CHAPTER 38

DAY 78

Monday

This morning was my final physical fitness assessment. I completed 49 push-ups and 80 sit-ups in two minutes and ran two miles in 15 minutes and 18 seconds. I also weighed in at 128 pounds. I was in the best shape of my life.

"Tell me again what the qualification are to become an Army Ranger."

"Thinking about joining?"

"Nope, but I like knowing how I measure up."

"The minimum requirements are 49 push-ups, 59 sit-ups, and running two miles in under 15 minutes and 12 seconds."

"Awe, man. I missed it by 6 seconds on the run."

He was smiling, but his eyes held a little pity for me. "Those are the minimum qualifications. If you can't do 80 push-ups and pull-ups and run two miles in under 13 minutes, you'll get left behind by the rest of the soldiers."

It was a little disheartening, but being an Army Ranger hadn't been my goal. "I don't think I'll ever have the upper body strength to do 31 more push-ups or shave 2 minutes and 18 seconds off my run time."

While I moved on to my lower body workout, Finn put weights on a barbell. He really didn't need to be down here with me anymore. He could tell me the number of sets he wanted me to complete and leave me to it, but he never wandered far. Switching legs to start another set of lunges, I watched him bench press 90 pounds. I was mesmerized by his muscles popping and straining and the sweat beads running down his bare chest. He was in what he called his warmup phase, which meant he would add a lot more weight as the sets went on. He was around 6'4, and I knew he weighed 223 pounds because he'd gotten on the scale after my weigh-in. Lumberjack, indeed.

As I stepped forward for another lunge, he got up and added a second 45-pound weight on each side. He ran through three sets of ten before adding another 45 pounds to each side, totaling 270 pounds. I stopped pretending to lunge and watched with my mouth hanging open.

He was on his second set when he slowed down. He grunted as he struggled to continue, and his muscles shook. I worried he couldn't push the weights off his chest. What if they fell on him, crushing his lungs? There wasn't much I could do to help. My stomach dropped, and I got angry.

I quietly waited for unbearable seconds to not take his focus away. Once the bar was safely resting in its slot, I crossed the room to stand over him with my fists on my hips. What little mothering instincts I possessed had kicked in full force. This man lived alone, miles from a neighbor. Anything could happen to him, and no one would know.

"Even I know that what you're doing is dangerous." He spared me a moment to quirk his eyebrow in question but otherwise didn't move. "Don't give me that look. You live alone. What would happen if the weights fell on your chest and you couldn't lift them off? Who would save you?" I looked around and found Maggie resting underneath a barstool. "What would happen to Maggie if you died? She'd starve to death… that's what would happen. How could you be so careless?" I sounded like my mother. I might be treading into areas that were none of my business, but dammit, I cared about him and had a valid point. He had no one but Oz, who only dropped by occasionally. I felt a burning in my chest. How could I leave him if he wasn't going to be careful?

He calmly sat up and waited for me to finish ranting. "That's exactly why I don't put the collars on the barbell when I bench press." He pointed to the lack of clips at the ends of the bar. "If I get myself in a bind and can't make the final lift, I can tilt my body to the side, and the weights will fall off. I also always attach these safety arms to the power rack so I can shimmy out from under it if I can't lift the weights off me. It's not foolproof, and you're right to believe it's dangerous, but what choice do I have?"

He'd given it some thought, which wasn't surprising and made me feel better. So many things were suddenly clear to me. I cared more deeply for him than I should, considering I was leaving in five days.

Five days.

I didn't want it to be true. I wanted more time with him. I spun around and left. If he wanted to find me, he knew where I'd be. My thinking rock.

DAY 81

Thursday

FINN POV

Stephanie had trained hard the entire time she'd been here and learned more than I'd ever expected, but I couldn't shake the nagging doubt that I hadn't taught her enough. The past week, I crammed last-minute techniques and advice into her training. This afternoon's sparring session was no different. She was leaving tomorrow, and I wanted her to be prepared for anything.

As she came at me with her best offensive attacks, I successfully dodged them. Her face was getting red, and she was blowing her hair out of her eyes, a sure sign she was getting frustrated. My mind wandered back to Monday when she'd confronted me about my lack of safety precautions while I lifted weights. I hadn't immediately followed her when she walked out. She'd needed time to process her feelings, and maybe I did, too. I wasn't used to someone worrying about me. I gave her half an hour and went after her when she didn't return. She was sitting on the giant rock with her feet dangling, peering out at the lake, and tears ran down her face. My heart cracked.

We sat quietly for a while, both of us knowing that something had changed between us but not wanting to give voice to it. Somewhere along the way, we'd moved beyond two people taking pleasure in each other's bodies. We'd become friends. I couldn't let it be any more than that. I'd reconciled this time with Stephanie because it was finite. Having another woman take Deborah's place was something I'd never allow. It scared me that Stephanie was close to doing just that. I'd gone whole days without thinking of Deborah since Stephanie had been here. That had stopped me cold. I worried I was tarnishing Deborah's memory and spitting on what we had together.

Instead of confronting the issue head-on, I sidestepped by telling her Oz had called and asked to meet her in Lawrenceville, New Jersey, on her way home. He and I had put our heads together to devise a plan to provide Stephanie with the means to escape her life if necessary. It was a way to ease my worries and for Oz to pay her back for solving his case. Oz wanting to meet up with her had piqued her interest, but she had asked no questions.

I stumbled and almost went down. My mind had wandered so far that I'd been caught off guard by a jab to my jaw. Thankfully, we were wearing protective gear, and although Stephanie had gained strength, she wasn't strong enough to truly damage me. But her hit jarred me hard enough I couldn't see for a few seconds.

"Are you okay?" She immediately dropped her guard and approached me.

"Yeah," I managed to respond. Now that she literally knocked me back into the present, I shook it off and got my head back in the game. There was only one more day of training, which meant my time was running out to ensure she was ready for whatever life threw at her.

Focusing back on Stephanie and giving her time to get back into guard position, I threw a right cross, which she blocked with a jab kick combination. I smiled on the inside because that was a good response. She was really good. But this kind of confidence often led to cockiness. I needed to change it up and give her the unexpected.

Her muscles were relaxed, but her stance was tight—rock solid—chin tucked, eyes forward, hands up, elbows in, and toes pointed toward me. I must have telegraphed my decision to ratchet things up because she got a twinkle in her eye that issued a challenge to bring it on.

I came at her, using combinations in quick succession. My hits landed harder and faster. It threw her off balance. She froze for a second, unsure what was happening since she'd been able to block those same moves before.

We alternated landing punches and kicks, shaking them off and adjusting our responses before getting back into fighting position. She had excellent muscle memory, and her technique was solid. She was just having trouble applying that technique against a constantly changing opponent.

She was getting tired but still maintaining her guard, even if her punches were getting a little sloppy. And then she wavered. That was my in, and I took it. Instead of a right cross followed by the leg kick she expected, I added a high kick from Muay Thai. The kick was supposed to land on the side of the opponent's head, but I didn't want to come at her that hard, so I tried to land the kick on her shoulder. I'd practiced this move so often that my foot went where it was supposed to without my meaning it to. I knew it was going to land hard and in the wrong place, but I couldn't stop it.

Dammit!

She fell in slow motion. It was probably only seconds, but my entire being wavered, and I thought I would be sick. I threw my gloves off and fell to the floor beside her. What have I done?

"Steph? Steph?"

Her eyes were closed, but then she moaned and slowly rolled her head from side to side. "Owe." Her mouthguard muffled her whimper, so she spit it out, and that's when I saw blood running down her chin. Her eyes flickered open as she yanked her head protection off and placed her hand over her cheek. "I think you knocked my lights out." She attempted a smile that was more of a grimace.

"That's not funny. Is anything broken?" I held my hand in front of her. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Seven," she said.

"I only have five fingers on my hand."

"Fine. Three."

I sighed in relief. Three was correct. If she could joke, then she must not be that hurt. I'd come at her harder and harder in the name of protecting her, and now she was on the floor where I knocked her. "Don't move." I ran to the bathroom and wet a small towel. Kneeling beside her, I pried her hand away and dabbed the wet towel against her lip. The blood was slowing, but the whole side of her face was swelling and turning dark. Being cool during a crisis had been hammered into me during my training, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking. Why did I have to come at her so hard? I was a brute. A big, ugly brute.

She tried to take the towel away from me. "I'm okay, Finn. Stop mothering me. I know what I signed up for, and it wasn't to be babied. A real attacker certainly won't."

"I know. I just… I don't want to be the one hurting you." She winced as I continued to dab at the small stream of blood on her lower lip. "Sorry."

"This is nothing compared to what I've already lived through."

Being reminded of what she'd endured in the cellar didn't help.

"Are you sure your jaw isn't broken?"

"I'm talking, ain't I?"

"Yeah, that's a good sign." I leaned down and gently kissed the other side of her mouth.

"Owe!"

"Shit! Sorry. I didn't mean to kick you in the head. I was aiming for your shoulder."

"It's okay. I know you weren't trying to hurt me. I'm a big girl. I'll be fine."

"We should call it a day." I stood and helped her up.

"No. I want to keep going. I need to learn all I can before—"

Both of us were thinking about why she didn't finish her sentence, but neither wanted to voice the words. "If you're sure, but you have to promise to let me know if you need to stop."

"Promise." She circled away from me, giving herself a minute to shake out her limbs and put her protective gear back on. When she was back in guard stance, she gave a slight nod and a crooked smile. I knew I was in for it.

AN: The next chapter (39) is decision time. Will Stephanie stay, or will she go? What do you think? Could Stephanie live on the isolated mountain with Finn indefinitely? If she leaves the mountain, what kind of life will she return to? She's grown but has her friends and family grown? Will they try to put her back in the same box she was in? Leave a review and let me know your thoughts.