Page 38 of His Reckoning

Kayla glances around the room.

“Well,” she says, brushing her hair back from her face, “I should probably actually finish a workout instead of standing here, arguing with you.”

“That would be productive.”

She rolls her eyes lightly and walks over to the stretching mats near the mirror.

I move to the ground to do push-ups, but my attention shifts again back to Kayla.

I watch in the mirror as she lowers herself onto the mat and stretches one leg out in front of her before moving to the other. She leans forward slowly, reaching for her toes.

Her breathing is still slightly uneven from the run.

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the treadmill cooling down.

After a moment, she speaks again. “So, is this your normal late-night routine?”

“Sometimes.”

“When you can’t sleep?”

“Yes.”

She sits upright and switches to stretching the other leg.

“What keeps you up?” she asks.

“Work,” I reply in between push-ups, which is sometimes true.

“That sounds like the least surprising answer possible.”

“It’s usually accurate.”

She tilts her head slightly, studying me through the mirror. “Does it help?”

“What?”

“The working out.”

“Most of the time.”

“And the rest of the time?”

I push off the ground until I’m kneeling then shrug. “You run longer.”

She smiles faintly at that. “Fair.”

Kayla shifts positions again, stretching her arms over her head this time.

“Running helps me think,” she says.

“About what?”

“Books.”

“That sounds like work.”

“It is.” She exhales slowly. “But it’s supposed to be the fun kind.”