The weight room had emptied out, but the thick, heavy tension hung in the air like the condensation on the mirrors. I lingered on purpose, going through the motions of stretching while the final few guys shuffled off toward the showers. Every movement sent a sharp protest through my torso, the deep bruises tightening with each breath, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not while Caleb was still in the room.
He was propped against the far wall by the squat rack, arms crossed over his chest, tracking me with a stormy, grey-eyed intensity that made my skin prickle. To anyone else, his expression was just the unreadable mask of a team captain. But I could see the subtle fractures—the tight flex of his jaw, the restless drum of his fingers against his bicep before he forced himself to still
