****
She’s running so fucking fast. I hate that I’m exhausted, that I couldn’t fall asleep or lose the part of my brain that beckons emotion. Life sure would be easier if I could just worry about her. I stay in the woods next to the path she runs every day. Well, usual days she’s merely jogging, not running. Today is different, Presley is on a mission. Her brown ponytail is slicked with sweat and she has her long-sleeved shirt tied around her waist. Only in a sports bra and leggings, she is flying through the forest. I’m not so worried about humans coming for her here, we’re in such a remote area that is unfamiliar. No, right now I’m worried about fucking bears, mountain lions, coyotes with babies, things with teeth. My arm is still sore, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it did last night. I forgot about the wounds when I rolled over in bed this morning and screamed out in pain. I wrapped it in a new bandage and took the pill the doctor gave me. As quick as Presley’s pace is now, when she turns around to run back to the trailhead, and town, she pounds the gravel even faster.
“Fuck,” I hiss, keeping up as best I can. I’m not on a trail like she is, I’m hopping tree roots, fallen trees, craggy rocks, and bramble bushes that would have cut the fuck out of me if I didn’t have on workout pants. Well, today I won’t have to find time to do cardio, I think. When she turns on the last fork to run the last mile, I branch off and head the other way to get to town. The Irish Pub is a gym from the hours of five in the morning until lunch, when the regulars show up. There’s a weight rack and a pull up bar, a treadmill that squeaks when you don’t run faster than seven miles per hour. This is where Presley will finish her fun. The owner, Gary, is sitting at the bar with a pint of beer when I blow through the door. I come here every morning. I throw up a hand to Gary as I pass.
“Good night, then?” he asks, like he does every morning.
I nod. “Looks like it’s still night for you,” I reply, nodding my head at his stout.
Gary smiles and his top lip disappears. “Well, you know what they say about the hair of the dog. Trying to kill last night’s beers with a new one.” He watches me carefully. “You’re already sweating, son.”
Pulling plates out of the janitor closet I begin loading the bar. Presley usually comes much later in the morning, so we never run into each other. I know we will today, though. “Yeah, well, I was watching Cops this morning.”
Gary grins. He likes dumb jokes almost as much as Presley. “What happened to your arm?”
I’m going to try to do my normal workout, because the stitches are sitting on a place on my arm that won’t stretch. Looking down, I rub it gently. “Jake’s dogs got ahold of me yesterday afternoon,” I say. Gary looks at me suspiciously. “I was there to buy a car, not steal one.”
“Those dogs are a vicious pair, aren’t they? Jake’s not going to have many customers if those dogs eat em’ all.”
“I agree. Though we don’t have any other options around here, do we? I need to head over there again to buy a truck.” I could take a cab and go to an actual car dealership down the road, but I don’t know how many made it after the recession. “I got a job at the bakery,” I say, changing the subject. There’s an enormous clock on the wall against the door that tells me I need to start running on the treadmill because Presley will be here soon.
Gary narrows his eyes. “Isn’t the new broad working there too? Why are they hiring all the new people?”
I bite my lip to hold back a snide comment. “Is that a job offer, Gary?” Even from across the room I see his face go ashen. Another man walks in the door and heads my way. It takes a few seconds for me to tick through my mental roll call and place the face. Roger Dunway lives in the main section of Gold Hawke, where Presley lives. He works at the grocery store sometimes, but his main job is a teller at the bank. Roger has broad shoulders and skinny legs. So, when he gives me a head nod and sits down at the lifting bench, I’m not surprised. Gary wanders over to greet him with more spirit while I turn my jog up to a run and really exhaust myself today.
“I don’t need any help,” Gary says, loud enough for me to hear him over the squeak. “If I ever do, I’ll come find you. Okay?” He does his best to look sincere, but that’s the thing with this place, I think everyone is wearing masks. The people who aren’t are just apathetic to us outsiders. Gold Hawke does not want newcomers, nor are they eager to integrate us into their lives. They think we aren’t here to stay.
I grin.
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” Gary replies.
He turns to look at the ground before chatting up Roger about an upcoming poker tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser for the town from what I’ve been told, but it never brings in money, because the only people who know about it are the people of the town who can’t afford to contribute.
Presley stumbles into the gym, covered and I do mean covered, in sweat. Her shirt is soaked. She lifts the hem to wipe her face and her abs flex and release as she pants to catch her breath. My gaze catches on Roger and then Gary. Gary is minding his own business, but Roger’s face changes and I see him sit up a little straighter, like a fucking peacock. Normal human man reaction, I tell myself. Not a threat. I breathe at a steady pace, looking as if I’m deep in my head, focusing on my running cadence. I keep my eyes forward on the mirror that has a long crack running down the center. I’m sure it happened when someone stumbled drunk into it on bar hours.
“Nate,” Presley says, standing next to the treadmill.
I act surprised to see her. “Hey, good morning.”
Her eyes crinkle in the corner as her gaze flicks to my arm. “How are you feeling today?”
“I told you yesterday. It was nothing,” I pant, keeping my pace quick, and exhales steady. “I’m fine, Presley.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine when I say her name. “What are you doing here?”
Her brows furrow. “I come here every morning. What are you doing here?”
Roger clears his throat and Gary greets Presley with more enthusiasm than I got. “Nate is in here every morning.”
Ah, thank you Gary. For being nosy and giving me an alibi.
“He works out before you do. Looks like you already got a workout in.” He gestures to the sweat all over her. “What do you need the gym equipment for?” I could butt in and say because cardio and weight lifting are not the same workout, but it would be over his head. Gary looks like he’s never worked out a day in his life. His beer belly is so stout it makes him look pregnant.
“Well, I was hoping to get some weights in.” I smile to myself as I confirm my suspicions. “I took a long run this morning,” Presley explains, grabbing weights from the rack near the mirror.
Gary tucks his hands in his oversized jean pockets. “How many miles did you do? Which trail?”
My hackles rise even though I know Gary isn’t a threat. He’s asking the wrong questions. “Uh, I ran six miles. I don’t always run that much. Only when I’ve… got a lot on my mind. Right now, I’m drowning in my own brain. I can’t get out of my head.”
I have to keep running fast because if I lower the speed the treadmill will start squeaking and then I won’t be able to hear Presley speaking. “What’s going on then, little lady?”
Presley visibly cringes. She smiles politely at him in the mirror as she begins bicep curls. “I’d rather not talk about it while I work out. I still have to get home and shower before work.” Gary takes the hint and heads back to the bar. Roger grunts and groans as he lifts. Doesn’t he know women think that’s gross? Gym noises are the worst. A quick glance at the mirror confirms that Presley is suppressing a smirk. She meets my eyes and rolls hers.
I slow the treadmill down to a walk now that I’m impossibly sweaty. Roger asks if I’m done and I gesture to the machine like he’s won the prize. I pick up the largest dumbbell in the room and stand next to Presley, facing the mirror. With my good arm, I curl my bicep several times quickly, then start grunting.
Presley halts all movemen
t and stares at me. “Are the sound effects really needed?” Roger isn’t running fast so the annoying squeaking is loud enough that he can’t hear our conversation. “Nate.” Presley adds my name, exaggerating the word.
I let a small grin slip before I groan and bring the dumbbell up again. “No, but it makes me look like I’m strong.”
“The opposite,” Presley says, squatting with a weight held at her chest. “It makes you look like a buffoon.”
I tilt my head behind us. “What about him. Did it make him look like a strong, virile man?”
You can tell she’s embarrassed by the way her cheeks flame red. “Stop it. Don’t be rude.”
“He gets to do it but I can’t? What’s up with that double standard?”
“You’re my friend, so I can tell you the truth. He’s just a stranger.”
I can’t deny I like being in her small circle. A life of solitude is odd. You don’t have circles or friends or very much communication with people outside of your career. “Still a double standard,” I pant out, dropping the weight. I decide not to push it with my bad arm because fuck, if the stitches come open in front of Presley, she’ll turn into a mess… again. “How was your night?” it’s a casual question, I realize. Something a friend would ask a friend. If I set the standard, maybe she’ll roll with it.
“I had a hard time sleeping and my internet wasn’t working at all. If I’m going to be trapped here, at least let me on the internet so I can see what the rest of the world is doing. You know?” Presley smooths out her ponytail. “What about you?”
“Couldn’t sleep either, but I do have internet. What do you mean, trapped?”
“Ugh. Lucky. I bet it’s because you’re up higher on the mountain more than I am. Trapped in the sense that I am here. Nowhere to go and nothing to do because there is nothing.”
“I might be able to help you get a better signal. Boost it at the very least. Maybe hardwire a modem like we’re back in ninety-nine. If you want?” She drops the weights and turns to look at me in person instead of in the mirror.
“Okay,” she agrees. “I won’t even say anything about you knowing how to do that like I want to. It’s obvious you just know… everything.”
“I have to get going,” I say. “First day of work!”
Instead of attitude like I expect, Presley grins. “We’re gonna bake our asses off today. I’m going to show you everything I know.”
“Sounds daunting for a one-armed man.”
She laughs and then coughs. “There’s a joke there but I promised a friend I would keep those to myself.”
“Ah, something about a long arm, I’m sure,” I say, lips twisting into a smirk.
Presley looks away. “Or a short, small one.”
“I left myself open to that one,” I say.
She laughs, looking over her shoulder. “Agreed. See you at work then.” Presley picks up more weights and effectively ends our conversation. Swallowing hard, I leave the gym area of the bar. There’s a jar on the counter that I drop cash in and walk out into the brisk morning. My sweat will turn to ice before I get home. Sighing, I do the only rational thing after I’ve run nine miles before seven in the morning, I run another mile home. I log into my computer briefly to jot down notes and work on reports so I don’t have to do them later on. I shower and dress for the day before I walk into town.
Ryan has been at the bakery for at least four hours when I walk in. He greets me with a big smile, and tosses an apron my way. “I always take the early shift. Mostly because I don’t think Presley would do well with early mornings. I get here at four to start the breakfast muffins and bagels.” He is giving me a tutorial on the different ovens and processes as he speaks. “I’d like it if you could pick up some mornings here and there so I can do big climbs. With rock climbing you have to start early and get done before the afternoon storms roll in. Lightning is a real threat, you know?”
“I wake up early. Just so you know, Presley wakes up early too. I saw her in the gym earlier today. I bet she’d do some mornings.” Selfishly, I think if we did mornings together, that would be one less thing for me to worry about. She’d be in front of my face. There would be zero guesswork. “Happy to help out where I can.” I owe Ryan a debt for giving me a chance most people in this town wouldn’t.
Presley comes in the side entrance apologizing for being the last person here even though she’s not late. “‘Morning sunshine,” Ryan drawls. “Bread is almost finished and the donuts need to be glazed.” She falls right into step. I’m learning new things about her every day. She enjoys having tasks. That, or she’s trying to ignore me in a studious fashion.
Ryan has already told me what he wants me to do, so I continue washing pans in the industrial-sized sink adjacent to the oven. I glance at Presley as she ties an apron on. “How was the rest of your workout?”
“Sweaty,” she deadpans. “Roger got even louder after you left. Men.”
“Not all men,” I remind her.
Presley starts packaging the bread. “Well, I guess I don’t know if you’re the annoying sort like Roger. You didn’t do a real workout.”
I grin. She definitely isn’t ignoring me, but she has a chip on her shoulder. “My arm has stitches. While you roast me, I’ll remind you why my arm has stitches.”
Ryan buts in. “Why does your arm have stitches?” His face is full of concern. “Are you okay to be here? We can train you another day.”
I meet her eyes. “You do the honor.”
“Nate got attacked by Jake’s dogs yesterday afternoon. But he’ll be fine. He called it a scratch.” She pauses to look at me. “Right, Nate?”
“Almost.” I hold up my thumb and forefinger. “The dogs were attacking Presley, and I put myself between the dogs and her. So technically Presley got attacked. I thwarted it.”
Ryan is staring, gaze darting between me and Presley. “Woah. Okay that’s a lot to unpack.” He puts his hands on his slim hips. “Did doc patch you up? Or did you have to drive up to Ridge Hospital?” Ridge is the bigger town folks here have to go to when things really go bad. It’s not big by any stretch of the imagination, but it has a Kmart and a hospital so it might as well be big city living to the residents of Gold Hawke.
“Nate is exaggerating.”
I raise my brows. “Am I?”
“You said you were fine and you were at the gym this morning.”
“As you so delicately pointed out, I wasn’t even working out.” I turn back to my dishes, annoyance creeping in. “But that will change because I’m going to lift tomorrow. Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll blow some stitches. You’ll drive me back to the doc, right?”
Ryan clears his throat. “You guys had quite an afternoon, didn’t you?”
“It was the most eventful day I’ve had since moving here,” Presley mutters.
“Same here,” I sling back, keeping the hostility in my voice. “Today will be uneventful, then you can go home and get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow you might wake up on the right side of the bed.”
She glares daggers at the side of my head. Ryan makes uncomfortable noises under his breath. “I woke up on the only side of the bed I have. It’s a twin pushed up against the wall.” Presley’s voice is an acrid hiss.
“Why only a twin?” Ryan asks, voice warbling.
“Because that’s what was there,” she says, icily.
“Oh, you’re really in a bad mood. I gave you that joke on a silver platter.” Ryan chuckles under his breath. “Because triplets weren’t an option at the mattress store.”
“Ha. Ha. What is going on? It’s early, and you guys are ganging up on me. Is this what it’s going to be like now with Nate here?” Her packaging becomes more aggressive, as her hands move quicker.
“He took a dog to the arm for you and well, you’re acting like it’s his fault.”
I could kiss Ryan square on the mouth for taking my side. Finally, a teammate. I should have known he
was good people when I heard how much he was annoyed by Presley’s jokes.
“I mean no offense Presley, but is something bothering you?”
She remains silent save for the crinkling paper and the snipping of the string that wraps each loaf. It’s awkward for a few minutes, and we keep our heads down and work. “I’m really frustrated. I’m sorry.”
“With me?” Ryan asks.
The Love You Hate: A Charge Man Novel (The Charge Men Series Book 1) Page 6