Rescue You

by Elysia Whisler

  Stanzi’s skin had grown cool under Rhett’s hand. “We can walk back, if you want,” he said. “You ran more than two miles already.”

  Stanzi offered a weak smile. “Progress is progress, right?” She stood up and stretched. “And I will celebrate progress by running some more.”

  Rhett followed suit. “You going to wear your giant shirt?” He nodded at the tee stuffed in the back of her pants.

  She shook her head. “Nah.”

  “All right.” Rhett stripped his off, too.

  Stanzi giggled as they headed out of the park, back onto the sidewalk. “Hey, baby—” she mimicked a dude’s voice “—you running my way?”

  Rhett rewarded her attempt at humor with a laugh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his first two fingers.

  After he got a few steps ahead, he heard her mutter, “Can’t go wrong either way.” He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that, so he kept his second laugh to himself.

  By the time they made it back to the gym, Stanzi was drenched in sweat again. Rhett nodded toward the bakery across the street, which had been strategically situated between his gym and the one on the opposite corner that offered spin classes, resistance machines and every type of electronic exercise gadget on the market. “Let’s get some fuel.”

  Cinnamon, vanilla, coffee, chocolate and butter wafted out of the warm interior of the shop as Rhett held the door open. Stanzi stood there, a little smile on her lips.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Her smile deepened. “It’s just—” she swiped back the hair from her face that had gotten loose from her messy bun “—the last time I stood in front of this shop, I was miserable. I’d skipped the spin class on the corner and I felt depressed and defeated. I saw your gym across the street and I just stood here, staring, while some guy held the door for me.”

  “Déjà vu, eh?”

  “Yeah. Except this time I feel way different. Not perfect, but different.” Her blue eyes were brighter than the sky, her skin kissed by the sun and wind, and her body lit by a sort of glow that made Rhett want to throw her over his shoulder, carry her back to his house and toss her on his bed. If she asked, all of that would be done in a classy, romantic sort of way, but in his mind things were way more primal than that.

  “Get inside already.” Rhett nudged her foot with his. “And maybe put on your shirt. You’ll get cold in the air-conditioning.”

  “Oh!” She yanked it from her sweats and opened it up, slipping it over her head with a little bit of a struggle as she searched for the sleeves. She popped her head through, her hair full of flyaways, and marched forward. She ran smack into the chest of a blond guy, average height, well dressed, who was coming out the door. A blonde woman by his side scooted to the left, so she wouldn’t get run over. Between the hair, the clothes and the bland smiles, they looked like Malibu Barbie and her surfer date.

  “Sorry,” Stanzi said. Then her smile crumpled.

  “Connie!” The man’s eyes widened. “Is that you?”

  * * *

  Josh stepped back, to allow her inside. Constance entered the bakery, the sweet and spicy smells settling in her stomach like heavy dough. “Hi,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else. The sight of Josh, along with the woman from the park, made her skin go cold all over. Constance was glad she’d put her shirt on. Oh, my God. Had she put her shirt on before Josh saw her? Her hands ran over her midsection, an old habit she hadn’t performed in months.

  “Hi, I’m Rhett.” He stuck out his hand. They were all lined up by the pastry case, the glass shiny and showcasing its wares. The top row had a rustic cherry pie, a classic carrot cake with orange carrot icing decorations, blueberry muffins with giant domes and whoopie pies with oozing marshmallow filling. Constance suddenly wanted them all.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Constance knew her face had paled. “Rhett, Josh. Josh, Rhett.”

  Josh accepted Rhett’s handshake.

  Even though Constance had never considered Josh a small man, he didn’t look as large as he used to, next to Rhett.

  Josh’s hand tightened on his bakery bag, making a crumpling sound. “Nice to meet you.” His gaze settled on Rhett’s bare, ripped torso, a concentrated look on his face. Constance remembered that look. That was the look Josh got when a drunk at a bar tried to pick a fight with him, or when his boss asked Constance to dance at an office party. Didn’t like it, but wasn’t going to do anything about it, either.

  The obliques, Constance thought. That must be what Josh couldn’t look away from. Everything on Rhett’s torso was gorgeous. The big pecs, the anterior delts, the upper traps, the abs. But the obliques were something special. Ropy, and the way they disappeared into his shorts, almost like little arrows pointing the way to heaven...

  “Connie.” Josh’s voice sounded like he’d said her name a few times. “This is Jenna.” He motioned toward the woman next to him; she wore a silk tank top, a long skirt and an uncomfortable smile.

  “Hi, Jenna.” Constance extended her hand. Jenna brushed her fingertips. “We’ve met, remember? You’re the woman Josh was jogging with, that day in the park. Right?”

  Jenna blanched.

  Rhett laughed out loud. He pulled his shirt over his head. Several women, seated throughout the small bakery, looked disappointed.

  “You look great,” Josh said, ignoring her comment. His gaze toured her body as much as it had Rhett’s, but with a different expression. “What’ve you been doing?”

  “Little bit of everything.” Constance shifted her weight from foot to foot. There was a dispenser on the counter to take a number, and as more people entered the shop and the line got longer, she resisted the urge to grab one. She knew she was supposed to be polite and give Josh compliments and ask him questions, too, but words wouldn’t come. After the story she’d just told Rhett, seeing Josh and his girlfriend in real life was a strange sort of gift that she didn’t quite know what to do with. Here’s the guy who’s kept you from doing something you loved. Here’s the woman you were jealous of. What do you think of all that now?

  “Well, you look great.” Josh’s eyes traveled over her again. “How’s your sister?”

  “Excuse me.” Rhett pushed between Josh and Jenna, causing her to jump back, clutching at her collarbone. He snagged a number from the dispenser and held it up. “We’re hungry.”

  “Sunny’s fine,” Constance told Josh.

  “Great. That’s great.”

  Jenna pursed her lips together and shot Josh a dark look.An arm slipped around Constance’s waist. The light pressure wasn’t possessive, just an invitation. Constance contained her surprise and sank against Rhett’s chest. He was warm and damp and smelled like fabric softener.

  “Well.” Rhett stared down at Josh. “It was nice meeting you.”

  Josh’s gaze went toward the embrace, then back up to Rhett’s face. “Nice meeting you, too.” He turned to Constance, and his expression warmed. “Good seeing you again, Connie. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. You really do look great.”

  “I feel great. That’s what matters.”

  “Oh.” Josh’s forehead wrinkled. “Good. Good.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye, then.”

  Once they were gone, Rhett withdrew his arm and led her to a tall, round table in the corner by the window. It seated only two, with old-fashioned high stools. “Arm wrestle for the stool facing out?”

  Constance stroked her chin. “Take it. I don’t have the same need to have my back to the wall that you do, and I wouldn’t stand a chance at arm wrestling you. But I will fight you for who gets the coffee.” She nodded toward the coffee station: a row of cups, carafes and stirring sticks. You could pour while you waited, then pay when your number was called.

  They did Rock, Paper, Scissors and Rhett won.

  Constance
got the coffee—black for Rhett and a splash of milk for herself—then climbed on her stool and stared out at the Sunday crowd. Some were churchgoers, headed out to shop or eat after service. Others were dressed in fitness clothes and aimed for the gym on the corner. A few wore sweatpants and even pajamas, headed into the grocery store at the other end of the strip mall.

  “Sorry about that.” Rhett set their paper ticket on the table. It read 135.

  “You’re not sorry. You’re enjoying your win.” Constance’s pounding pulse was slowly coming down. Seeing Josh felt so much different than it had last time she was having trouble sorting through it. Last time, his classically handsome, slightly arrogant face had filled her with longing, and the sight of Jenna had made her feel sick. She’d gone home, eaten an entire bag of tater tots, then climbed into bed and binge-watched Psych for the rest of the day.

  This time, seeing Josh almost made her feel foolish. That’s who she gave up running for? That’s who she’d wanted to be?

  “No, I mean I’m sorry about pretending we were together,” Rhett said. “When I put my arm around your waist. I couldn’t help it.”

  Constance’s body grew warm thinking about it. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be possessive. I just wanted him to stop looking at you like that. And to shut up.” Rhett pulled the ticket toward him and started to roll it up into a cylinder.

  Constance laughed. “It’s not like he had anything to look at.” She held up the hem of her oversize T-shirt and stuck her legs out straight to display her sweaty, long pants.

  “He saw you with your shirt off.”

  She wrapped her arms around her chest. “Are you sure?”

  Rhett nodded. “Positive.”

  Constance waved a hand. “I don’t care.” Part of her was actually glad. I don’t know you anymore. Take that, Joshua Stoneford. You really don’t know me anymore.

  Rhett smiled. “That was kind of freaky, huh?” He tilted his head toward the door Josh had exited. “That we bumped into them.”

  “I was just thinking that.” After suffering her first public run and growing cold while talking to Josh, the coffee filled her insides like a warm hug. “But I’m so glad it happened. I can’t even imagine being with him now. He clearly only wanted to be with one version of me. When that side of me struggled, the fit runner who had it all together, Josh bailed. Went out and found himself a new Connie.”

  “One thirty-five!”

  Rhett unrolled his ticket and stood up. “Know what you want?”

  Constance eyed the pastry case. To her surprise, none of the sugary fare sounded appetizing anymore. The aromas coming from the savory section were like heaven, though. “The bacon, egg and spinach bites.” She nodded to the flourless muffins that came in a set of three.

  Rhett smiled. “You read my mind.”

  They got the same thing, though Rhett got two orders for himself. Constance refreshed their coffees while he got the muffins, and once they’d dug into their food he said, “So what made the fit runner Constance struggle? You said your dad was sick?”

  “He had a long, hard battle with cancer.” She glanced up, but Rhett didn’t flinch. “Josh didn’t exactly understand how I coped with that. In fact, he hated how I coped with that.”

  Rhett stuffed an entire muffin in his mouth and still managed to chew without any spilling out. “Which is how?”

  Constance nibbled at her second muffin. The eggs were creamy and the bacon salty and crisp. The spinach offered just enough vegetal tang to bring it all together. “I kind of shut down. While Dad was sick, I was consumed with taking care of him. Sunny helped as best she could but she’s so busy with the rescue—plus, she’s the younger daughter so doesn’t have as many duties. People might say that’s bullshit, but it’s not. As the eldest, his care was more on me than her, just as it was all our lives. When Daddy died, I didn’t cry.” Constance sipped at her coffee. “Josh really hated that I didn’t cry. Told me I was holding it all in. I said, ‘What do you expect? I was raised by a Vietnam veteran. I was never allowed to cry.’ Except I did cry. Every time I overate, or ate like crap—” she nodded at the pastry case “—I was crying. Whenever I missed a run because I was just too worn out or sad or getting too slow on the trail, I was crying. Josh told me I was just being lazy. Told me running would make me feel better if I just got off my ass and went. When he started running with that woman, Jenna, he said it was because who I was turning into wasn’t what he signed up for. He didn’t know me anymore.”

  All of Rhett’s body movements froze. A second later, he swallowed what he’d been chewing. He chased it with a long drink of coffee. “So that’s how you found out he was cheating on you? You found him running with her?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if he was cheating on me or not.” Constance shrugged. “He said he wasn’t, but it didn’t make any difference. Still doesn’t. When I found him running with her, I could literally see what it was that he loved most about me. And it wasn’t enough.”

  Rhett nodded thoughtfully.

  “I broke it off,” Constance admitted. “Everyone, including Sunny, thinks Josh dumped me. I just said we broke up and everyone figured he dumped me for that woman.” She shrugged. “I never corrected them.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t honestly think we ever loved each other. In hindsight. I guess in one way that woman saved me from a bad marriage.”

  “You’d have figured it out.”

  “Maybe.” Constance had thought about this before. “I’m a different person now. Weaker in some ways, stronger in others. But I see people more clearly now. I was pretty good at it before, but I’m even better now. Feeling what others are feeling. Guessing what they’re going to do before they do it. I see more details. Which can be debilitating, but also saves me from a lot of hurt.” Constance finished her food and slid her empty coffee cup to the edge of the table. “What about you? How did you deal with...things?”

  Rhett, who’d been staring out the window, shook himself. “Eh, I don’t know,” he said. “I was combative with my therapist. I hated taking the meds. I didn’t cry.” He let a beat pass before he smiled.

  Constance laughed as she crumpled up her napkin. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Not one bit.”

  The bakery had grown even more crowded since their arrival. Every available inch of space was now occupied by people sitting at the tables or the counter, standing in the line that wound out the front door or milling around, searching for a spot to settle. “C’mon.” Constance stood up. “Let’s go to my house. I owe you a massage.”

  * * *

  Stanzi had him lie faceup this time, and she worked his bad leg first. She started at the hip and worked her way down, massaging, stretching and rubbing cooling oil into his muscles that helped kill the pain and stiffness. Once she moved to the less painful side, Rhett felt himself starting to doze. He was aware of her in the back of his mind, when she moved up to his chest and arms, working his pecs and delts and the muscles around his ribs. Just when he thought he might slip away, she had him roll over, facedown, and started in on his back. Her hands were pleasantly cool on his skin, but warmed with her increasing pressure. Stanzi’s whole body flowed into her movements—her hands, her arms, her breath. The way she moved was kind of musical, with patterns, rhythm, repeats, a chorus. Nothing like the work he’d gotten as part of his PT. Nothing like anything, really.

  As much as Rhett wanted to pay attention to every little second of her therapy, as soon as he was on his face and her hands lit on him, he started to drift. She rubbed and rocked at the same time, which gave him the impression of being swaddled in a giant quilt.

  The last thing he remembered was wishing Stanzi could come over at night, before bed, and rock him to sleep. If he had her there, hands on his back, rocking and caressing him, h
e just might not hear the spiders in the corners, or the dust in the beams. He could sink away and not blink again until morning.

  When he did blink again, the room was still dim, lit only by the yellow glow of Stanzi’s electric candles. Enya floated out of the speakers. Stanzi sat on her rolling stool, a couple feet away, her back against the wall, her eyes closed. Her shoulders rose and fell slowly.

  Rhett sat up. As soon as the linens fell away, he felt cold. His skin was damp. So were the sheets. He swiped his forehead, which was clammy and cool.

  “Oh, you’re up.” Stanzi stretched her arms and arched her back. “You’ve been out awhile.”

  Rhett looked around the room for a clock, but there was none, and he’d stripped off everything, including his watch. He remembered the few massages he’d had at PT; the therapist had a ticking timer that she’d slap as soon as Rhett entered the room. After fifty minutes it would ding like someone’s order was up.

  “You were having night sweats.” Stanzi wheeled over next to the table. “Shaking a lot. I just let you ride it out. Kept a hand on you.”

  Rhett gathered the sheet around his waist and slid to the edge of the table. He sat there, thinking about her words. He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet. He wondered if there was anything she wasn’t telling him. Had he talked in his sleep? And what did she mean by shaking? Was it a little? Or a lot? Rhett wasn’t sure how to feel. Physically, he felt like when you’ve been sick, finally fall asleep, sweat it out and wake up knowing you’ve broken through and you’re going to make it.

  Mentally, he felt like he’d just fought his way out of a battle and successfully made it to the other side.

  “It’s your body’s way of healing,” she said. “Getting it all out, through sweat and vibration.”

  “Is that normal?”

  Stanzi took a while to answer. “It’s normal for you, at this point in your life.”