Chapter 3

The door chimed its welcome,a light sound over the thunder of her heart and the pounding of fists that filled her ears. Emma stepped into Hawthorne Kickboxing Gym with emotions swirling inside her. She smoothed down her workout top as she entered, feeling the eyes of the gym"s regulars briefly appraising her. A self-deprecating laugh escaped her as she stumbled slightly on the edge of a mat, her inexperience on full display.

Her pristine white sneakers stood out against the scuffed mats and well-worn equipment. The air was thick with sweat and determination, something she desperately needed.

Her gaze swept over the space, noticing the heavy bags that swung like pendulums. Did these people fight their own shadows? Mirrored walls reflected images of exertion and strength. For a moment, Emma felt out of place in her tailored workout gear that still held the creases from the store.

She took a deep breath. The smell of leather and rubber grounded her. Her fingers curled around the strap of her gym bag as she approached the sign-up desk. Her steps were measured, a balance between the hesitance that tugged at her and the resolve that pushed her forward.

"First time?" the receptionist asked, looking Emma up and down. Emma became acutely aware of her own tense stance at the entrance.

She clutched her gym bag so tightly her knuckles ached. She wanted to appear confident, to show the same determination as the others she saw practicing their punches with such focus. But her voice was too quiet when she finally spoke, betraying her nerves. "Yes," she managed to say. Her whisper got almost lost in the cacophony of thumps, groans and grunts, and thumping music. She licked her lips nervously.

The receptionist smiled as she handed over a form. "You"ll love it here. Everyone"s at a different stage in their journey, so don"t worry about keeping up. Just focus on your own workout."

Emma"s gaze darted around. She took in the sprawling room filled with punching bags, the loft with heavy exercise equipment, and the intimidating sparring ring. Her eyes paused on the open area in front of the ring where a man in a gray tank top demonstrated a movement with his right arm. His motion was fluid and precise–mesmerizing.

"Thanks," she said, accepting the form with a trembling hand. "I"m looking to... learn self-defense."

The man in the tank top laughed heartily at something one of his trainees said. He then turned to fix a heavy bag with a look of such intense focus that it grounded Emma. He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, displaying impressive muscles and tattoos.

Emma pressed her lips together and set her jaw as she wrote her name in bold letters on the sign-up sheet. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she mimicked the solid stances of the fighters around her, aiming to transform her insecurity into unshakeable resolve. After handing back the paper, she managed a weak smile.

The receptionist flashed sparkling white teeth. "Welcome to Hawthorne Kickboxing Gym. I"m Julie," she said, extending her hand across the desk.

Emma reached out and grabbed hold. Her handshake was firmer than she felt. "Emma," she replied, looking at her sign-in. "Obviously."

Julie chuckled, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You"re a bit early. The self-defense lesson doesn't start for another half hour."

Emma"s shoulders dropped a notch, her preparedness meeting the reality of waiting. "Oh well, it gives me time to get settled," she said, attempting nonchalance as she pulled a chair from against the wall to sit and observe the current class.

Her curiosity was piqued as she watched a trainer wrap someone"s hands. She leaned forward, her body perking up with interest as she observed the precision and care of the motions. A slow smile built on her face as she imagined herself learning, improving, and maybe one day helping someone else in the same way.

In the midst of the gym"s grunts and the smack of gloves, the man in the gray tank top and with a demanding presence drew her focus. He guided a small group with a presence that was both intimidating and strangely magnetic. His hair was a disheveled crown, likely tousled from demonstrating moves or sparring, adding to the raw, almost primal aura he exuded.

The contrast between his rough appearance and her neat, clinical exterior struck Emma. Her body responded with a mix of fear and an unanticipated thrill. His voice carried over, firm and sure, resonating with power that spoke directly to her fledgling courage.

His physique was not just a sign of strength but also an emblem of dedication. Each muscle and contour told a story of countless hours spent perfecting his craft. As he moved with a fluidity that belied his solid build, correcting a novice"s hook with a gentle touch, Emma found herself both scared by his intensity and intrigued by his expertise.

She was out of her element, but the quiver in her chest wasn"t just nervousness– it was excitement. Despite her nerves, Emma felt a surge of determination as she anticipated the start of her own training. She was here to fight back against her fears, to reclaim the parts of her life that had been shadowed by her assault. It was time to start building her strength, and she was ready, even if she had to start with shaky legs and a racing heart.

* * *

Dan watched the newbie from the corner of the gym where he was wrapping up a beginner"s kickboxing class. She seemed out of place with her polished look and hesitant stance. He made a snap judgment—another well-to-do type, probably looking for the next trendy workout. She probably wouldn"t last a week; he"d seen plenty like her before, they rarely stuck it out when things got tough.

But as the class dispersed and he caught a glimpse of her sitting alone, something nagged at him. There was a certain set to her jaw, a way she watched the fighters, that didn"t quite fit with his first impression. She wasn"t just watching; she was studying, absorbing every detail with an intensity that made him second-guess his initial read.

Dan rubbed a towel across his face, damp with sweat, and allowed himself a moment of self-reflection. Maybe he was being unfair because of his own insecurities. He"d worked hard to get where he was, building a life in a city where he felt like an outsider among the affluent residents. Perhaps he resented them a bit—those who had everything handed to them, or so he assumed. But was she really one of those people? He couldn"t be sure.

He threw the towel over his shoulder. His own path hadn"t been easy, and he reminded himself how quick others were to underestimate him—a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. It wasn"t fair to cast the same assumptions on someone else.

With a silent reprimand to himself, he decided to give this woman the benefit of the doubt. After all, wasn"t this gym supposed to be a place where people could fight their own battles, visible and invisible? He"d help her with hers, just as he did for anyone else who walked through those doors, looking to change their story.