Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 42

"Harder!"

Harry grits his teeth, body pushing hard as he forces his lithe frame to bear the hefty load of the weights resting firmly in his strong hands. His facial expression looks pained as he bends his knees, squatting as low as possible, desperately trying not to focus on the intense burn in his muscles and the salty sweat sliding down the side of his face.

"Two more, let's go!"

Harry turns his head to glance at his trainer, Sean, the burly-looking dude with a neck the same size as his over-grown bicep. The man's arms were crossed over his chest, covering the black wicking fabric all trainers were forced to wear here. He had been riding Harry hard today, and he was already mentally and physically exhausted. He cursed him silently before he moved to bend his knees again, despite his body's protest.

"Come on, fucking push!"

Harry wonders if he knows how patronizing he sounds when he's screaming at him. He bets Eleanor hand selected this prick for that reason. She loved to make sure he was consistently chastised like the child she thought he was.

"Really man? You're acting like a pussy today. I said harder!"

And that really had been the biggest issue on his mind since his blowout fight with Eleanor two days ago where he finally broke it off. It was like something snapped in him, and all that was left was anger. Anger for everything she had ever done to him, everything she put him through, everything he was now blatantly aware she chose to do just to manipulate him.

But at the same time, he had been with Eleanor for so long that he didn't know exactly how to extricate her from his life. He didn't even know life without her, really. For example — he still went to the gym, the gym she picked with the trainer who he hated because he yelled at him, just like her.

The thought of all of the things he had to change just to live his life without her was overwhelming. His house, his gym, his clothes, his diet, his job, his friends. His entire existence had become one long to-do list intricately linked to the woman who was supposed to be his future wife, and he felt conflicted. Yes, in a sense — he was free now. But at the same time, he felt imprisoned. Imprisoned in a life forever tied to her that would take forever to get out of.

"Stop dilly-daddling...one more!"

He let the breath rush out of him, wrangling the thoughts in his head to focus on the task at hand. Being at the gym was a great stress reliever, and he just needed to focus.

He lets his body squat down once more, despite the protests in every fiber of his being. All he has to do is push back — just once more. He tries to think of anything but the pain and push —

The push of her mouth against his is urgent, and he hasn't felt passion like that in...

He chokes suddenly, the memory breaking his concentration as his legs give out — the ground forcing his knees to his chest and reminding him that he really doesn't bend that way anymore. The breath rushes from his lungs as Sean comes to grab the metal bar quickly, pulling it up into the metal stand of the leg press machine so that Harry is safe.

The crumpled shell of a man lets his head hang back, muscles trembling — and he's not so sure it's from the weights anymore. His memory is foggy, half-heartedly trying to forget the feeling of Olivia's tongue in his mouth, the way she gripped at his shirt, the feeling of her gentle fingertips against his jaw.

"Dude, are you okay?"

He could tell Sean was sincere, even if he was clearly frustrated by Harry's failure at the simplest of tasks.