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“Not for an old gal like me.”
I frown. “You’re not that old, Aunt Suzie.”
She chuckles. “I appreciate the optimism. Now, what are you doing with the rest of your day?”
“I’m going to head to the gym to get a workout in, then come home and veg out on the couch for the rest of the night. I have to be at work early tomorrow.”
“I’ll leave you to it then. Let’s chat next week, okay?”
“Definitely. You take care of yourself.”
“I always do. Bye, sweetie.”
We hang up and I sit for a moment, melancholy that my aunt won’t even consider leaving my uncle. I just want her to be happy.
Giving my head a shake, I head into my bedroom to change into some workout clothes.
One of the perks of being a trainer for the Kingsmen is that I’m allowed to use the gym when the team isn’t training. So once I change, I head down to my car to take the short drive over to the facility, looking forward to pushing Lee Burrows far from my mind.
Nine
Lee
Idrop the weights on the floor and heave out a sigh.
The trainers would likely bark at me for being here and overdoing my workouts, but I need to get rid of this tension filling every one of my veins since my altercation with Shayna.
It’s a pattern from my youth. After my dad died, any time my mom would slip into a depressive episode, I used physical exhaustion to clear my head and help me sleep.
Maybe I have my mom’s mental illness to thank for me becoming a professional athlete. Perhaps if I hadn’t had an absentee mother for the majority of my childhood, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Hell, she raised, and I use that word loosely, two professional athletes.
I chuckle at that thought and head over to the treadmills. Cardio usually does the trick. It doesn’t take long before I go from a jog to a full-out run. I take my job seriously, and being at the peak of my physical fitness is a big part of the job. I’m the quarterback, the captain of the team, which means I set the example for the other players.
Ten minutes into my run, my shirt is soaked through with sweat. I glance up at my reflection in the mirror and lose my footing. My other foot tries to recover so I don’t fall, but I’m too preoccupied. I end up running too fast and falling right off—at Shayna’s feet. Her arms are crossed and there’s a sour look on her face.
I stand to hopefully regain some dignity. A quick look at her in the mirror as I turn off the treadmill shows her biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. I lift my shirt and dry off my sweat-covered face and her smile quickly diminishes. Sexual tension fills the large space.
“What are you doing here?” she snips, stomping off to the treadmill at the very end of the row of machines.
I decide to act as though nothing is amiss with the two of us. Like she’s just the new trainer for Kingsmen. Maybe if I stop focusing on the past, we’ll eventually move into the future on better footing.
“Working out. Same as you, I imagine.”
Her aqua eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
Is she trying to bait me? Well, if she is, it’s not going to work. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs and steps up on the treadmill. Her ass looks amazing in a snug pair of yoga pants. “You have a sure spot on the team. You don’t need to put in the extra work.”
“I’m where I ambecauseI put in the extra work.” I’ve witnessed too many athletes who think they’ve made it and don’t need to do anything other than the bare minimum. And then they get cut the next season, or traded.
Xavier Greene is the example I try to emulate.
I was the number two quarterback on the team until he retired, and even though he left at the top of his game, I witnessed firsthand how much harder he worked with each passing year just to keep up the standard he’d set for himself.
Retirement is an inevitability for me, I know. But at twenty-nine, I’m hoping to push off Father Time for at least a few more years—minimum.
Our eyes meet in the mirror again and something passes between us—a mix of longing and regret—and I get the distinct impression she wants to put everything behind us. Or wishes she could, maybe.
