Briggs’ POV
The sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the room. Sharp and repetitive. I don’t slow down.
Another rep, another pull.
Muscles tightening, releasing, burning just enough to keep my focus where it should be. Not on her. But that’s not working.
Because even here, in a space built for discipline, she’s still there. In the back of my head.
In the way her voice carried when she said fine.
In the way she looked at me like she didn’t trust me, but stepped forward anyway. And that’s what stays.
I release the bar, letting it drop back into place with a controlled exhale. Then I sit back. For a second—just a second—I let my head tilt slightly.
That memory comes rushing back, the note, the rating. A quiet breath leaves me, not quite a laugh.
Never in my life has one ever r
