Stronger With You

Chapter 4

Self-defense class was held in the old rec center behind the gym.

The building looked like it had survived at least three decades of bad decisions and dodgeball trauma. The brick was faded, the windows slightly fogged, and the double doors groaned when Callie shoved them open.

Inside, the air wrapped around me thick with the smell of rubber mats, sweat, and something faintly medicinal. Icy Hot, maybe. The kind of scent that lived in locker rooms and bad memories.

“Fun,” I muttered under my breath.

Callie practically skipped through the door like we were entering a spa instead of a room full of potential bruises. “You’re going to love it,” she said, dropping her bag near the wall.

“I don’t even love normal PE,” I said, glancing around at people stretching awkwardly. “Why would I love optional punching?”

She grinned at me like she knew something I didn’t.

I hesitated for a second, the thought pressing forward before I could stop it.

“So…” I said slowly, crossing my arms. “You could’ve mentioned that your cousin owns the animal shelter.”

She glanced at me, then shrugged like I’d pointed out the weather forecast. “Oh. That.”

“That,” I repeated, raising a brow. “Feels like relevant information, Cal.”

Callie laughed softly, stretching her arms over her head. “Yeah, he’s kind of the black sheep of the family. More into charity than business. It drives his parents insane.”

I frowned. “But they let him run it.”

“They have other kids who live and breathe the hotel empire,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Nico’s their ‘good cause’ kid.

Checks the box. Makes them feel balanced.”

She said it lightly, but something about it tugged at me.

“He’s everything to them,” she added, quieter now. “Just… in a different way.”

I nodded slowly, even though the explanation didn’t sit quite right. Like there was more underneath it she wasn’t saying.

But Callie had already moved on, rolling her shoulders and shaking out her hands like the conversation was officially over.

So I let it go too.

Brad, the instructor, walked in then, and the entire room shifted.

He looked exactly how an instructor named Brad should look. Late thirties. Built like he bench-pressed refrigerators for fun. Calm eyes that missed nothing.

“If you hesitate, you lose,” he said, voice steady but loud enough to cut through the chatter. “Confidence is half the fight.”

Cool. Great. No pressure.

We lined up on the mats.

Callie caught on fast, mimicking every movement like she’d secretly been training for years.

I did not.

Not because I couldn’t.

Because every time I had to swing or shove or strike, something in my chest locked up.

Don’t make it worse.

Don’t make him mad.

Don’t fight back.

Like my body had been programmed wrong.

Brad stopped in front of me after my third sad excuse for a punch.

“You’re pulling your punches,” he said.

“I’m not,” I muttered, already embarrassed.

“You’re apologizing to the dummy.”

Callie snorted beside me.

“I do not apologize that much.”

They both stared at me.

“…Okay, maybe sometimes.”

Brad stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Think of something that makes you angry.”

I didn’t want to.

But my brain went there anyway.

Coffee soaking into my hoodie.

Wade’s voice. Wade pushing too far, too close, too often.

Blaire’s smile.

Nicolás laughing.

Something snapped loose in my chest.

“Now,” Brad said.

I hit........Hard.

The pad cracked back with a loud thud that echoed across the room. My hand stung, and for a second my whole arm buzzed.

My heart pounded.

Not fear.

Something hotter.

Brad nodded once. “There it is.”

Callie threw her hand up for a high-five like I’d just won a championship.

And for a second, I didn’t feel small.

The next few days passed quickly with Callie and I taking one more self defense class. Ryker started walking with us a couple days later like it was the most natural thing in the world.

No big announcement. No dramatic entrance.

He just showed up every morning near the dorm steps, hands in his pockets, saying hi like he’d always been part of the routine. We all sat in class together too. Weird, but not completely out of character of him. He had this laid-back, I can do whatever, be friends with whoever vibe.

This morning was no different. It was Tuesday, which is our busy day. English, then Sociology. Finally, our self defense class.

Usually I'm exhausted by the time I get to the shelter. I have the late shift tonight.

“Morning, ladies,” Ryker said, falling into step beside us.

I tensed automatically.

Guys usually meant expectations, Comments, and unwanted attention. Something I had to brace for.

But Ryker didn’t do any of that.

He just walked.

Blond hair messy like he’d lost a fight with his pillow, blue eyes bright and amused like everything in life was mildly entertaining.

“How do you two manage to look this functional before nine a.m.?” he asked.

“We don’t,” I said. “This is smoke, mirrors, and caffeine.”

He grinned. “Respect.”

He wasn’t like Nicolás.

Not sharp. Not intimidating. Not perfectly pressed and expensive-looking like he belonged somewhere I didn’t.

Ryker felt… easy.

Like the human version of sitting on the floor with pizza.

And somehow, without me noticing when it happened, my shoulders stopped living up around my ears when he was there.

Callie, on the other hand, got weird immediately.

Dropped her pen twice.

Laughed too hard at things that weren’t that funny.

Adjusted her bag strap like it had personally offended her.

I watched this like it was a nature documentary.

Fascinating behavior.

We crossed the quad and passed Nicolás and his usual group.

Blaire was draped over him like she belonged there, one manicured hand sliding up his chest while she leaned in and turned his head toward hers. She kissed him like it was a performance.

No warning. No hesitation.

A couple people nearby rolled their eyes.

Apparently, this was a thing.

Nicolás didn’t kiss her back.

He didn’t pull away either.

He just stood there, shoulders tight, jaw flexing once like he was tolerating it more than enjoying it.

Gross.

Then his gaze shifted.

He noticed us instantly.

More specifically—

he noticed Ryker walking between Callie and me.

Something changed in his posture. Subtle, but there. His shoulders squared just a little, chin lifting like he was recalculating the situation.

His eyes tracked Ryker first.

Then slid to me.

Then back to Ryker again.

Like he didn’t like the arrangement.

Blaire felt it too.

She glanced up at him, annoyed when he stopped paying attention to her entirely.

“What are you looking at?” she murmured, trying to pull his focus back.

He didn’t answer.

“What are you doing?” Nicolás asked Ryker flatly when we got closer.

Ryker blinked. “Walking?”

“With them.”

“Yeah,” Ryker said easily, nudging my shoulder with his lightly. “That’s how walking works.”

Nicolás’s eyes flicked to where Ryker had touched me.

His mouth tightened.

Not angry.

Just… irritated.

Like something about the way I stood next to Ryker bothered him in a way he didn’t want to explain.

Blaire shifted closer, fingers sliding up Nicolás’s arm again, but he barely reacted. His attention stayed on us, eyes sharp and assessing.

“Try not to corrupt him,” he said, voice dry.

I frowned and immediately sassed back, “I’m literally just existing.” Something about him just irked me.

“Exactly,” he muttered.

I rolled my eyes.

Ryker laughed and clapped Nicolás on the shoulder. “Relax, man. I can make my own bad decisions.”

Nicolás didn’t laugh.

His gaze stayed on me a beat too long.

Not mocking.

Not amused.

Just… watching.

Blaire huffed quietly beside him, clearly irritated that he wasn’t reacting to her at all. She shifted her weight, crossing her arms, eyes narrowing at me like I’d personally stolen something from her.

He noticed it and ignored it. It made me laugh on the inside, which only made her more annoyed.

We kept walking.

I could feel his eyes on my back, heavy and focused, like he was trying to figure out something he didn’t understand.

I didn’t turn around.

But I heard Ryker snort softly beside me. “You just annoyed him,” he whispered.

“Good,” I muttered.

Behind us, Nicolás’s voice didn’t follow.

Just silence.

And then—

A faint, almost invisible shift in the air. If I had turned around, I might’ve seen it. The smallest curve at the corner of his mouth.

Not a full smile. Just enough to suggest he wasn’t entirely unhappy that I’d talked back. Like he liked arguing with me.

Even if he’d never admit it.