Fran betas. Dani, Ariel, and Gemma preread. You're amazing.

Hammer Strike.

Heel palm.

Elbow.

Groin.

Edward belts out each basic self-defense move with a serious tone, his face neutral as I twist and bend and turn my body into the appropriate position to deliver each blow correctly and effectively.

Edward's directions from previous sessions over the last few weeks echo in my mind with each maneuver, and I make sure to plant my feet firmly to balance the appropriate weight.

It's taken me some time, but each move gets easier each day.

"It doesn't get easier," Edward had told me yesterday when I had finally gotten one of the harder moves I had been struggling with for a few days, "you just get stronger."

He's not wrong, but I'm not wrong, either. I can grow physically stronger with each passing day, but it's the mental game I've played in my head for so long that clouds me on certain days, making it hard for me to execute these moves with the precision Edward has drilled into me.

He can always sense when I'm carrying more than just the clothes on my back, whether it be when we're brought indoors because of the weather or when we're in the meadow shooting the entire town's pumpkin population.

I laugh through heavy breaths as Edward jokingly dashes to cover his groin with a pad when he orders me to pull off a successful kick to that part of his anatomy, both of us knowing that while I need the practice if I ever need to do it in real life, we definitely don't need to practice that here.

I need to protect that area of his at all costs.

Because one day, I'll be ready to experience that all for myself.

Reaching for my water, I chug until I'm out of breath, the sweat rolling down my face like the rain on the outside of the windows here in Edward's spare room. I wipe the droplets off my face with my shoulder, trying to remain focused on my training and not on…other things.

"Wanna stop?" Edward asks, not as out of breath or sweaty as I am since he's been blocking the blows instead of executing them. I see a thin sheen of sweat above his brow, his face pink from the heat of the room.

It's such a beautiful face, honestly. The angle of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the typical natural male eyelashes women would kill for. I could easily stare at him for hours and never tire of what I see — which is both fun and also unsettling.

I shake my head. "Soon."

Will I always think like this? Both excited to share in this new relationship with Edward but also worried I'm experiencing too much too fast? Are these anxieties just me trying to hold on to parts of myself? To protect myself?

I don't think I'm holding back from Edward. If anything, I feel us opening up to each other a little more each day, and it's as natural as breathing. I don't feel guarded or reluctant; I feel the opposite. Being with Edward has been nothing but liberating. He's the breath of fresh air I've been waiting for.

And it doesn't scare me.

And therein lies my problem: should I be concerned that I'm not concerned?

Is it strange I don't mind spending hours with him here or at my cabin, separating only for Edward to work here and there or at night after we've worn ourselves out with training?

It's what I think about as Edward and I go on with our session for another ten minutes. Maybe it's because all the years I've spent in Rhode Island were scheduled. Dictated. Rooted in fear, where every second mattered.

But with Edward, everything is different. He's hours of open road. I feel as if I have all the time in the world to stare at him and take him in for all he's worth, and it's such a change from what I'm used to. I think that's why I'm unsure of what I'm supposed to do.

For so long, I've let my head, the logical part of my body, tell me where to go and what to do.

But now, as Edward and I cook dinner side by side in his cabin, I realize I'm following my heart — and there are no rules or logistics to follow.

We just have one another to guide us.

And my head tells me to beware.

But my heart knows I'm safe.

See you tomorrow!