My stomach bottomed out as I stared at a picture of Anastasia on the school playground. She looked so happy as she kicked her feet out in front of her on the swing. Just below it was a message. My jaw clenched as I read the words from Frankie.
You can’t ignore me forever.
3
EMERY
The ceiling to my room was just as dark as it had been every morning since Carson’s death. The night before he passed away had been the last night I’d slept in. Ever since then, I was up before the sun like clockwork.
Maybe it was the stress of the business. Or perhaps it was being a single parent. Or maybe something broke in me the day he left this world, and I was never going to be the same.
I grabbed the pillow that lay on Carson’s side of the bed and dropped it over my face. I took in a few stifled deep breaths and squeezed my eyes shut as if I could physically will myself to sleep. But fifteen minutes later, I was still awake.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to the shadows in my room as I pulled the covers off my body and moved to sit up. If I wasn’t going to sleep, I might as well get my daily workout out of the way.
I sucked in my breath as my feet landed on the cool wood flooring. I hurried over to my bathroom, where I turned on the lights, squinting until I grew accustomed to the brightness. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I was in the process of putting my hair up into a ponytail as I walked back out into my room.
I located my exercise shorts and bra in the top drawer of my dresser. I slipped out of my pajama set and into my clothes. With my socks and tennis shoes on, I turned off all the lights in my bathroom and bedroom and made my way out into the hall.
I passed by Timothy’s room. Thank goodness it was still dark. I loved my son, but I wasn’t quite ready to be mom.
Just as I got to the room that I’d converted into a gym, I paused. Light was coming through the cracks between the door and frame. My hand lingered on the handle as I contemplated what I was going to do.
I didn’t have to peek inside to know who was in there. Just last week Noah came out of the gym as I was going in. I didn’t care that he wanted to use it. After all, the equipment had been expensive, and I liked that it was getting used. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about being in the same room as him.
Would it be weird?
I squinted as I stared at the door. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Noah wasn’t in there. Maybe I’d just left the light on last night. I quietly turned the handle and pulled open the door so I could peek through the crack.
My stomach flip-flopped when my gaze landed on Noah. He was sitting at the bench in front of the wall of mirrors. He had his elbow resting on his knee and was slowly and methodically lifting and lowering a dumbbell. My gaze drifted from his arm to his shoulders and then to his very muscular back. His shirtless muscular back.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly very dry.
I knew I should walk away. My suspicions had been confirmed so there was no other reason for me to continue to stand here, staring at him. But my body didn’t want to obey my mind. I just stood there, staring like an idiot.
Suddenly Noah’s gaze was on me as he stared at me through the mirror in front of him.
I cursed and jumped back, away from the crack in the door. Thankfully, my body had enough sense not to slam the door shut—because that would have only confirmed what Noah was most likely suspecting; that I had been staring at him.
Not wanting to stand out in the hall and further his suspicions, I pulled the door open the rest of the way and walked in as confidently as I could. Noah had turned his attention back to his bicep, but when I neared, he looked at me once more through the mirror.
“Morning,” I said, nodding in his direction.
He returned the nod. “Morning.” His voice was deep and raspy.
Thankfully, he didn’t say anything more. His gaze dropped back down to his arm, and I was able to pass by without another interaction.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge near the treadmill. I cracked the lid and took a few sips before replacing the cap and setting the bottle in the cupholder. After I grabbed a clean hand towel from the folded stack on the shelf next to the fridge, I started the treadmill at an easy speed.
I walked for ten minutes before I used the treadmill to stretch. I tried not to notice, but Noah had moved away from the dumbbells and was now sliding weights onto the bar in the squat rack. I dropped my gaze to the dash on the treadmill, scolding myself for looking. After slipping my earbuds in, I pressed on the up arrow to increase the speed of the belt until I was at a good jogging speed.
I lost myself in my music. My playlist was a strange compilation of nostalgic tunes from my childhood and random songs I’d heard on the radio. My feet pounded at a rhythmic pace, grounding me in the moment. All my thoughts from this morning, including the confusion I felt from seeing Noah in the gym, faded away.
It was just me and the machine.
I was sweating and panting as I completed my fifth mile. My legs were numb as I pressed the down arrow and the belt slowly dropped in speed. Once I was at a walking pace, I grabbed the hand towel and wiped the sweat off my forehead and neck. I took in some deep breaths as I turned the treadmill off and stepped down.
Noah was in the middle of a squat set. His gaze was focused forward, his legs exploding with power as he moved.
