Page 34 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

Not exhausted men collecting overtime while staring at their phones.

He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes.

The truth was simple.

If he could’ve chosen anybody to stand between him and the world, he would’ve chosen Cassidy.

But he wasn’t an option.

…in any capacity.

Xander

By the time Xander finished dinner, he was so full he could barely move.

The butter noodles sat heavy in his stomach along with the two sautéed chicken breasts.

He shouldn’t’ve eaten both, but the first piece had tasted too good to leave the second, especially after not eating all day.

Now he regretted it.

He leaned against the kitchen island with one hand over his stomach and groaned.

“Good job, Lane,” he muttered. “Real disciplined.”

He was supposed to be shedding a little weight, not for appearance, but just trying to live healthier. Nothing dramatic. He wasn’t about to become a vegetarian or take some prescription shots, but he wanted to develop better habits.

The problem was he wasn’t used to sitting around the house all day. He loved to comfort eat, so getting out and moving around helped to eliminate that.

On his rare days off, he usually went somewhere. Grocery store, flea market, bookstore or the gym. Somewhere. He liked driving himself around with music playing or a good audiobook.

Now, the idea of dragging security through a damn produce aisle while they stared over his shoulder at his selections would be as miserable as it sounded.

He didn’t trust them anyway, so the next day he’d stayed home and did a bunch of senseless crap.

He’d worked on the giant jigsaw puzzle consuming half his dining table. Caught up on a few episodes of a crime series he’d started months ago, cleaned out his refrigerator and pantry, then reorganized his cabinets.

The only highlight in his day was visiting Devyn and Luke.

Now here he was back home again, stuffed full of noodles and anxiety.

He sighed as he turned off a couple of lights—too afraid to make it completely dark—and pushed himself upstairs.

“A little cardio might make me feel better.”

The home gym overlooked the front of the property through floor-to-ceiling windows.

Usually he loved the room, however, tonight it felt too exposed. But since there were guards in the front and back, he fought his fear, turned on the treadmill, and started walking.

He gradually increased the pace, moving briskly until his Under Armour shirt started sticking to his back.

He breathed deep through his nose and tried to keep his mind from wondering. Loud rock music often helped with that, but he wanted to be able to hear if one of the guards hollered out or rang his doorbell.

After twenty minutes, he was ready to stop, until he glanced down at the soft pudge pushing at his waistband and cranked up the speed again.

Forty-five sweaty minutes later, he stepped off the treadmill breathing hard but feeling very accomplished.

He grabbed his towel and wandered toward the back windows to check outside before showering.