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Mom and Farrah are up, sitting at the island in my kitchen and partaking of the fresh coffee, when I walk by.
A terse nod is all I can manage as I pass by them. They stop their conversation and concern etches their expressions. I ignore it, not slowing my stride until I open the door between the garage and my home gym. They probably think I’m angry, but I’m not. A lot of my emotions have been translated as repressed anger over the years, but usually I’m just frustrated and too overwhelmed to talk about whatever is bothering me. Amber was always the person I could confide in, but what happens when my confidant is the reason for my dizzy, swirling brain?
I connect my phone to the speakers in the gym and select a classical music station. Now’s not the time for heavy metal. I want to calm down, not amp up.
A text pops up on my phone, and it’s not from any of them women inside my house, so I open it.
Bruce
Hey, man. You working out today? And can I join you?
I close my eyes and release a sigh. Bruce would be the perfect distraction since he never shuts up.
Ford
Sure, I just got out here, actually. The side door to the garage is unlocked.
Bruce
Great! See you in a few, Cap’n.
He must’ve been near my neighborhood already, because ten minutes later Bruce waltzes into my gym with his signature grin, and his hair cut into a modernized version of a mullet. My eyes widen at the new cut. It’s shorter around the ears than I’m used to seeing on him. Bruce has completed the new look with short black workout shorts that are stretched to the max by his powerful legs, and a D.C. Eagles tee that he’s cut the neck and sleeves out of. I can almost see his nipples since the cutouts are so big. With his goofy personality and Swedish features, he somehow pulls the look look off.
“Nice haircut,” I offer dryly, already feeling calmer with Bruce here to distract my brain.
He winks. “Thanks. I went to your man, Peter. Cool dude.”
The salon. I nearly forgot the call I made on the road last week and make a mental note to follow up on that.
“I thought you never cut your hair because it’s bad luck?” I ask, knowing how superstitious he is. “And we have a home game tomorrow night.”
He shrugs, setting up his weights for chest presses. “You were brave enough to change up the first line, so I figured I could embrace change too. Sometimes change is a good thing, right? Keeps things fresh.”
I grab a fifty-pound plate and slide it onto the bar on the squat rack. “Good point. How do you think the rookie did?”
Bruce shifts his head back and forth. “So-so. But it’s only been a few games. I think he has the instincts but just needs to adapt to working with you guys.”
I nod, agreeing with him. “He’s a powerhouse, even though he’s one of the smaller guys.”
Bruce chuckles, laying on the bench and getting his hands in position on the bar. I don’t spot him since he’s got a doable load on the bar, nothing too crazy. “Right? He’s tiny compared to Mitch the Machine.”
I smile at Mitch’s nickname, given to him because of his defensive skills, and all the fights he used to get in…before therapy taught him how to channel his anger.
Bruce does eight reps of chest presses, groaning as he lifts the bar one last time, then sits up. “How’s married life? Is Amber healing okay?”
Running my tongue along my front teeth, I think on how to answer. An hour ago, I would’ve been shouting from the rooftops about how amazing life is, and I still feel that way. But now there’s this looming dread in my gut. And its name is Theo.
“Married life has been busy,” I answer honestly. I’m not going to wax poetic about how amazing it is because I’m a terrible liar, and our marriage so far has been a wild ride. And I’ve been gone for most of it. However, having Nella and Amber here to come home to was pretty amazing. “It was nice having people to come home to. And Amber is feeling great.”
He quirks a brow at my bare-minimum responses. “All right. Good.”
“How have you been? Still looking for a wife?” I ask, turning the conversation on him instead.
Bruce’s thunderous laugh fills the gym. “I was doing okay until I heard you all went lingerie shopping for your wives and didn’t invite me.”
I busy myself with the squat bar, completing my reps, desperately trying not to blush. “It was West and Colby’s idea,” I mutter.
Bruce gives me a disbelieving stare, one that says, right…I’m sure you hate lingerie.
