Page 10

OFF-BALANCE

LUKE

Leaning against the front desk, I watch Stella pack up her gear. I can’t believe that, after three weeks of assuming she was long gone, she’s here.

In my gym.

The past hour or so has been the best hour I’ve had since our night together, and she was sassy and a tad bossy for most of it.

Right now, though? Right now she’s ignoring me and very professionally avoiding my gaze. Which is adorable.

I know I’ve only got mere minutes left with her.

“Admit it, you missed me,” I say.

She doesn’t look up. "I don’t miss people I sleep with once and then don’t think about again."

Grinning, I clutch my chest. "Ouch. Brutal. But I’m calling your bluff—you’ve definitely thought about me."

Snapping her camera bag shut, she rolls her eyes. "If it helps you sleep at night, sure."

"It does, actually. Right after I replay your little exit strategy in my head." I smirk, knowing I’m playing with fire.

Finally looking up, she says, "You're impossible."

I shrug. "And yet… here you are."

I hear a dramatic sigh and realize that we’ve had an audience. Ruth—the woman who came in with Stella’s niece—watches us unabashedly. I swear, if the woman had popcorn, she’d look like she was watching her new favorite soap opera.

Stella doesn’t look embarrassed that our conversation was just overheard by this woman she is obliviously familiar with. She just looks annoyed.

“What, Ruth?” she asks.

“He’s a climber. You’re a runner. Maybe you just need someone who doesn’t let go,” she tells her matter-of-factly.

And there’s that glare she’s perfected, only it’s directed at someone other than me.

“Are you serious right now?”

Ruth takes a causal sip of whatever is in her cup, completely unbothered.

“Just making an observation, dear,” she says innocently.

Interesting.

Lilly, whose been completely focused on the informational video she needed to watch before the class starts, is suddenly beside me.

“Mommy said something about Aunt Stelly needing to plant something,” she chimes in curiously.

All three adults look down at her—and damn, she’s cute.

Frowning now, she adds, “I don’t think she meant flowers, causes she’s bad with those.”

Grinning at the tiny human, I look up at Stella, and if she could melt into the floor right now, I think she would.

“Interesting choice of wording, huh?” I chuckle. I’m guessing her sister was talking about roots. This whole conversation with Ruth and Lilly has been so enlightening.

“We’re done here,” Stella says, slinging her camera bag over her shoulder. She leans down and hugs Lilly, telling her to have fun climbing.

She tells Ruth goodbye and starts to make her exit. I know I have a class to teach, its starts in a few minutes, but I’m determined to keep her in my orbit. I’m not ready for this to be our last conversation, so I follow her toward the exit.

“You know, you can’t pretend you don’t know where you can find me now. You know where I live and where I work.”

“Noted,” she replies flatly.

“Plus, I think your niece will make a fantastic climber. Guess that means we’ll be seeing more of each other,” I add.

She exhales, then says, “Not really. Anyway, Finn Cooper, the writer of this piece, will be in touch for the full interview.”

“Cool. But you still have to send me the final shots, right?”

She pauses, her hand on the door, narrowing her gaze on me.

“I could just send them to your marketing manager.”

But I’ve got her. My confidence knows no bounds with this woman. “You could. But you won’t.”

She stares at me for a moment, then lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But I’m only sending them because it’s my job.”

"Of course. Strictly business." I fight back a smirk and try to be professional.

Rolling her eyes, she pushes the door open and steps out into the late afternoon.

I watch her go, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve achieved something great… because she’s not running quite as fast this time.

The sun has dipped low by the time I leave the gym, but I’m not ready to head home. Not with my mind still full of Stella. Or maybe it’s just full, period. The photo shoot, the surprise reunion, the tiny climber class, grandma meddling—it was a lot today. I need food. And a reset.

The Trading Post is already buzzing when I walk in, warm light spilling through the windows, the hum of conversation and low 90s rock wrapping around me like a familiar hoodie.

It feels good here. Familiar, but new in the best way.

Indianapolis isn’t Chicago, but lately, I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing.

There is something quieter about Indy. Less noise, less pressure to keep up with everyone else’s grind.

Maybe it is the space, or the way strangers actually make eye contact when they pass you on the street.

I’d come here for the business, for the next phase of Squeaky Bum, but somehow, I’d found a rhythm that felt…

solid. Like maybe I could belong here, too.

Alex is behind the bar, already watching me with that all-knowing, shit-eating grin.

I sent him and Wade a quick message this afternoon about seeing Stella at the gym, so I’m not surprised he’s ready to pounce on the topic.

He shakes his head and slides a glass of house whiskey across the bar the moment I sit down.

“Alright, I knew you weren’t a one-night stand guy, so you finally have a proper one and this happens?”

I groan and lean against the barstool, shrugging like it’s nothing.

“Come on. A one-night stand who shows up three weeks later…in your gym? In your space? It’s like fate is trying to punk you.”

I take a slow sip of the drink, letting the heat settle before answering. “It’s not a big deal.” Lies. It is a big fucking deal.

He raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second.

“Dude. I’ve known you for more than a decade. You don’t do casual. You date. You plan. You build entire futures in your head by the second date.”

I shoot him a look, but it doesn’t land. He’s not wrong. I’ve had some hookups here and there, even a one-night stand a couple years back. After experiencing both relationships and hookups, I’ve realized that I’m clearly a relationship guy.

Casual never really worked for me. I don’t like surface-level connections. I’ve always preferred to know the person I’m with. What makes them tick. What they’re afraid of. What makes them laugh so hard they snort.

And maybe that’s what threw me. With Stella… I didn’t get the time to do any of that. One night, and she was gone. No awkwardness, no follow-up, just… gone. Like I imagined it.

Until today.

“I wasn’t expecting to see her again, that’s all,” I tell him honestly.

“And yet, here you are. Spiraling.”

I let the insult slide. Mostly because I’m not sure he’s wrong. I wouldn’t call it a spiral, per se, but it’s something.

Shaking my head, I tell him about seeing her again. “She didn’t seem rattled. Cool as ever. Camera in hand, all business. Like she’d never had her hands in my hair or moaned my name.”

Alex whistles low and wipes down the bar.

“She’s a runner, huh?”

I smirk, remembering Ruth’s comment. “Apparently.”

“And you, my friend, are already planning how to climb right after her.”

I don’t say anything. Just take another sip of whiskey and stare into the glass. Because the truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing yet. But if she’s running, part of me wants to see what happens if I don’t let go.

Not yet.

I order a smash burger and fries—my favorite items on the menu—and settle in for a dinner at the bar.

There’s a large TV behind the bar that’s playing highlights from the Renegades team over the weekend.

The team has a new quarterback, Cash Winters, and I really like the guy.

Rock climbing might be my passion, but football was my first love.

I played while growing up, and I was on track for a D1 scholarship, but at the end of my junior year, I experienced a nasty ACL tear.

Surgery and a long road to recovery caused my college offers to disappear almost overnight.

That’s when Ray stepped in and helped me focus on a new path while I rehabbed.

While that life as a college football star and possible pro baller crosses my mind sometimes, it’s not something I dwell on. I still love the game and enjoy following the local teams. I’m going to have to get to a home game this season. Or next. Who knows if I’ll have the time.

Alex keeps busy while I eat, stopping by to chat every so often. He’s got a great staff and doesn’t need to work behind the bar, but he likes to a few times a week. He says it keeps him humble.

Finishing my food, I push the plate away and drink some of the water he dropped by with my food.

Alex wipes down the bar in a lazy figure-eight, his expression shifting just enough for me to know he’s got something to say and isn’t sure if he’s going to say it. We’re moving into territory he’s been waiting to poke at.

He clears his throat, like he doesn’t already have my attention. "Look, just... be careful."

I know what’s he talking about. I know he’s not done talking about this fate shit. I raise a brow, half-amused. “What? You think I’m gonna fall for her?”

"I think you don’t know how not to. And the last time you got wrapped up in someone, you were this close to putting a ring on her finger.” Alex pins me with a look of warning.

My jaw tightens before I can stop it. That name’s been dancing at the edge of this conversation since I walked in, and now he’s let it fall.

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

He sets the glass down and leans on the bar with both elbows. No grin now. No smugness. Just the quiet concern of someone who’s watched me go all-in once before and come out scraped raw.

“Claire still left., whether you were ready or not. And word is, she’s coming back to the Midwest.”

I blink once. That old ache stirs in my ribs like a bruise I thought had faded.

“I hadn’t heard that,” I say mostly to myself.

“Didn’t think you had. Figured you'd want to know before she shows up at your front door—or your gym—with a thousand ideas and that look that used to get you to say yes to anything.”

I exhale slowly and rub a hand over my face. I don’t want to think about Claire. I don’t want to remember how close we came to building something permanent. Or how easily she walked away when I hesitated too long.

She said I made her wait. That I was so caught up in growing the business that she got tired of being second. She wasn’t wrong. But she also never said she was unhappy—not until she already had one foot out the door.

Stella? She walked away like it meant nothing.

Claire left with a plan.

And somehow, that cuts deeper.

“Claire’s the past. That door’s closed,” I tell him.

But as I say it, I can already feel how that might not matter. Not if she decides she wants to reopen it.

Stella is nothing like Claire. She’s unpredictable, grounded in chaos, and fiercely independent. She doesn’t ask for anything. Doesn’t even stay for coffee unless bribed. But she made me laugh. She surprised me. And today, seeing her again, watching her behind that lens…

It knocked me off-balance.

And now she’s here—in my gym.

My orbit.

And I can’t help but wonder what that means.

I change the subject, but the thick tension lingers between us like humidity that won’t break.

As the crowd starts to thin and the music dips low, I lean back on my stool, nursing the last of my drink. My thoughts drift to two women.

Two very different women.

One I built something real with—years, memories, plans. And in the end, it crumbled with a single conversation.

The other I barely know. She left after one night, but even so, she’s still in my head and under my skin.

And I’m starting to wonder which one of them has the potential to wreck me more.