this might actually work. That I could build something small and safe. Then the bell above the door chimed. A woman stepped up to the counter. I looked up. My blood turned cold. Lena. She stood there like she owned the place — dress soft and tailored, falling exactly right over her stomach, hair sleek and perfect, that same smile landing the second
My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 133
JAKE I parked out front, cut the engine, and sat there a minute, hands resting loose on the wheel. Tuesday. I’d said I would come. Mia had told me to stay away, and I’d heard her — loud and clear, sharp and final — but hearing her wasn’t the same as letting this disappear entirely. It wasn’t the same as pretending I didn’t care whether she was safe or not. Clara opened the door before I knocked, bright and ready, like she’d been watching from the window. “You’re on time,” she said, stepping back to let me in. “I like that.” “I said I would be.” The spare room down the hall had been cleared out completely — furniture pushed to the walls, a fresh yoga mat laid out in the center, two sets of light weights stacked neat beside it, even a full-length mirror dragged in from somewhere else. Mia stood by the window, back mostly to the door, wearing clothes that weren’t hers — Clara’s shorts, a loose soft shirt that still didn’t quite fit right — holding herself small, arms tucked in, shou
My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 132
MIA Clara met me at the side door just after dusk, key in one hand, manila folder in the other, like she’d been waiting right there for me. She didn’t smile too wide, didn’t ask where I’d come from or whose car I’d gotten out of — just stepped back and nodded toward the hallway. “Front desk is straight through there,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Your room’s back here — quiet, away from the patients. It’s small. Bathroom’s shared with the staff hall at the end. Don’t use the one by the exam rooms, okay? That’s for patients only.” “That’s fine.” I shifted the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. “I don’t mind walking.” She didn’t ask about the bag. Didn’t ask why I’d left Jake’s place or how long I’d been sleeping on his couch. Didn’t mention the quiet goodbye or the way I’d looked away when we said see you Tuesday. She just unlocked a narrow door tucked behind a stack of supply boxes and stepped aside so I could go in first. The room was exactly what she’d said — smal
My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer 131
MIA Clara was still smiling when I nodded, bright and easy, completely unaware the air had just gone thin between us. “Tuesday works,” I said, keeping my voice level, like nothing had just broken. Jake didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Didn’t ask me to take it back. He sat with his hands resting heavy on his knees and let Clara scribble the time down in her little notebook like the room hadn’t just split clean in two. Ice melted slow in the glasses on the table, water beading down the sides. I lifted mine and drank, cold and tasteless, just so I’d have something to do with my hands, something to hide behind. “Late afternoon,” Clara said, pen hovering over the page. “Right after the clinic closes. I’ll text you both the address again, just in case — better safe than lost.” “I have it,” Jake said. Short. Final. “Good.” She turned to me then, warm and open. “And you can come straight from wherever you’re staying, Mia. No need to rush over or anything. We’ll just take it easy.” “Okay.” Th
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