Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,58

down the hall.

I’m left alone with Mel. A nervous tightness begins to form in my chest.

For a good long while, I don’t move. I don’t know how to properly react to this revelation. Rich has feelings for me? And he decides to tell me now, after trying to leave me behind?

No. It doesn’t make any sense. He must have misspoke. He hasn’t made a single move on me since pulling me from the bar, and we’ve had plenty of time alone for him to do it.

But… somewhere deep inside, a voice whispers to me that this was the real reason I’d stayed with him instead of ratting him out to the cops. Because somewhere along our twisted journey, I developed feelings for him, too. Because my heart knew what my mind did not.

I do not know whether I should be excited or afraid. Rich is the worst thing for me right now. Yet despite knowing that—despite logically understanding that my self-preservation instincts should be driving me far, far away from him—I feel… a pull. To him. A magnetism that is undeniable. It had always been there, but I’d never had enough time to consider it before. Now, with Rich’s proclamation…

I stand up. My hesitation lasts only a second before I start down the hall. I need to talk to him.

I stride to the only closed door I see and rap my knuckles against it. “Rich?”

There’s no answer. After a moment, I pick up a faint, rhythmic sound on the other side. Thump, thump, THUD! Thump, thump, THUD!

I knock again. “Rich, what are you doing?” I try the doorknob, find that it’s unlocked. “Rich, I’m coming in,” I warn before I open the door.

The door leads to a large garage with a concrete floor. It has been retrofitted into a weight room. There’s a treadmill near me, a bench with some dumbbells beside it, and, at the far end of the garage… an old, brown punching bag.

That’s where I see Rich. He’d torn off his shirt and thrown it to the side. His back glistens with sweat as he attacks the bag with unrelenting determination. Thump, thump, thump, thump, THUD! Thump, thump, THUD! THUD! THUD!

I don’t think he’s noticed me. His jabs continue, growing more fierce by the second. THUD! THUD! The bag swings away from him and he catches it with a brutal left hook on its way back. I can see the faded scar on the outside of his shoulder. Every fiber of muscle in his body is showing. Each of his jabs releases energy like a coiled spring. He has the destructive energy of a hurricane.

I don’t know if it’s best for me to talk to him like this. I’d seen how he can get angry.

I start toward him anyway.

He glances my way for a split-second. Then he grunts, turns his back, and continues attacking the punching bag.

“Rich?”

No response. His jabs become more forceful.

“Rich.”

Still he ignores me, focusing all his attention on what he’s doing. Each punch seems to rebound more loudly off the leather.

“Rich! Rich, look at me!”

He freezes mid-strike. He steps to the side, allowing the bag to swing past him. He keeps his head lowered and his back to me. His shoulders rise and fall with every breath.

“Penny,” he says quietly. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk,” I begin, stepping around so I can see his face. Suddenly, I notice the red staining his knuckles. “Rich!” I exclaim. “Your hands!”

“It’s nothing,” he says curtly. He wipes them against his jeans, then picks up a roll of white tape and starts wrapping them. He leans against one cement wall and focuses completely on his hands. “Well?” he asks without looking up. “What do you want to talk about?”

I forget myself for a second. There’s something very raw about the way he looks just now. Shirtless. Leaning against the cold wall. Focusing on his knuckles. I feel a primal urge to throw myself at him.

I push it down.

“What do I want to talk about?” I repeat. “What do you think I want to talk about?” I gesture around me. “Everything! This place, what we’re doing, us!”

Rich looks up. His face is so hard it could be carved from stone. “There is no ‘us,’” he says gravely.

“I heard you say—”

“I know what I said!” he interrupts. “It was stupid. I should never have spoken.”

I almost grind my teeth in frustration. “Why do you need to be so stubborn?” I demand.

“Why?” Rich retorts. “Because I am not who