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Desert Stone Fitness was a highly reviewed gym in town. It had all the bells and whistles. An indoor pool and an indoor track on the second floor. It even had a boxing ring smack dab in the center of the large room with all the workout equipment surrounding it. It also provided many classes such as yoga, spin, self-defense, karate, boxing, judo, jiu-jitsu, Pilates, and Zumba. The gym literally had everything. And because of that, it was crazy busy.
With my gym bag hanging off my shoulder, I made my way to the women’s locker room to lock up my stuff. I’d chosen to wear long purple athletic leggings and a matching racerback top covered by a black, slim fit, zip-up athletic jacket with thumb holes. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, put my earbuds in, grabbed my water bottle and phone, then headed out. There was a designated area for stretching on the first floor by the boxing ring. I got stretched and warmed up there first, then went upstairs to the track. It was a mile-long oval track that circled and overlooked the gym below.
I set my water bottle in one of the cubbies for personal items on the wall next to the stairs, selected my running playlist on my phone, and picked a lane on the track.
I’d started running four months ago, slowly building up my endurance. I had read somewhere once that exercise in general was therapeutic for the mind. It either gave your mind a break from the stress or allowed you time to really work through it. The former was true for me most of the time.
Running allowed me to free myself of the pain my memories caused. Nothing else existed as I pushed forward, my muscles burning, lungs expanding, endorphins soaring. If I were to have an addiction, it would be running, and it was one I was guilty of pushing past my limits with. Because some days were worse than others and an hour or two of freedom just wasn’t enough.
I ran for three hours before I cooled down by walking the last quarter mile back to my water bottle. My workout clothes were drenched with sweat and there was nothing more I wanted than to take my jacket off. I was seriously considering shedding it for a minute. Then I looked around at all the people and my insecurities won. I settled for just unzipping it.
* * *
After the gym, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up ingredients. I might have gone a little overboard with how much I bought. But I convinced myself that it was okay. I did have the whole weekend of nothing to do.
As soon as I got home, I put my perishable ingredients away and took a long shower. I decided to put on a pair of jean shorts. I had no plans of leaving the house for the rest of the day. I chose to pair it with a black tank, then made my way to the kitchen, where I spent a good chunk of the afternoon.
My kitchen turned into a war zone, or at least it looked like a flour bomb had gone off. Patches of flour and sugar were scattered on the counters. Some had even sprinkled on the tile floor. Mixing bowls, whisks, measuring cups, cookie sheets, and pans filled my sink. Every surface of my kitchen was filled with cooling baked goodies. I’d made two dozen cookies, a pan of gooey brownies, a dozen blueberry muffins, lemon bars, and key lime bars. It looked like I was ready to have a bake sale.
What had I been thinking?
I hadn’t. That was the point.With a heavy sigh, I started cleaning up.
I was washing the last dirty dish when my doorbell rang. My heart immediately started racing with fear. I quickly dried my hands with a dish towel as I exited the kitchen into the living room. Barefoot, I padded my way to the front door and peered through the peephole to find Colt, my neighbor, standing outside.
“One second!” I shouted and quickly grabbed a zip-up hoodie from the pile of laundry I’d placed on the couch. I had planned on folding it after dinner tonight while I settled down to watch TV.
Once my hoodie was on, I looked down at my ankles and cringed. I didn’t have time to cover them up with pants. Praying that he wouldn’t notice, I unlocked my front door. “Hey,” I greeted him with a smile and saw that he was holding a stack of mail.
“Hi.” He smiled back. I watched as his smile grew the longer he stared at me. “Were you baking?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you know?”
He chuckled. “You have flour on your face.”
Heat scorched my cheeks. Using my sleeve, I wiped at my face. “Did I get it?”
He shook his head, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh at me, which made me flush even more. “Your forehead,” he mumbled. I wiped there too, and he nodded.
“Thank you. What’s up?”
“We got some of your mail,” he said, holding it out to me. “Are you going to Copper Mountain?”
I took the mail from him and before I could question how he would know that, my eyes fell on the top envelope. It was from Copper Mountain High School addressed to Shiloh Pierce. “Yeah. I registered there for my senior year.”
“My brother Creed and I go there,” he said.
“Oh.”
“If you want, I can show you around before class starts Monday morning.”
That was sweet of him to offer. It would be the first time I’d be starting a new school without knowing anyone and without Shayla by my side. “I might take you up on that.”
At my response he smiled brightly and my heartbeat picked up a beat. “So what were you baking?”
It took me a second to comprehend what he was asking. “Oh, uh.” I felt my cheeks getting hot again. As I stared at Colt sheepishly, I got an idea. “Do you and your brothers like cookies, brownies, and such? Because I may have made enough to fill a bakery and there’s no way I could eat it all.”
His eyebrows rose. “We’re growing boys. Of course we do.”
