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065

작가: Billie Patsy
last update 게시일: 2026-09-04 01:02:06

MIA

Clara’s question sat in the room after she asked it.

“Mia,” she had said. “How do you like being trained by Jake?”

Every face turned toward me. Ryan’s hand stayed on my waist, heavy, claiming. Jake leaned back in his chair like he had all night.

“It’s fine,” I said.

Clara waited. “Fine is a short answer.”

Ryan filled the space for me. “She needed structure. Jake gave it to her. That’s all.”

Jake’s mouth curved. “That’s one way to put it.”

Clara looked at him, then at me. “Does he push you?”
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  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   154

    MIA He was leaning against a black car across from the motel like he had all the time in the world. I saw him when I came back from the corner store with a bag of water and bread. Same posture he used at family dinners when he already knew the ending. No raised voice. No scene. Just Ryan, clean shirt, folder under one arm, watching the row of doors until he found my face. My first instinct was to keep walking. Past him, up the stairs, into the room where Jake was waiting with the lawyer’s number and a half-empty coffee. Ryan had a way of turning sidewalks into traps. I stopped anyway, because ignoring him had never made the next move smaller. “Mia.” “What do you want?” “Five minutes.” He nodded at the empty space beside his car. “I’m not here to drag you anywhere. I brought paper.” “You always bring paper.” “This one is different.” A truck rumbled past. Someone on the second floor opened a curtain and closed it again. The motel sign buzzed faintly in the daylight. I stopped a

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   153

    MIA The message was only one line. Meet me. Alone. Last time. No location at first. Then a pin dropped—a quiet café two buses from the motel, far enough from Clara’s clinic that none of her staff would walk in by accident. I sat on the edge of the motel bed with the phone in my hand and almost didn’t go. Jake was in the bathroom with the lawyer’s number on speaker, voice low, answering questions about the gym accounts and the family share. When he came out I showed him the screen. “You don’t have to,” he said. “If I don’t, she’ll invent the version where I ran.” He didn’t like it. He also didn’t stop me. I took one bus, then another, and walked the last block with my bag held tight against my side like someone might try to take it. Clara was already there. She looked wrecked and sharp at the same time. Dark under the eyes. Perfect coat. Hair done like she still had somewhere important to be. Her hands were wrapped around a cup she hadn’t touched. When she saw me she didn’t

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   152

    JAKE Morning light cut through the thin curtain. Mia was already awake. She had stopped shaking sometime before dawn, but she hadn’t moved far from my side. Neither of us had really slept. The motel room still smelled like old carpet and the takeout we hadn’t finished. Then the knock. Hard enough to rattle the chain. Mia’s eyes found mine. “Who knows we’re here?” “Nobody should.” I got up, cracked the door with the chain still on, and saw Sophie in a gym jacket, hair up, expression flat. “Open,” she said. “I’m not here to cause a scene.” I glanced back. Mia was sitting up now, blanket around her waist, face tight. I slid the chain off and stepped out onto the walkway, pulling the door mostly closed behind me so she wouldn’t have to take the whole thing in the face at once. The parking lot was gray. A vending machine hummed at the end of the row. “You’re hard to find,” Sophie said. “That was the idea.” She nodded at the door. “She’s awake?” “Yes.” “Then keep it short for

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   151

    MIA The room smelled like old carpet and bleach. Jake paid in cash at the counter while I stood behind him with my one bag and tried not to look at the clerk. The key was plastic. The door stuck. Inside there was a bed, a chair with a burn mark on the arm, a window that faced a brick wall, and a bathroom with a shower that ran either scalding or cold. “It’s one night,” he said. “Maybe two. Until I can move what’s left.” I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice yet. We didn’t unpack. There was nothing to unpack that mattered. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at a stain on the ceiling shaped like a hand. Jake checked the lock, the window, the bathroom, then came back and stood in front of me like he was waiting for me to break in a way he could fix. “You should sleep,” he said. “I can’t.” “Try.” “I keep hearing her.” He didn’t ask who. He already knew. His mother’s voice outside the hospital room. Clara’s voice in the clinic hallway. The same word, dressed in different mouths

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   150

    MIA Clara was already at the clinic when I got there. Not behind the desk. In the hallway that led to the small room I had been calling mine. Arms crossed. Eyes red in a way that wasn’t soft anymore. “Pack,” she said. I stopped with the keys still in my hand. “Clara—” “Don’t.” Her voice shook once, then went flat. “Don’t say my name like we’re still on the same side. Pack your things and get out.” The waiting room was empty. The morning patients hadn’t started yet. It felt like the whole building was holding its breath for this. “I can explain.” “You slept with him.” She laughed, short and ugly. “You slept with the man I was supposed to marry, in my clinic, in my house’s shadow, while I gave you a job and a bed. What is there to explain?” “It didn’t start here.” “I don’t care where it started.” She stepped closer. “I cared about you. I thought you were someone who’d been hurt. I thought I was helping. Turns out I was housing the reason my engagement was a joke.” My throat b

  • My Husband’s Brother, My Filthy Trainer   149

    MIA The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. I sat on a plastic chair with my hands locked together so no one would see them shake. Jake stood near the vending machine, still in the shirt he had worn to dinner, a dark smudge on the cuff where someone had grabbed him in the chaos. Ryan had gone with the paramedics like a dutiful son. Clara had disappeared into a phone call. The fluorescent lights hummed. A television in the corner played a muted weather report. A nurse came out first. “She’s stable,” she said. “Blood pressure was high. Stress event. The doctor will speak to immediate family only for now.” Ryan appeared in the doorway of the exam area as if the words immediate family had summoned him. He looked at Jake, then at me, and smiled with no warmth. “You two should go,” he said. “You’ve done enough for one night.” Jake didn’t move. “I’m her son.” “Not according to her.” Ryan’s voice stayed pleasant for the hallway. “She’s awake. She’s asking for me. N

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