Chapter Three

Annette

The candle-lit studio is ready. I pace around the space, straightening the already perfectly aligned mats one last time. The incense swirls around me, a heady mix of sandalwood and lavender that clings to my senses, urging calm where there's only a storm of nerves. My fingers linger on the smooth surface of the nearest mat, a purple one, Beathan's favorite color. I exhale slowly, willing the flutter in my stomach to still.

The door above creaks open, a familiar sound that has come to signal safety, like a lighthouse to a ship at sea. I hear their voices before I see their faces, a balm to the chaos of my mind.

"Annette, are you ready?" Sean's voice carries through the open space.

"We can't wait to see everything you've done with the place!" Beth chimes in, her warmth wrapping around me like a well-worn blanket.

Sean is the first to come down the stairs from my apartment above. I find myself enveloped in a group hug that smells of home. Sean's solid presence is grounding, and his tattoos hidden beneath his shirt are a known mark of his loyalty to both his club and family. Beth's smile reaches her eyes, the kind that knows your soul and accepts it, secrets and all.

"Thanks for coming early," I murmur, pulling back just enough to look at them. "It means the world."

"Wouldn't miss it," Sean says, and I believe him.

His gaze shifts to Beathan, who is attempting to scale his leg like a particularly challenging cliff face.

"Hey, B," Beth greets my son with a joyful laugh, scooping him into her arms as if he weighs nothing. "Are you ready for some fun?"

"Yes, and look, Auntie Beth! I'm Spider-Man!" Beathan's excitement bubbles over, his laughter infectious.

"Of course you are, superhero." She plants a kiss atop his wild brown curls.

I watch them, this makeshift family of mine, and find solace in their company. For a moment, the weight of the past and the fear of what lies ahead all fade to a whisper. Here, in this space filled with love and acceptance, my secrets feel safe and my heart less burdened.

"Your studio looks great." Sean places a protective hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you. And thank you for looking after Beathan while I run my first class."

I glance down at my son, his small hand gripping mine with a trust that squeezes my heart.

"I've got him," Sean says. His assurance is a balm to the low thrum of anxiety in my veins.

"Thanks, VP," I tease, as it's what the members of his MC call him. I crouch to meet Beathan's gaze. "You're going to spend the day with Uncle Sean and Auntie Beth, okay?"

"Will there be ice cream?" Beathan asks, his green eyes wide with hope.

"Only if you're good." Sean chuckles, ruffling Beathan's hair, which somehow springs back even wilder than before.

"Promise." Beathan wraps his arms around Sean's neck, and just like that, he swings into a secure hold. The sight of them together—a powerful man so gentle with a child—fills me with a warmth that pushes back any fears.

"Be good, B," I say, kissing his cheek.

"Good luck, Mommy!" he calls as they head out, and I can't help but smile.

"Thank you," I whisper, though they are already too far to hear.

Gratitude swells within me, not just for the childcare but for the unspoken vow that pulses between Sean, Beth, and myself. They will keep Beathan safe. On that, I stake my world.

The door swings open, and my first students arrive. "Welcome to Serenity Space Yoga," my voice is steady despite the fluttering in my chest.

It's a mix of familiar faces and strangers, all seeking respite or strength on these mats.

"Annette, this place is beautiful," one of the attendees, a friend from the local market, compliments as she steps past the threshold.

"Thank you, Jenna," I reply, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I can't seem to shake.

My gaze sweeps over the studio, the bamboo floors, the soft lighting, the walls adorned with tranquil hues. It's a sanctuary I've built from the remnants of a life once fractured, a testament to new beginnings. As the room fills, the incense's subtle fragrance mingles with the scent of anticipation.

"Everyone, please find a mat and settle in," I instruct, finding solace in the routine as I take my place at the front.

The door chimes softly, a gentle intrusion that slices through the hum of hushed conversations. I turn, expecting another local or perhaps a latecomer uncertain about the art of yoga, only to find myself staring into hazel eyes that have haunted the periphery of my dreams.

"Tyson," I breathe, my heart tripping over his name.

The studio seems to contract around me, the walls inching closer with each second as he stands there, immaculate in a casual button-up that does nothing to hide the strength it drapes over.

"Hello, Annette," he says softly.

My pulse quickens, betraying the composure I've meticulously woven around myself. Why is he here? The question tumbles through my mind. He steps inside, a tentative guest in a world that feels suddenly too small, too intimate.

"Didn't expect to see you," I manage to say.

His lips curve in a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I wanted to see your dream come true. I wouldn't have missed this for the world." There's a sincerity in his eyes, a softness that contradicts the hard lines of his businessman fa?ade.

"Even with your busy schedule?" My attempt at lightness feels brittle and transparent.

"Especially with it." He steps closer, and I'm keenly aware of the space between us shrinking. "You've created something beautiful here. It's… calming, just like you."

His compliment washes over me, both warming and unsettling me. "Thank you, Tyson, that means a lot." But it's too much. Too close.

The warmth of his gaze threatens to melt the barriers I've built, brick by brick, around my heart. I look away, focusing on anything but the man who stands as an embodiment of temptation and turmoil.

Attendees continue to stream in, their gazes flitting between me and the enigma that is Tyson Reed, sensing the shift in the air. I should be mingling, playing the gracious hostess, but my thoughts are bound to the man who watches me with an intensity that sends shivers up my spine.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," I say, gesturing vaguely toward the gathering crowd. My voice sounds foreign to my ears, distant and hollow as if part of me has stepped out of my body and left a shell behind.

As I move to greet another newcomer, I can feel Tyson's gaze on me, a tangible caress I both crave and fear. My heart yearns to acknowledge him and explore the possibilities his presence promises. But memories of Lochlan wrap around me, a reminder of the pain that comes from letting someone in.

"Your space is beautiful, Annette," a woman says, her smile genuine, yet all I can offer in return is a nod, my attention snagged on Tyson once again.

There he stands, a solitary figure among pairs and groups, his isolation a mirror of my own. Our eyes meet across the room, and for a moment, everything else fades—the excited chatter, the scent of incense, and the air I breathe. In that glance lies a question, a plea, and perhaps the barest hint of hope.

Today is meant to be about new beginnings, not old fears. Yet here I stand, caught between the past and the future, between solitude and the risk of another heartbreak. With his quiet intensity and hidden depths, Tyson Reed complicates the careful balance I've struck.

I force my feet to move, to walk away from his magnetic pull, even as my soul aches to stay tethered to his side. With each step, I tell myself that this grand opening is about finding peace, not stirring the embers of a fire I'm not sure I can control.

He's standing there, so assured, looking like he belongs in a glossy magazine spread rather than in the humble vibrancy of my yoga studio.

"Where's Beathan?" Tyson asks as he moves closer to me.

"Sean and Beth have taken him while I teach my first class."

He looks around at the other women and nods. "I'll make myself scarce and come back when you're done. Maybe we could celebrate?"

"Celebrate?"

He smiles, and I feel every nerve in my body intensify under his gaze.

"Yes, this deserves to be celebrated. You've created an awesome space for you and Beathan, and I wanted to be here to share in it with you ." His hand runs down my arm, and I swear I feel like I'm about to melt.

Needing to put space between us, I step back, nodding like a mad woman. "That sounds amazing. Why don't you get something from the bakery and make yourself at home upstairs?"

Tyson's smile widens as though he knows the impact he's having on me. "I can do that."

He winks at me and leaves the building. This is all so new for us. When I lived in his home in New York, there was an invisible wall between us, and although we shared the same space, there were unspoken rules. These rules and walls seem to have disappeared, and I'm not sure I'm ready to think of Tyson as anything but a roommate, even though my heart is telling me otherwise.

Clapping my hands together, I move to the front of the class. "Okay, everyone, if you'll take a position on a mat, we can begin." I smile at everyone and wait until they are settled. "This is a beginner's class and will take about thirty minutes. All I need from you is an open heart and mind." I smile at them and ask, "Are you ready?"

Many nod and a few say yes.

"Okay, my friends, we will begin with a crossed-leg pose called the easy pose."

The class sits down on their mats, their attention on me.

"We're going to loop our shoulders forward and inhale as we do, then on the exhale, wind them back. This is to concentrate on our breathing."

The class continues, and the students follow my lead. After working for Health, Exercise, Longevity, and Performance, or HELP for short, in New York, they taught me all I needed to know to move into the teaching phase. It sure beats working as a personal assistant. This is mine, and as I guide my students through the poses, offering the occasional tip, I feel like I've come into my own.

"Mommy!" A sudden burst of laughter breaks through the door, and I turn to see Beathan, his small frame a blur as he darts across the room toward me.

The class has ended, and students are slowly leaving. Our first lesson went well.

Sean chases after Beathan and catches him as he reaches me. Beth laughs as Sean lifts him into the air.

"Look, Mom! I'm flying!" Beathan squeals, his arms stretched wide as Sean lifts him into the air, spinning him around in a gentle arc.

"Higher, higher!" Beth chimes in, her laughter mingling with Beathan's.

My heart swells, watching them with the ease and happiness that flow so naturally in their company. It's what I want for Beathan, this untroubled delight. It's what I want for myself, though a part of me whispers that such things are not meant for me.

Not anymore.

"Seems like he's having the time of his life," Tyson observes, his attention now on the trio's playful antics as he moves to stand next to me.

"Yes, he is." My voice is soft, almost lost in the cacophony of giggles and playful shouts.

It's easier to talk about Beathan, to hide behind the maternal shield, than to confront the tangle of emotions Tyson stirs in me.

Turning back to me, Tyson says, "Annette," his voice dropping to a murmur only I can hear, "you don't have to do this alone. Maybe I could move to town. Help you get settled?"

My breath hitches. The offer is hanging between us, tempting and terrifying all at once. I want to lean into the promise of companionship he offers, yet fear keeps my feet rooted to the spot, unwilling to step forward or back.

"Thank you, Tyson. I…" My voice trails off as I watch Beathan leap into Sean's arms, safe and secure, his laughter the sweetest melody. "I need to think about it."

"Take all the time you need," he says, and there's no pressure in his voice, only quiet understanding.

"Right now, I should see everyone out," I murmur, using the students as an excuse to escape the intensity of our exchange.

"Of course." He nods, stepping aside, allowing me to slip away.

As I move through the crowd, saying goodbye with a practiced smile, I can't help but steal glances back at Tyson, his figure a steady presence amidst the flux of bodies and voices. Each look is a question I'm not ready to answer. Each flutter in my chest is a reminder of the risks of letting someone in. And as the day unfolds, with every laughter-filled shout from Beathan and every silent conversation with Tyson, I'm left wondering if the walls I've built for protection might also keep out the very things I yearn for—love, connection, and a shared future.

"Annette? Are you listening?" a student asks.

"I'm so sorry. I was watching my son being taken outside by his uncle. What were you saying?"

"Can I book in for the eight-week beginner's course? You slowly build up to harder stretches, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. If you come every week by the end, you should be able to do some of the more difficult poses."

She smiles at me. "I hope so. This was hard, and I'm sweating up a storm." She chews on her bottom lip, then nods. "Okay, sign me up. Do I pay now or at every class?"

Moving toward my desk in the window, I say, "You pay now, and don't worry if you miss a class, I'll still give you eight lessons."

"Sign me up!"

Sean winks at me and takes Beathan by the hand and outside. He crouches down, eye level with Beathan. They're about to embark on a treasure hunt in the park across the road—Sean's idea of an adventure that fits perfectly within the realm of a five-year-old's imagination. Beth stands close by, her hands clasped together as if she's holding onto the moment. They are standing beside the open window near my desk, and I can hear their conversation.

"Ready, B?" Sean asks, his voice steady but tinged with excitement. He hands Beathan a crinkled map, edges burned for effect—a pirate's map, no less.

"Ready!" Beathan's declaration bursts through the air, full of determination and glee. His grin stretches ear to ear, mirroring the joy in Sean's eyes as they set off, following the twists and turns of the map.

Beth's laughter mingles with Beathan's squeals of delight as he discovers a ‘hidden' gemstone beside the fountain, and another tucked under a bush shaped like a resting hare. Each find is a triumph, each step drawing them closer, weaving the threads of their bond tighter.

Beth makes her way back to me and steps inside the studio just as I finish processing the sale of my very first eight-week booking.

"Thank you. And I look forward to seeing you next week."

"Thank you. It was fun, and I got a good workout. Do you have room for more students? I know my sister and maybe my mom will want to come."

I hand her a business card. "I sure do, and I'd love to have them."

She holds up the card. "I'll get them to call you later. Thanks again!"

A wide smile spreads across my face, and excitement and satisfaction swell within me as I say goodbye to her. I can't help but feel a warm glow of pride welling up inside me. The hard work, the late nights, and the countless hours of dedication have led to this moment. I lift my chin a little higher, feeling a surge of confidence. This is my achievement, a testament to my perseverance and determination. I smile even wider, unable to contain the joy and pride radiating from within me.

"Looks like you're a success," Beth observes, appearing at my side, her warmth a welcome presence.

"Hopefully, the first of many."

"Judging by all the smiles and sweaty people, I think that's a given." Beth looks out at Sean and Beathan. "They're having a great time."

"They are," I reply, watching as Sean lifts Beathan onto his shoulders to reach a clue nestled in the crook of a tree branch. "Thank you for being here today."

"Wouldn't miss it," she says, nudging my arm gently. "And how are you holding up? With everything?"

I exhale slowly, the weight of the day settling like a shawl upon my shoulders. "It's a lot. But it's good. It's progress."

"Annette," Beth leans in, her voice soft yet firm, "you've got this. And we've got you. It's nice of Tyson to show up." Her smile is an anchor, grounding me amid the storm of emotions swirling inside.

"Thanks, Beth, and yes, it is. He's always been a good man."

"Maybe you should tell him that?" She nods in Tyson's direction.

My smile dims a little. "Maybe? I'm not sure."

"It's been five years. No one would blame you for wanting to move on." Beth gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before returning to Sean and my son.

My gaze drifts across the room, once again landing on Tyson. He's standing near the back wall, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, watching me. The soft light filtering through the sheer curtains catches the edges of his dark hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow. I quickly avert my eyes, focusing on the woman who has appeared in front of me.

"Did you enjoy the class?" I ask to cover up the fact I haven't been following the conversation.

"Immensely," she replies, her tone genuine. "You've created a beautiful space here, Annette."

"Thank you. Did you want to book another class?"

She nods. "I'm Jules. My friend, Amy, said she booked in for the eight-week course. I'd like to do that too."

"Yes!" I say a little too loudly as I steal another glance at Tyson.

He's moved closer now, his hazel eyes scanning the room until they meet mine. My heart skips a silent confession of the turmoil he causes within me.

After I've filled out all the forms and ushered Jules out of my studio, I turn to straighten mats and clean them.

"Need any help with those?" Tyson's voice breaks through the silence of the studio.

I straighten up, steadying my breath. "No, no, I've got it. Thank you, though."

"Of course," he responds, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing half-smile.

It's as if he's aware of his effect on me, and it infuriates me but draws me in.

Tyson's presence is a constant pulse in the room, a reminder of a connection I'm terrified to explore. Each time our eyes meet, a silent conversation passes between us, one of curiosity, longing, and a shared secret understanding that is as thrilling as it is terrifying.

Sean and Beth come back into the studio. Beathan holds on to each of their hands as they swing him back and forth.

"Mommy!" Beathan runs for me, his little hands digging into his pockets. "Look what I found!"

Smiling, I crouch down, and he pulls out fake gems, a couple of dimes, a small car, and a motorbike made of wire. Holding up the bike to Sean, I raise my eyebrows at him in a silent question.

"You can never be too young to learn how to ride," Sean says.

Beth holds out a small plastic horse to Beathan. "Or ride a horse. I've got a couple at the farm, and if your momma says yes, I'd be happy to teach you."

"Can I?" Beathan practically squeals at me, then his eyes land on Tyson. "Ty! Look at my treasures." He bounds over to Tyson, little hands extended with his bounty.

Beth touches my arm. "We should be getting back."

Sean's gaze is on Beathan and Tyson, but he says, "Yeah, I've got an early day at the garage tomorrow. And there's horses to feed at home."

Beth rolls her eyes. "He makes it sound like a chore, but he loves the horses as much as I do."

Laughing, I nod and say, "Thank you both for looking after him. I really appreciate it."

Sean's attention comes back to me. "How did it go?"

"Really well. A few have booked in for the eight-week course. I think when word spreads around town, business will be steady." I smile at him. "But in case you didn't notice, all my students were women. It'd be nice if some men came to a class or two."

Sean's hand goes to the back of his neck, and he rubs it. "Ahh, I'll ask at the clubhouse if anyone is interested." Beth stifles a laugh, and Sean looks at her. "What?"

"I can just imagine the Loyal Rebels in here doing a downward dog."

"What the fuck is a downward dog?"

Beth laughs loudly. "If you're lucky, I'll demonstrate it at home."

Sean smiles at me, gives me a two-fingered wave, and they depart. Their easy affection for each other starkly contrasts the complicated dance between Tyson and me.

"Mommy?" Beathan's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"Hey, sweetheart." I walk over to him and Tyson. "Did you have fun today?"

"Uh-huh. I'm glad Ty came," he says, smiling shyly at Tyson. "Are you coming upstairs?"

Tyson looks at me. "So long as your mom doesn't mind."

"I need a shower, but no, I don't mind. Maybe you two could fix us an afternoon snack while I clean up?"

Tyson scoops Beathan up in his arms, and they go upstairs with me following close behind.

"Sean took me on a treasure hunt. He had a map and everything."

"Ahh, so that's why you have so many treasures."

"Uh-huh."

"I might have some sweet treats inside." Tyson smiles at me over his shoulder.

"For real?"

"Uh-huh." Tyson copies my son.

As soon as they hit the top stair, Beathan wriggles out of his grasp and runs farther into the apartment. Tyson stops and holds a hand out to me.

"We should hurry before he eats everything."

Smiling, I put my hand in his and say, "Not until he's had at least a sandwich."

Tyson grins. "Tough Mom, I like it." He raises my hand to his lips and kisses it.

A hot blush creeps up my neck, and I shake my head as words won't form, but thankfully, I'm saved as Beathan runs back to us with a cupcake in his hands.

"Tyson got chocolate frosted!"

Untangling myself from Tyson, I run toward Beathan. "Not until you've had a sandwich."

His little face falls. "Aww, Mom."

Taking the cupcake from him, I say, "How about half a sandwich? Tyson will make you whatever you want while I go shower."

With his little lips turning down, he says, "Okay."

Smiling at Tyson, his hands are in his pockets, and he's staring at both of us. "Go on, Mom. I'll make sandwiches."

"Thank you." I kiss Beathan's head and disappear into my bedroom.

The yoga lesson was easy, even though I'm still sweaty. I throw my yoga clothes into the laundry basket as I hurry into my bathroom for a shower. I wash my hair, scrub away the day's efforts, and take care of everything I need to. Then, I wrap myself in a big, fluffy towel. With a swipe of my hand, I clear the steam from the mirror and catch sight of myself, grinning. It feels amazing to finally achieve my dream, surrounded by friends and family who will always support me.

The rich floral scent of my lotion fills the air as I smooth it over my legs and chest. Next, I apply a little lip gloss and some mascara, then lightly blow-dry my hair. Opening my closet, I pull out a light pink, free-flowing dress—Tyson once remarked that it suited me perfectly. Underwear goes on then the dress, and a final check in the mirror shows everything is in place. Satisfied, I hurry back into the kitchen.

"Mom, Tyson made me a peanut butter and jelly."

"I'm so glad you two opted for the healthy sandwich," I tease.

Tyson shrugs. "I made you a chicken and mayo."

Giving my son big eyes, I ask, "Why didn't you have a chicken and mayo?"

"PBJ is better." Beathan giggles.

"Did you eat half or all?"

"All. Tyson cut off the crusts," Beathan admits with a grin.

Tyson laughs. "Geez, buddy, way to throw me under the bus."

Beathan shakes his little head. "Mom won't mind. Sometimes she does it for me too."

"When you've been good."

Tyson holds out a plate to me, and I accept it with a smile. "Thank you. Did you make yourself one?"

He nods. "Yep."

"He had a PBJ too!"

Surprised, I stare at Tyson with my mouth slightly ajar. "Really?"

"He's right. They're good."

Moving toward the dining table, I take a seat. "But not healthy."

"Maybe you could cook me dinner?"

The sandwich is halfway to my mouth, and I freeze, staring at Tyson. "You can stay this long?"

He joins me at the table. "Yes. I've taken a leave of absence."

"For how long?"

"Well, that's up—"

"Mom! Can I have a cupcake now?"

Tyson stands and moves to the box of sweet treats. "That was the deal, wasn't it, Mom?"

Smiling at Beathan, I say, "Yes, you can, but only one."

He bounds over to Tyson, who opens the box. "Which one?" he asks as he winks at Beathan.

"Ahh… chocolate!"

Tyson reaches in and hands him a chocolate-frosted cupcake. "Don't make a mess."

Beathan takes the cupcake and goes into his room.

"You gave him one already, didn't you?" I ask as I bite into my sandwich.

Tyson nods. "Yeah, but it was our secret, and we weren't telling you."

His cell phone rings, frowning as he looks at the display. "Shit." He holds it up. "I need to take this."

"It's fine."

Tyson moves into the living room to answer his call. After sharing a home with him for five years, I know it must be something important or he wouldn't have answered it.

I finish my sandwich and move into the kitchen to do the dishes. Tyson comes in and leans against the kitchen counter.

"That was work. It seems my leave of absence will have to wait a few days."

"Okay."

He reaches out and touches my arm. "Will you make me dinner another time?"

His hand feels good on my skin, and every fiber of my being is focused on it. "I'd love to."

Tyson cocks his head to the side. "I wish I could stay."

"You're leaving?" Beathan asks, and we both turn to stare at him.

He has chocolate frosting smeared across his face and over both hands.

Tyson bends to look at him. "Buddy, did you get any in your mouth?"

"You're leaving?" he asks again.

Tyson nods. "Yeah, buddy. I'm sorry. A last-minute problem that I need to take care of, but I'll be back."

"Promise?" Beathan's little face is screwed up in a frown.

"Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die." Tyson raises his right hand and places it over his heart, his fingers slightly spread. Then he draws an imaginary ‘X' over his chest, moving his hand in a crisscross motion. Tyson's expression is serious, his eyes wide with sincerity to emphasize the truth of his promise.

Beathan throws his chocolate-covered hands around Tyson's neck and buries his face in his chest. "You'll come back soon?"

Tyson places a hand on the back of his head. "Nothing will keep me away."

Satisfied, Beathan leans back and giggles. "You have chocolate on your shirt."

Tyson looks down at the sticky mess. "It would seem I do. Why don't you go wash up while I talk to your mom?"

"Okay!" Beathan bounds away.

Wetting a cloth, I move toward Tyson. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't mind."

From the tone of his voice, I know he means it. Standing on tiptoes, I swipe at the chocolate on his neck. "Do you need to leave now?"

His hand comes up and covers mine. "Unfortunately, yes. One last deal and I'm done for a while."

The air between us feels charged, and I know if I take a step closer, he'll kiss me, but am I ready?

"Did I get all of it?" Beathan asks as he returns to the kitchen.

I step back from Tyson, breaking the spell, and look at my son.

"Mostly." I laugh. "Come here." Using the same cloth, I clean his face. "Now, say goodbye to Tyson."

"Goodbye, Tyson."

Tyson ruffles his hair. "See you soon, buddy."

We walk Tyson down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. He looks at me, starts to say something, then shakes his head, closes his mouth, and opens his car door.

"I'll be seeing you both soon."

"We'll be waiting," I say with a smile.

Tyson locks eyes with me, gets in his car, and drives away. There's so much I wish I had said, but as we watch him drive away, I know he's a man of his word, and if he says he will be back, he will be.