If I run hard enough, maybe I’ll outrun the part of me that still wants to walk down the hallway right now and knock on her door.
That part is loud today. Louder than it’s been since I stepped on this ship.
Yesterday at the zip line, I came up the stairs with my group, and the first thing I saw was her on the edge. Frozen and clutching onto the harness as though it was the only thing holding her up.
Every cell in me was screaming to go to her, but I made myself stand there and watch her instead. I told myself that she’d figure it out, the same way she’d been figuring everything else out, and the best thing I could do was stay out of her way.
Unfortunately, when she lost her balance, my body moved before my brain caught up. I caught her, and the second she was in my arms, any pretense that I was here to give her space disappeared.
When we reached the bottom of the line, I tried not to make a big deal of it, but I could see it in her face. She was proud of herself, and I was proud of her.
A question still lingers for me.
Would she have done it if I hadn’t shown up?
That’s something we’ll never know because I didn’t give her that opportunity. I didn’t let her believe in herself long enough to figure it out.
That’s the part of yesterday that won’t leave me alone.
I’ve known what I’ve needed to do for a long time; the zip line was just the latest piece of evidence. Honey doesn’t need me showing up in every room she’s in. She needs space to figure outwho she is when no one is watching her, and every time I plant myself in front of her, I’m taking that opportunity away.
That’s what I’ve been doing this entire time. Trying to fix it and hoping that she’ll be happy I solved all her problems.
Fucking idiot.
My feet pound the belt, and the numbers tick up.
Nine miles.
Ten.
I’m cranking the speed up again when I realize I’m not alone.
Drew’s at the bench press, drinking from his water bottle.
I tip my chin toward him, surprised he’s here. It’s peak time for dinner. Surely, he’d want to be out at one of the fancy restaurants with Bella. I certainly wouldn’t be here .
Give her space.
That’s the mantra I’m trying out for the first time in my entire life, and it’s so much harder than I thought it would be.
Still, I try.
I push through to fifteen miles, and only then do I let myself stop. The belt slows under me, my legs shaking as I grip the handles. Sweat is dripping into my eyes, my shirt is stuck to my chest, and I'm breathing heavily.
Still don’t feel any better.
I grab my towel off the rail, wipe my face down, and step off. Heading toward the free weights, I pick up a pair of dumbbells and find a clear stretch of mat. With every set, I go heavier. Then heavier, taking progressive overload to the limit. My legs are already trashed from the run, but I keep going, because the burn in my quads is the only thing competing for my brain's attention right now, and I need it to win if I’m ever going to have a chance at being successful in the NFL.
I can’t keep trying to solve Honey’s problems like this.
By the third set, my form is going. I plant the weights on the floor.
“You good?” Drew asks, throwing me a clean towel.
I catch it and focus my attention on the fluffy fabric. “Yeah,” I say unconvincingly before wiping my face down with the towel.
By the time I’ve finished, Drew is sitting on the bench across from me, watching me with a raised brow.
