“God,” I groan, collapsing to the mats when I finish the first set.
He laughs, but I know my quads will never be the same.
Mostly because I’m definitely adding it into the rotation.
I recover, power through a second—and third—set then make my way over to the bike. I push my cardio and my legs to the limit, generally doing what Smitty accused me of avoiding earlier—getting ready for the season.
The team has had some time to rest and recover.
Now we’re gearing back up.
Sawyer grins as Smitty attempts another one of his exercises but doesn’t otherwise engage with our wombat-fearing teammate. Instead, he snags a towel and moves to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water fortified with electrolytes before hopping on the bike next to mine. “What are you doing after this?” he asks, taking a long swig. “Want to grab a beer?”
No.
I want to go to Harper’s shop, make sure she’s feeling okay.
But the intensity with which I want exactly that has me grinding my teeth together and shoving down that urge.
I still don’t want to get a beer though.
I want to go home and mope and think about how fucked up my real family is and how I can’t let that fucked-up-ness taint the bright light that is Harper.
I want to go home and drink myself into an early bedtime where I don’t dream of her.
Unfortunately, neither of those will happen.
My family will eventually fuck shit up.
And I will sure as hell dream of Harper—I haven’t had a night without her haunting my dreams, not since I woke up next to her and knew I couldn’t ever have her.
Not truly.
“Leo?” Sawyer presses, swiping at his face and smirking over at me. “Or should I call you, Ricky?”
“You do and you die,” I mutter.
“Now you’ve gone and dared me.”
“Except I know your secret, remember?”
His rhythm falters, just for a second. “You were as drunk as I was.”
“And yet…” I hold his gaze so he knows I’m serious. “I remember everything.”
“God you’re annoying.”
“Takes one to know one.”
He scowls but doesn’t comment further.
And I refocus us on the conversation at hand as I lie, “No time for beers. I have plans tonight.”
“With your woman?”
I shrug. “Who else?”
Because he doesn’t ask which woman.
