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2026-08-21 15:48:44MIA
I couldn’t stop hearing it. That soft, breathy moan kept playing in my head long after I left the gym. Even while I cooked dinner, even while Ryan talked about some meeting, the sound sat right behind my ears. By the time we got into bed I felt restless and warm in a way I hadn’t felt in months. Ryan was already scrolling on his phone. I shifted closer, rested my hand on his chest, and slid it slowly downward. He didn’t look up. “What are you doing?” “I just… I missed you,” I said quietly. He finally glanced at me, then at my body under the thin tank top. His mouth twisted. “Not tonight, Mia. I’m tired. And honestly, looking at that stomach doesn’t exactly put me in the mood.” The words landed like a slap. I pulled my hand back. He rolled onto his side, facing away from me. “Go to sleep.” I stared at the ceiling for a long time, the moan still echoing, mixed now with his cruel voice. Sleep came late and shallow. The next afternoon Ryan dropped me at the gym the same way he always did—quick, distracted, already on a call. I walked inside with my bag clutched tight. My shoulders felt tight. Every time I blinked I saw Jake’s calm face and heard that quiet offer again: You’re allowed to look. Jake was waiting near the private room. He gave me a short nod. “Ready?” “Yeah.” We went in. He locked the door out of habit and started the session the way he always did—light warm-up, then rows. At first everything felt normal. His instructions were short and clear. “Elbows in.” “Don’t shrug.” “Again.” But after the third set his hands started correcting me more. When I leaned too far forward he stepped behind me and placed both palms on my waist, guiding me back. “Right here,” he said, voice low. “Feel the difference?” I nodded, but my skin felt too warm under his hands. He kept them there a second longer than necessary before letting go. Later, during squats, he stood close again. One hand settled on the middle of my back, the other lightly on my hip to keep me from tipping. “Chest up. That’s it.” I tried to focus on the movement, but every place he touched stayed hot. I forced my face to stay blank. I didn’t want him to notice how nervous I suddenly felt. We moved to the mat for core work. I was halfway through a set of controlled sit-ups when a knock sounded on the door. Sophie’s bright voice came through. “Jake? Can you come here for a second? I need your help with the pull-up bar.” Jake looked at me. “Give me a minute.” He opened the door. From where I sat I could see the hallway mirror clearly. Sophie stood there in a tight sports bra and tiny shorts, smiling up at him. Her stomach was flat. Her waist looked small enough for his hands to wrap around easily. “The bar feels loose,” she said. “Can you check?” Jake stepped out. He didn’t close the door all the way. I watched through the gap and the mirror as he tested the bar, then turned to Sophie. “Want me to spot you?” She nodded and reached up. Jake’s hands settled on her waist—firm, sure—and he lifted her like she weighed nothing. Sophie pulled her chin over the bar easily while he held her steady, his fingers spanning her narrow sides. They both laughed when she dropped back down. “See? Light as air,” he said, still smiling. Sophie grinned and gave his arm a playful push. “Only because you’re strong.” I looked down at my own body. Soft stomach, full hips, thick thighs that still felt heavy even after weeks of training. The difference sat in my chest like a stone. Jake could lift her without effort. The same hands that had just been on my waist had moved her like she was nothing. I stayed on the mat, pretending to stretch, until Jake came back inside and closed the door. He clapped his hands once, back to business. “All right. Two more sets.” I nodded and got into position, but my mind stayed out in the hallway. Every time his hands returned to correct me I felt the comparison sharper. His touch was the same, but now I couldn’t stop thinking how different my body must feel under those same palms. When the session ended I packed my bag faster than usual. Jake watched me for a second. “You okay today? You seem quiet.” “I’m fine,” I said. The words came out flat. “Just tired.” I walked out past the main floor. Sophie was still near the pull-up bar, talking to another girl. She looked effortless. I kept my eyes on the exit and didn’t look back. Outside, Ryan’s car was already waiting. I slid into the passenger seat without a word. He didn’t ask how it went. He just pulled into traffic and started talking about dinner plans with some clients. I stared out the window, the image of Jake’s hands on Sophie’s small waist stuck behind my eyes, and the soft moan from yesterday mixed with Ryan’s voice from last night until I couldn’t tell which one hurt more.
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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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