Bailey POVThe week after Lola's interrogation, I buried myself in work.Training sessions with Mark stayed professional. Clean. Disciplined. He followed every instruction, hit every mark, and kept his distance the way I asked him to. No flirting. No lingering touches. No whiskey-fueled kisses on leather couches.We were coach and athlete.Nothing more.At least, that's what it looked like from the outside.On Thursday afternoon, we were at the college track running through a speed endurance session. Mark was on his fifth rep, driving hard through the curve, his form sharper than I had ever seen it.He was improving. Fast. His times were dropping week after week, and the raw talent I always knew was there was finally being shaped into something dangerous.I clicked the stopwatch as he crossed the line."Twenty-two flat," I called out.He jogged back, barely winded."That's a new best," he said."Don't celebrate yet. You've got three more."He grinned and turned back toward the line.T
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