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It feels good to be back in the gym. When Quinn told me to go, I wasn’t sure if she was serious at first, but one of the many reasons I love her is because she gets me.

It likely helped that I didn’t go to the gym to literally run away this time, but she gets that I need to work out to maintain my body. The gym is also my time to clear my mind.

However, that won’t be happening this time. I don’t think any amount of running or lifting weights could clear my mind of the last two days.

“Glad to see you can still follow directions, Ashcroft.”

Who the hell does he think he is, saying that in front of my wife?

I turn up the speed on the treadmill and grit my teeth, the accelerated pace doing nothing to wipe my anger or the confusion I feel away.

I thought coming to this retreat was going to be about me and Quinn. I expected it to be a little silly, and it has been that as well, but I didn’t anticipate that it would flip my entire world upside down.

I suppose it was already flipping, and I was too stupid to realize it before it was too late. Had I, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now. I wouldn’t be feeling so many…goddamn fucking feelings.

I up the speed on the treadmill again, my feet pounding against the belt. I forgot my earbuds and didn’t want to turn on the TV, so I’m running in silence. Only my breathing and steady thumps from my feet hitting the moving conveyor fill the air.

My arms pump, and my breathing increases as my body gets more exhausted. Every time my chest rises, I think of Quinn’s sharp intakes of air when I did something she liked. The way she responded to praise, how she came. Her body trembling and shaking, coming all over my hand, all while looking at him—my past love who worked with me to bring my wife to an orgasm I’d neglected to give her alone in…

The familiar feeling of failure and shame fill my gut, and I grunt, moving to up the speed again. But a large hand comes out of nowhere and pulls the red emergency cord.

The treadmill abruptly stops, and my coordination is thrown. I stumble, and my exhausted body doesn’t react in time to keep me from tripping forward.

The world around me moves as I fall. I throw my arms out in an attempt to break my landing, but strong arms hold me up.

“Jesus, Noah. Where are your fucking reflexes?”

Beck. I’d know that angry voice anywhere.

I’m hauled upward onto the stationary belt, and I huff to catch my breath, drops of salty sweat dripping into my eyes and burning them. I shove his hands off me and grab the small towel from the machine, wiping my face and chest as I step down to face him.

“Trying to murder me now?”

Beck scoffs. “No, but you can say thank you. Because it looked like you were about to pass the fuck out.”

“I’m fine,” I pant.

He pulls the bottle of water I brought with me from the cupholder and hands it to me. “You’re as red as a tomato and can hardly breathe. I beg to differ.”

I take the bottle, but I don’t drink from it. “What are you, my dad?”

Beck crosses his arms over his chest. “You already have one of those. How is the old man, by the way? Still pushing you so hard to be the best you feel compelled to exhaust yourself every day at the gym?”

My eyes narrow. “What’s your issue?”

“Me?” He points to himself. “I have no issue.”

“It sure seems like you have one. I thought we worked this crap out between us.”

“So our past is crap to you? That’s nice to know.”

I growl in frustration, pulling at my hair. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

We stare each other down, and I’m pulled back to high school, to the last time we spoke.

Beck had been starry-eyed, hopeful about a future together, talking about coming out to our friends, our families, eventually our teams. He thought long distance would work, that everything would be fine. I wasn’t so sure. Not even close.