“Are the weakest link.”
He spins on his heel.
“Goodbye.”
The word echoes around the empty gym.
And for the first time in weeks, I feel something like panic twist through me.
Not because of the job.
Because of her. What the hell am I going to tell Elena? She’s going to feel awful. Even though this wasn’t her fault.
I don’t go home right away.
I can’t.
Damien firing me wasn’t exactly a shock—the guy’s been waiting for the chance since the day I showed up with biceps bigger than his entire personality—but the timing?
The timing hits hard.
Elena walking out just before it happened…
Yeah. It stings.
So instead of heading to the train, I keep walking.
Past the traffic.
Past the honking cabs.
Past the overpriced juice place she likes.
My feet take me to Central Park without me realizing it.
The air is cold enough to bite my nose.
Joggers glide past. Dog-walkers shuffle along. A couple is arguing about subway directions.
Normal New York life.
And me?
I’m just standing there like a man who has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do next.
I sit on a bench.
Put my elbows on my knees.
Stare at the bare trees stretching toward a gray winter sky.
What am I going to do?
I was barely scraping by as it is.
Mom’s medical bills.
My own rent.
