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This is one of my favorite workouts because, for a bigger guy like me, it creates a greater challenge. It forces me to focus on my coordination and agility instead of power and muscle mass. Building muscle was never difficult for me, but not being awkward on my feet was.
That’s not to say I neglect strength training, and since I’ve missed a few workouts this week, I’ll knock out two in one today.
I go to the bar on the other side of the room, pull myself up, strap my ankles, and begin my inverted sit-ups. After a couple of sets to get myself moving, my motions become more methodical and precise. Breathing out for ten seconds, I use my core muscles to pull my body until my elbows touch my knees, focusing on keeping my spine straight and only using my abs to lift me. Then I exhale for ten, lowering myself at the same rate, feeling the burn in my core much more on the descent. Control on release is harder to maintain and really forces you to concentrate. After ten sets of twenty, I lift myself to a right angle and hold for twenty seconds, ensuring I remember to breathe through it, feeling my lower back and transverse burn more than usual. I’ve neglected myself this week. After I’ve repeated that a few times, I lower myself and hydrate before moving to leg curls.
Two hours later, I’m dripping sweat. My hair sticks to my forehead and neck. Moisture runs over every inch of my chest. Even my shorts are soaked.
I grab a towel from the closet, wipe myself down, then toss it in the laundry bin. Grabbing my bag, I down more water and shove the protein bar down my throat, then slip my shirt over my head and head for the door. Just like coming down here, I take the stairs back to my apartment, using the time for my cool down.
When I’m back in my apartment, I go to my room and grab some more clothes, then quietly step out and head for the guest bath so I don’t wake Lily. My clothes are stripped and in a pile on the floor, and I step under the hot spray, allowing the jets to ease my exhausted muscles. The scent of my body wash replaces the stench of sweat as I scrub the sticky grime away, then do the same to my hair.
The water shuts off, and I step out of the closed-in shower, grabbing a towel from the linen closet and towel off. I hear a knock at my door before I finish pulling on my jeans, so I snatch my henley from the sink. The pounding starts again before I’m two steps out the door. “Bro, my girl is asleep,” I bellow at the door, assuming it’s Henry coming to make sure I’m alive since last we spoke, I told him I was going out on my bike. The fucker never calls before he shows up. “If your impatient ass…” My threat falls off when I swing the door open and meet big blue eyes, red and puffy from crying.
The look on my baby girl’s face hurts my soul. I’ve always tried to ensure she has no reason to do anything but smile, and I hate that I’m the cause of her betrayed expression. At this moment, she’s not my little Casey bear who believes her Daddy can do no wrong.
“How long?” Her voice cracks, but she keeps her head high and eyes on me.
“Come inside, Case.” I step aside, but she makes no effort to move. She folds her arms over her chest, tilting that chin higher. I lift my brow. It doesn’t need to be said. She knows how I feel about airing dirty laundry for everyone to hear. But I say it anyway. “You can come inside, and we can talk, or you can stand there all day, but I will not discuss anything in a doorway. The choice is yours.” She chews her cheek as she steps around me.
The door shuts, and I walk into the living room. It’s like déjà vu. Same scene, different woman. Just like last night. She glares at me with glowing blue eyes. “How. Long?”
“Use your words, Casey. If you want to know something, ask me in full sentences.” She knows the rules, and while she may be an adult, this is my home. Besides, grown or not, I will always expect her to be clear about what she wants.
She glances at the floor for a moment, then meets my eyes again. Another unspoken rule. Look me in the eye. I treated her like a princess growing up. Catered to her as much as I could, and not nearly as much as I wanted to. But I taught her to handle herself in a world ruled by men. It wasn’t easy. She’s painfully shy more often than not, and she’s got so many insecurities I’ve never been able to get her to open up about. So, I’m not sure the lessons did much good. But her standing here right now, ready to confront me, tells me something stuck. “How long have you been lying to me about sleeping with my best friend? About mom? About everything? Because last night, it felt like I had no clue who my dad was.”
I hate she feels that way. Parenting isn’t easy. No matter what support system you have—how much solicited and unsolicited advice you receive—you learn on the job. I have always tried to be open with Casey to a point. But I had a line—the same line I draw with everyone. My business, my relationships, and my sex life are just that—mine.
That said, I would’ve told her months ago about Lily if shit hadn’t gone to hell.
Her mom? Yeah… I don’t know if that conversation was ever something I would’ve had if I could have avoided it. Who the hell wants to tell their kid their mom is a slut? And now I realize she’s also fucking crazy.
I hate that Henry was right.
Dear God, did I endure her beyond the neon warning signs because I hated he was right?
Fuck. Yes, I think I did.
It appears I deserved every minute of misery I caught from her.
But one thing is certain. “I never lied to you, Casey.”
When her hand flies out with an exaggerated scoff, I sit on a stool and get comfortable.
Like I said: same scene, different woman.
But, like I’ve done since she was little, I don’t cut her off. I want her to say what she feels—to speak her mind.
Then I’ll speak.
“An omission is still a lie. You were sleeping with my best friend for… Well, I don’t know how long because you haven’t answered me. You pretended not to like her.” I lift a brow, knowing that was not what I did. Casey and I never discussed Lily one way or another. Indifference, even if feigned, was what I projected at best, and that is not the same as dislike.
But I don’t interrupt. Not yet.
“And she pretended to be my friend so she could be close to you. She never cared for me. It was an act for your benefit, but I guess I should’ve known that. I’m the nerdy little girl no one is interested in. She’s the exotic bombshell everyone wants.”
My lips thin as she swipes her tears, and I wonder where in the actual fuck did she come up with that. Casey is quiet and reserved at times. But does my kid really not see how special she is?
Something ticks in my brain. An itch I can’t scratch.
