Page 21 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

“Good morning to you, too,” I say with a shake of my head.

Cal scoffs, stepping into my space. I can smell his sweat and remnants of his sandalwood cologne, and my mouth waters. His shorts are slung low on his hips, his chest glistening from his exertion.

“That’s not from the explosion last night. Tell me what the fuck happened.”

A frown tugs at my mouth, and I try to figure out what he means. “What are you talking about?”

“ This ,” he snaps as he rips up the hem of my sports bra until my breast is almost exposed.

The heat from his palm radiates over my skin, stirring a flutter in my core.

The yellowed bruise spanning from the bottom of my ribs to the top of my hip is on full display.

Another day or two, and it wouldn’t even show, but of course, with my luck, Cal would see it.

Callahan’s hand shakes with anger as his gaze snaps back to mine. “What is this ?”

My eyes roll of their own accord, and I bat his hand away. “It’s a bruise.” Steam practically shoots from Cal’s ears, and I amend, “Or at least, one that’s almost healed. As in, I’m fine.”

Callahan’s hands prop on his hips, and my eyes are drawn to the sexy v-cut of his abs. A dark trail of hair disappears into his shorts, and my eyes flick to the towel stuffed into the waistband, covering his cock. His jaw clenches, and I see the gears turning.

“What happened?” he repeats, fuse shortening to a dangerously low wick.

I ignore him, opting to use the treadmill he just vacated. Callahan follows on my heels and stands in front of the machine as I press and hold the speed to get it up to a jog.

“Sparring gone wrong.” My words are simple, and I do my best to ignore the man puffing out his chest in front of me. It brings me immense joy to dig under his skin.

“You spar? With who?” He looks around to Cohen and spots him lifting weights on a bench. “ Graves ?”

I can’t help it—a laugh bubbles free before I can stop it. Cal’s face snaps back to me, and his eyes immediately draw to my breasts. I press my lips into a thin line to fight the smile that wants to break out.

“No. My coach. I was distracted, and he clocked me. It’s fine.”

“That bruise is almost healed. It probably hurt like a bitch when it happened.” Cal’s voice remains steeped in anger but has taken a curious turn into concern.

“It did. But as you can see—I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you sparring with him anymore.”

My indignant scoff only brings him back around to anger. “You can’t tell me if I can spar or not.” I decide to ignore him for the rest of my jog.

But instead, Cal pulls the emergency stop cord. He holds it in his hands, and I groan, popping my feet on either side of the treadmill as it comes to a slow stop.

I give him a look that says seriously , but he ignores it .

“I didn’t say you couldn’t spar. Just not with him.”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I arch a brow. “Full offense, but you can’t tell me who I can and can’t see.”

Callahan crosses to the back of the treadmill and slides up behind me.

In the mirrored wall across from us, I watch as he puts his hands just outside of my own and lowers his face to whisper in my ear.

“I am your husband , and if I say another man isn’t allowed to put his hands on you, then I will cleave any hand that does.

” Shivers roll down my spine, and I meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Besides, if you want to spar, you have me.” He grins, but it’s almost more like he’s baring his teeth. You have me , he says. Something in my stomach sours.

When I speak, my words are quiet, and I try to cover the hurt behind glacial indifference. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” With that, I push out of his cage and leave the gym, resolving to take a walk around the perimeter instead. I could use the fresh air.

Cohen notes my departure, and I can see him groan as he tosses his weights back on the rack and lopes after me.

“I’m staying on property, don’t worry. Just going for a walk. You can finish your workout.”

He looks me over and must see that I need some space and time alone. Nodding, he backtracks to the weights. The blaring music cuts off when the door slams behind me.

For the next hour, I re-familiarize myself with the landscape of the Keane residence.

I’ve seen most of it from a distance, but it was good to know the gate toward the farthest east wall still exists.

Only now, it has a security camera directed toward anyone who’d use it.

Warmth spreads in my chest, and I test the handle.

It doesn’t budge—I hadn’t really expected it to—so I look around the brick wall for the clue.

After a moment, I see it. One brick is slightly darker than the rest, and I give it a tug.

It scrapes around, just barely loose. Pulling harder, I almost fall on my ass when it finally comes out.

A smile breaks out, and I shove my hand into the hole.

A key rests exactly as it did eleven years ago, but when I inspect it, it’s different. Silver instead of brass. I wonder when it changed.

It slots perfectly into the wrought-iron gate, and the handle turns effortlessly. The gate creaks open, and I slip out. It’s only minutes until I’m surely caught, so I look for the matching brick on the other side of the wall. Scanning the nearby wall, I locate it.

Cal had devised the system when we were in school.

A loose brick on either side so I could lock the gate behind me whether I was coming or going.

I’d have to wade through the bushes and use this forgotten gate to sneak in the middle of the night, but at least I got to see Cal. The camera is new, though.

Not wanting to push my luck, I return to the garden and lock the gate behind me, placing the key back in its hiding spot. I return to my room with an emotion I don’t want to name swirling in my chest.

All these years, and he left the door open for me. At any point, I could’ve returned.

I’m not sure what to do with that information.