Chapter 12. Silent Distance

Cassian had left the gym’s door unlocked again.

Lia pushed it open with the edge of her shoulder, careful not to let the hinges groan too loudly. Every muscle in her body ached. Every breath scraped.

He was there, of course.

Always was.

Cassian stood with his back to her, taping his wrists with short, angry tugs. The light caught on the curve of his jaw, the old scar just beneath his ear. He hadn’t shaved.

“You changed the schedule.”

“You weren’t supposed to come back yet.”

“I don’t do supposed to.”

He didn’t turn. “Maybe you should start.”

Something about his tone made her stop.

It wasn’t cold. It was careful—the kind of careful that came from guilt you didn’t want to show.

Lia crossed to the bench and dropped her bag. “You avoiding me, Coach?”

Cassian finished the wrap, tore it with his teeth, and finally turned.

His expression was composed, the kind of calm that’s really armor.

“You fainted mid-se