Draven Fox

"67," I spoke breathlessly, counting my press-ups in the gym, "68," I added, stopping when Melody walked in, carrying a sisal basket.

"I said I wanted to be left alone," I muttered, picking up water from one of the benches.

"I will, after you eat," she defied, setting the basket on a small table where the gym trainers mostly sat during gym sessions for pups.

"I'm not hungry," I stated, shifting to the bench for barbell exercise.

"But you left this morning without breakfast; I'm told you didn't show up for brunch either. You cannot continue being mad at me simply because I chose to forgive," she complained,...