Page 87 of Wild Card

But it makes no difference to me. I continue giving him praise at every turn, enjoying telling him what a fabulous job he’s doing. And the more I do, the more I realize I misread his reaction at first. It’s not dismissive. It’s…bashful.

It’s as though he doesn’t know how to accept a compliment—or doesn’t buy it. I figure if I keep giving them to him, one day he’ll start believing me.

At the end of the class, we move into Savasana, and much like Clyde always does, Bash falls asleep.

As the rest of the class filters out, he finally wakes. Not wanting to stare at him like the obsessed fangirl that I am, I turn my focus to saying goodbye to each student as they depart.

Bree, one of my favorite students, comes up to me. There’s a lightness in her body language that wasn’t there when she first began yoga with me. Back then, her energy was all turmoil, heartbreak, and sadness, but with time, she’s found some balance, and it makes my heart swell to see her in a better space.

From what I know, she’d been through a lot. She hasn’t been at her best, but she’s never stopped trying. And striving to be better is one of the best things a person can do.

As such, Bree is pretty badass in my books.

She gives me a shy smile as she hands me a small box wrapped with a pretty bow. “Happy early birthday, Gwen,” she says. “I know you’re not teaching tomorrow, so I wanted to give this to you today. It’s been a hard year for me, but your classes have been a bright spot. I hope you know what a big difference you make in people’s lives.”

My eyes well as I accept the gift, then wrap her lithe body in a tight hug. “Thank you, Bree” is all I manage, my voice thick with emotion.

When I step back, I squeeze her shoulder, eyes still misty, and smile.

“You enjoy your day off,” she says, giving my arm an affectionate rub. “And I’ll see you on the weekend.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” I say, watching the woman pad quietly from the room.

When I turn back, Bash is the only student who remains. He’s kneeling on the mat, hands clasped over his knees, brow furrowed.

When he sees that I’ve faced his direction, he lifts his chin, dark eyes dancing over mine in a way that warms me from head to toe. His expression is a mix of both confusion and determination.

“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday tomorrow.”

I wave him off. “Because it’s not a big deal.”

Birthdays have always left a sour taste in my mouth, and I don’t look forward to them. Usually, I take them as a day to reflect, to practice gratitude, and to think about all the things I would like to accomplish in the year to come. And what I rarely acknowledge is that my birthday usually makes me miss my parents.

Bash stands, shaking his head, his tone of voice slipping back to slightly surly. “Yeah, Gwen, itisa big deal.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BASH

Gwen spends the rest of the day at the studio teaching. Which is fine, because I spend the rest of the day rushing around planning a birthday party for her.

One that doesn’t end with her getting a fucking treadmill.

I stop in at the Bighorn Bistro and beg Tabitha to make a cake or cupcakes or anything that Gwen might like.

I call West and tell him to invite everyone to my place tomorrow evening.

Then I grab a bunch of groceries and head home, marveling over the fact that Gwen’s yoga class really did make me feel a bit better. A little less stiff. A little less stressed. A little more open.

When I get home, Clyde is sitting on the front porch, tucked into a shady corner. Thank fuck all of his clothes are on because I need to talk to him. I stride out the patio doors and fold myself down into the chair next to him.

“Back for more of Maya’s medicine?” he asks, staring out over the water with a grin on his face.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Not today.”

He grumbles like I’ve disappointed him.

“Did you know that Gwen’s birthday is tomorrow?”