Page 116 of Ruin My Life

Damn it. He might actually be right.

He rolls his shoulders and stretches out his neck before jutting his chin in my direction. “Might help if you weren’t wearing a sweater.”

I glance down at the black athletic pullover I yanked on earlier. It clings to my body now, damp with sweat.

Tight-fittedwas Monroe’s only instruction when he told me to change clothes before we started. It immediately ruled out most of my T-shirts, and I don’t own any tank tops with necklines high enough to cover what Ineedcovered.

The scar still makes my skin crawl.

I tug the quarter zipper higher. Not because it’s slipping down from my neck—it’s just a habit that makes me feel safer.

“Guess we’re just confirming that I don’t usually go to the gym,” I say.

He doesn’t laugh, but his expression softens in that non-obviousMonroekind of way.

He offers me his hand again. And I take it.

But the second I’m upright, his knee sweeps into the back of mine. I stumble, barely catching myself on my hands before I face-plant.

A palm presses into my spine, pinning me to the mat.

He clicks his tongue—thefucking nerve.

“That was lesson five, Brie: always keep your guard up.”

“I don’t even remember lessons one through four,” I grumble, my voice muffled by the way my cheek squishes against the mat.

I try to twist my neck to glare at him, but I’m too sore to be intimidating.

Then, a voice from the door interrupts the lesson.

“Keep your thumbs out when you clench your fists. Aim for sensitive targets. Evade instead of blocking. And if you hit the ground, get back to your feet—fast.”

I glance over Monroe’s shoulder as Chavez steps into the gym, ticking off Monroe’s lessons on his fingers with a smug grin. “That still the order you teach them in?”

Monroe finally lets up, pulling his palm from my back as he rises to stand. He offers me his hand again.

This time, I don’t take it.

I stand on my own, every muscle screaming in protest—but I straighten my spine and hold my posture. Stand tall.

Or as tall as I can next to him.

Monroe gives a small nod of approval. “She learns faster than you did,” he says, glancing toward Chavez.

Chavez leans against the doorframe and barks out a laugh. “Maybe I just made you a better teacher,sabelotodo.”

I glance between the two of them, my mind catching the pieces as they click into place.

I turn back to Monroe. “You taught Chavez how to fight?”

He nods once, his tone drier now. “Kid was worse off than you when we took him in.”

“Funny,” Chavez drawls, crossing his arms. “And here I was coming to relieve you from your babysitting shift. State-mandated break and all.”

Babysitting?

I narrow my eyes. “Watch it, Chavez.”