Shane & Gareth
“C’mon,” Gareth says, spotting with one hand. “You’ve got one more.”
Shane grits his teeth, pushing through. The bar rattles as it locks into place. He sits up, catching his breath.
“So,” Gareth says casually, dropping onto the bench. “What’s the latest with you and Wendy? Heard about that blowout.”
Shane huffs a dry laugh, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Anything not make the rounds in this place?”
“I mean… not when it involves her.”
“Yeah… we patched things up,” Shane says. “Mostly.”
Gareth lifts a brow, half-smirking. “That sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Before Shane can answer, he catches a flicker of movement in the mirror. Across the room, there he is. The shrink from upstairs. Alexander Beacham. Coming in from the courtyard, composed in that eerie way he always is. Perfectly put together, even in gym clothes.
He passes with a polite nod. “Gentlemen.”
“Nice to see you,” Gareth replies, nodding back for both of them.
Shane watches as Alexander settles onto the mat just behind them. He draws a deep inhale, closes his eyes, then goes still. Arms sweep wide, then fold inward. Knees bend as his spine curves. Each movement flows into the next. Not quite yoga. Not just stretching. Something meditative, disciplined. Tai chi? Hard to tell with guys like him.
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“Anyway,” Gareth says, dropping his voice a notch. “You were saying? Wendy.”
Shane lowers his voice too. “There’s just… something about her. Always has been. She’s intense. Aggressive. I caught some chatter last night. Leah was going off about how cutthroat she is at work. Real snake-in-the-grass shit.”
“Yeah, no love lost there,” Gareth says, reracking a dumbbell. “Wendy and Leah? Cold war in heels.”
“She gave me her version, obviously. Played the victim. But after what I heard? Makes you wonder who the real Wendy is.”
“No need to wonder.” Gareth snorts. “What about Raf?”
Shane hesitates. His eyes drift to the mirror again. Alexander is still moving. Still facing them. Still close enough to hear if he wants to.
“It’s done,” Shane says. “Wendy made sure of that.”
“Yikes.”
“Even without her… Raf’s life is heavy. Kids. Divorce. She’s in a different world. One-percent problems. I was never gonna belong in that.”
“Definitely not,” Gareth says with a low laugh. “Still. At least you scored the apartment upgrade.”
Shane forces a chuckle, shifting on the bench, subtly angling away from the mat behind them. “Very funny.”
“But yeah,” Gareth goes on, still blissfully unaware, “probably for the best it didn’t get serious.”
“How’s that?”
Gareth shrugs, grabbing his towel. “I mean… come on. You said it yourself. A woman like that? She wasn’t about to settle down with a civilian. No offense. She’s a gold-digging social climber at the end of the day.”
“Raf’s not—”
“Trust me,” Gareth says, brushing him off. “She is. They all are.”
Shane doesn’t answer. Just takes a slow sip from his water bottle. His gaze flicks to the mirror. There he is in the reflection: Alexander behind them. One foot glides forward as his body folds into another impossibly fluid arc, weight shifting, hands sweeping, one pressing forward, the other curling inward at his waist. No breaks, no missteps. Just that unnerving grace.
Then, his eyes open. They lock with Shane’s.
Shane looks away, fast. But he can’t let it go—that quiet, watching calm. Unflinching, like Alexander already knows the parts of him he hasn’t admitted to himself.
“Well, dude, you good?”
Shane blinks. Shakes it off. “What?”
“We doing cardio or not?” Gareth asks, rising. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”