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“Does your girl have a friend?” Deacon asked.
Daniel wagged a finger. “Funny you say that. I was just getting around to that topic with my boy Theo here. Elena does have a friend or two, one of them being Miss Abigail Fitzgerald.”
I said nothing. What was there to say about Abby? We went to the same school. Our paths would cross. Friends would see her. Sightings would be reported. I didn’t want to hear it. Seeing her still didn’t feel natural or easy. And honestly, I was still pissed off enough to avoid her when I could.
I hadn’t returned her texts after our run-in at the diner. For one, she’d acted like a cunt, which I wasn’t down for. But also, I wasn’t sure there was anything to say, or if I wanted to hear anything else from her ever again. In my opinion, she’d said quite e-fucking-nough when I’d failed her ultimatum and she’d unceremoniously broken us after two years together.
So, yeah, I didn’t need to hear about Abby sightings. When I didn’t rise to Daniel’s bait, he and Deacon continued right along.
I drank my water.
Daniel slammed down his glass a couple minutes later. “Excellent weekend. Now, I have to shower the pussy off my dick and get myself to class. Jesus, I’m so behind, and it’s only week two.”
He pushed off the counter, leaving his dirty glass behind. In a move that was surprisingly responsible, Deacon placed it in the sink.
“How far did you run this morning?” he asked.
“Seven miles.”
His brows popped. “How early did you go out?”
“Six thirty. Like I said, you were dead to the world.”
He shook his head. “You know, you don’t have to keep going so hard now that you’re not wrestling.”
“My body needs it. I can’t tell it no.”
A long stare. Cluck of his tongue. Tragic headshake. Deacon judged where he had no room to be judging. “Pretty sure your body sent you a very loud and clear message in May, man. I heard it when I sat in the ER with you. No idea how you missed it.”
I froze. “We’re not talking about that.”
His head bowed. “Just giving you a reminder. You don’t need to push yourself so hard anymore.”
The scoff that came out of me was bitter. “Seven miles isn’t pushing myself. I think you know that. Don’t need a reminder anyway.” I swiped at my mouth, then my forehead. “I need to shower. I stink.”
It would probably take me a lifetime to forget the feeling of sitting in the ER with Deacon, thinking my heart was going to explode in my chest. Stress, they said. Arrhythmia, they said. Take it easy, they said. All I heard was a body I’d treated like a fucking temple had failed me.
In the shower, I felt it. The pressure mounting, tight in my chest. It still pissed me off, especially that Deacon had been there to see me like that. Scared and weak and vulnerable—and he would not let me forget it.
I still pushed myself because I was not scared or weak or vulnerable. I’d rid myself of some of the major stressors in my life. Now, my body needed to understand it wasn’t going to fail me again. That wasn’t an option.
Dry from my shower, awake from the seven miles I put in this morning, I grabbed my laptop, shoved it in my backpack, and set off to my first class.
Shit start to the week, with Deacon and Daniel getting in my face and my ex being thrust to the front of my mind. It was only Monday, though. Plenty of time to get better.
