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He wouldn’t hide from her, would he? No, he was much tougher than she—he’d face his demons, not run away. She moved back to the front door. She wouldn’t venture upstairs—that’d be too much like trespassing. Looking around on this level? Only visiting. She rolled her eyes at her stupid logic, turning to exit, when a faint sound arrested her step. Downstairs. She knew from her earlier tour that the basement contained the laundry, garage, and gym. Maybe he was down there working on something.
She tiptoed down the stairs, thankful they didn’t creak to give her away. The noise came louder now—a clanking sound, like a machine. She peered round the corner and saw him on the far side of the room, straining against heavy weights, determination on his face as he held the barbell then released it. Sweat had stained his T-shirt dark blue, but the smell was oddly inoffensive. It just smelled like hard work. She watched, fascinated, as he completed a set, unable to ignore the muscles in his arms and legs that said this workout was nothing new. Nothing wannabe about this tough guy indeed. He paused to bend down to take a swig of water.
“Uh, Dan?”
He ignored her.
Hurt swathed her chest. He moved in front of a mirror, balancing on something like half a large ball, pushing off to one side in a series of lunges. She blinked. He looked superhero fit.
She stepped forward. “Dan?”
He met her gaze in the mirror and stumbled, turned, wincing as he rubbed his knee. “Sarah.” He pulled out earbuds.
“I’m so sorry, Dan! Are you okay?”
He looked so focused still, like she was an unpleasant intrusion in his day. “I’m fine.”
Her throat closed. His voice held an edge she’d never heard before.
“What do you want?”
“I, uh, just wanted to say you were right, and I’m really sorry for before.”
A beat. “Okay.”
“Well, um, sorry for interrupting.” He obviously didn’t want her around, but she gave a small smile anyway. “Maybe catch you later?”
His lips pushed up on one side, as if reluctant. “Maybe.”
She turned and hurried up the stairs, half expecting to hear him call after her, wholly disappointed when the sound of his exercising resumed instead.
* * *
Dan exhaled,his muscles protesting the sudden onslaught of intensity after weeks of inattention. After his earlier clash with Sarah, he’d tried to fish in his favorite section of dark lake, but the quiet setting had done little to ease his frustration. The patience people knew him for both on and off the ice had just about run out.
He rubbed his eyes. She’d been right about one thing. He hadn’t slept well, unwanted dreams interspersing with rotten memories and regrets. But it didn’t change the fact that bemoaning the past seemed to be Sarah’s default position, so when she’d started—again—he’d snapped. The only one who could really sort her out was God.She’s all Yours, God. I’m over it. W-a-a-y over.Nope. Even though at times he’d found her strangely attractive, he couldn’t afford to get caught in her emotional mess. He had enough of his own stuff to deal with.
Two biteless hours later, he’d packed up and headed back, wondering how to fill the rest of the day. The sunlight flashing off the basement windows reminded him he’d let his training slide, too busy enjoying his vacation. Off season meant building endurance and strength for a good fitness baseline come training camp in September. Intense workouts always demanded full attention and might prove a better way to clear his head.
Ten minutes of warming up on the exercise bike had led to isometric exercises: squats, shoulder rises, leg extensions, and his favorite, the plank. His trainer’s go-to exercise always accompanied his motto: pain is just weakness leaving the body.
Dan’s lips curved, recalling a few of the choice comments his teammates had made about that particular mantra. He didn’t mind it so much. The innate patience that usually served him so well was excellent for these trials. Just hold position, stay focused, and push yourself to keep going, even when you felt the burn, even when it hurt.
His traitorous mind flicked to next door, and he scowled. Was God trying to say something to him? It wouldn’t be the first time God had shown the analogies between exercise and spirituality. But if He was, well, Dan would rather use the weights to push aside the heaviness caused by his next-door neighbor.
He wandered upstairs to the kitchen, wolfing down two bananas before noticing a plate of cookies on the dining table. Macadamia and white chocolate. She’d paid attention to his comments the other day. The attached note readPlease forgive mewith a smiley face next to the name. He lifted off the plastic wrap. They smelled really good. Well, maybe he could try just one.
He forced himself to stop at three. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach probably had major health issues, but they sure knew what they were talking about. It worked. He felt far more forgiving now. Dan smiled ruefully. He was such a sucker.
He glanced at the note again. Stilled. His words from the morning marched across his brain, trampling him with guilt. Sarah had revealed the vulnerable, dark spaces of her heart, and he’d all but stomped on them this morning. Forgiveness? Sarah didn’t really need his forgiveness—but he probably needed hers.
He foundSarah slowly swinging on the hammock, staring up at the pines, a closed laptop on a chair beside her. Her bright hair tumbled around her shoulders, the green tank top contrasting with her creamy skin.
“Hey.”
“Oh!” She eased upright. “Hi.”
“Uh, about before—”
