“See,” his tone changes, and I notice it instantly, “that’s how this whole thing works.” His eyebrows quirk up as he moves a hand between the two of us. “I tell you things. You tell me things. We share stuff. Being a family means more than talking about baseballs stats and work.”
“So when should I expect our periods to sync up?”
He shoots me a look and we both laugh aloud. “You can be such a douche, you know that?” he spits out through his laughter.
“As if you aren’t?” Reid holds up his hands, guilty as charged.
When the laughter evaporates, seriousness looms in the air. “I’m serious, Dylan. I meant what I said yesterday. I really think you need to talk to someone, or do something to help clear your head.”
Gazing out the window, I consider his ideas. It’s not as if counseling hasn’t crossed my mind. I’d be a hypocrite if I said that talking to someone about your problems didn’t help. My resistance to the idea of therapy is rooted much more in the very real fact that it would just be too painful.
I crumple up the wax paper from my breakfast and walk over to the sink, dumping the rest of my coffee. I lean against the countertop, stretching my legs in front me, and crossing my ankles. “I know you’re right. I’ll think about it; I promise.”
Reid may not believe me, but I mean it.
Reid cleans up the rest of the stuff from breakfast, and when he stands next to me, he digs his wallet out of his back pocket. “If you’re thinking about slipping me a condom out of there,” I joke, feigning a disgusted look.
He pulls out a business card and drops it on the counter next to me. “Call her. She’s good.” After washing his coffee mug, he dries his hands, and tosses the towel on the counter. “Now get your ass in gear because we’re heading to the park in ten minutes.”
I mutter a few choice curses under my breath as I walk past him.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re taking Braden to the park. After years of being away from home, I wasn’t sure where I’d settle down. Reconnecting with Reid made that decision easier. The small town just outside of Elmira, New York, isn’t so small that everyone knows everything about you; I’ve been there before. But, it’s also not so big that I feel like I’m lost in a mass of chaotic nothingness. Up and coming, it’s young and hip, but still very suburban and family oriented.
There’s a trendy coffee shop and a vintage bookstore, bookended between a boutique-clothing store and a specialty chocolate shop. The cobblestone sidewalks rumble beneath the stroller and Braden makes raspberry noises along the way.
When we get to the park, Braden leaps out of his stroller and immediately plops himself in the sandbox. Reid and I sit on the bench and watch as Braden tosses sand in their air. “Maddy’s gonna rip into you for letting him get so filthy.”
“Whatever. I’ll make it up to her.” He winks suggestively at me, hinting at more than I need to know.
I punch him on the arm. “Keep it in the bedroom, would you?”
“Speaking of bedrooms . . .” He lets his half-question hang out there, waiting for me to take the bait. He huffs at me when I don’t. “Tell me what happened with Matt. I thought you guys were doing okay.” Reid digs into the diaper bag and pulls out two bottles of water.
I crack mine open, gulping down a few large sips as I contemplate what to say. Shrugging, I grumble, “Just didn’t work out.” Dancing around the question is easier than answering it.
Reid just glares at me, his pissed-off stare speaking volumes, even though no words come out. Right. The whole talking about feelings and shit. After a restless night of sleep, an early morning wake up call, a lecture on how I need mental help, I’m really not up for it. The sun beating on my back seems to just amplify the foul mood I’ve been trying to keep at bay.
“Was it about Shane?” he asks, calmly.
Without being able to put a finger on it, something shifts inside of me and I lash out at Reid. “You know, you’re one to be poking and prodding all of a sudden. You ran away, too. Left it all behind because you didn’t want to deal with the pain either.”
He shifts on the bench, facing me, not at all affected by my anger. “Yeah, I know, but I was a kid. And so were you. But we’re not kids anymore. I’m trying to move on for him.” He tips his chin at Braden who’s digging a hole with another little boy sitting next to him. “I’m trying to be a better man for my family. They deserve that much. So sue me if part of my plan for figuring out my shit also involves helping you figure yours out too.”
Braden’s cries pull Reid away from our exchange. I watch on as Reid brings Braden over to the swings. Braden’s loud squeals of joy as Reid pushes him higher and higher help calm me down, dissipate my pissed-off mood. I walk over to them.
“Sorry,” I mutter and Reid nods. I’ve moved beyond being worthy of a verbal response. “Matt wanted more.” Jamming my hands in my pockets, I dig my heels into the woodchips that lay on the ground.
“More can be good.” He tickles Braden on his sides when the swing retreats, making him giggle all over again.
“I’m not ready for more. Don’t think I ever will be.”
Reid turns to face me, letting Braden swing on his own for a few seconds. “No maybe you aren’t and maybe you won’t be, but you’ll never know until you try.”
He gives Braden a few more pushes, keeps his eyes forward, and says, “Look at what I’d be missing out on if I didn’t try.”
We don’t talk about Matt, Shane, or anything really for the rest of the time we’re at the park. Before long, we pack up and head back to my apartment. The sidewalks are busier, more people strolling lazily through their Saturday morning. The coffee shop has a few tables set up outside where couples sit and flip through the newspaper.
That’s what I’m missing out on and I know it. I feel it everywhere, but I know I don’t deserve it.
Reid elbows me, nearly knocking me into the street. “Look, they’re opening a new gym.” He points down the road where balloons and banners flap in the light breeze. We walk toward it, not entirely sure how we missed it on the way here. “Freaking awesome. It’s one of those MMA training gyms. I used to take classes back in college.” Reid’s face lights up as we stand in front of the new building.
It looks modern and clean, not like one of those over-the-top and in-your-face places. The façade of the building is sleek—grey and chrome, with masculine black letters above the doorway. Michelson’s.
We walk inside and a woman who could easily be mistaken for Tinkerbell greets us at the front desk. “Hi. Welcome to Michelson’s.” She extends her hand to us as she hops down from her seat behind the counter.
She crouches down in front of the stroller. “Hey there, buddy. Aren’t you adorable?”
She asks if we want a tour as Reid pokes his head into the main space. Before he can answer her, his phone rings. “I gotta take this.” He looks at the screen and then steps back outside.
It’s pretty much empty inside—all I can see are mats and a few unoccupied machines. “We’re running a special for our grand opening. Maybe you and your,” she pauses, seemingly searching for the right word before her eyes settle on Reid. She hands me a flier, listing all the prices and services. “Maybe you and your friend might be interested.”
“Thanks,” I glance down at her nametag, “Rachel.” I smile at her, taking the slip of paper from her hand. Reid taps on the front window, giving me the “we need to go” signal.
I step on the wheel lock of the stroller and turn to leave as someone else walks in.
A hot someone else.
Tall. Built.
Tattoos flirt with the edge of his shirt—his employee shirt.
Maybe joining here might not be a bad idea, after all.
Relationships and thoughts of more be damned. I could use a little eye-candy in my life.
“Oh, here.” He takes a step back to the door through which he just walked. “Let me get that for you.” His large frame doesn’t leave much room for m
e to step past him. I actually have to turn sideways just so I don’t touch him.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice a bit gruffer than it usually is.
He smiles at me through the glass as I approach Reid before he turns his back and goes to the counter where Rachel was sitting when we walked in.
“Everything okay?” I have to actually jog a few steps to catch up to Reid who is a few feet in front of me.
“Yeah, Maddy’s just really sick this morning.” He looks over at me, a curious look on his face. “You okay?”
“Me? I’m fine,” I lie, because lying to both him and myself is much easier than admitting how much I want to go back to the gym and see just what Michelson’s has to offer.
Chapter Fifteen
May 16, 2015
“Oh, here. Let me get that for you.” A father and his son slide out beneath my arm as I walk into the gym. I watch him walk away. He’s fit and trim, very easy on the eyes. Smells good, too.
Figures. The good-looking ones are always taken, I think to myself as I watch him approach his partner on the sidewalk.
Stepping into the gym, no, scratch that, my gym, feels like stepping on cloud nine. As I walk inside, the new smell of everything filters in. I really can’t believe this is all mine. Years of hard work and planning are finally paying off.
Thoughts of all I had to sacrifice, of all that was taken from me, float in the periphery, but I choose to ignore them. No point in dwelling on what can’t be changed.
Scanning the empty space, I see Rachel clicking away on the computer. Now that the gym is open, all I need are a few customers to get things started. And, you know, make sure I don’t lose all my money in this venture.
“Hey, Con.” Rachel spins in her desk chair an extra time just for good measure. “So,” she stretches out the word, “what do you think?” She waves her arm though the air, displaying the open gym space.
“I think it’s all unreal.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty freaking cool. Oh, and I think I may have gotten those two guys who were just here interested in signing up.”
“Hopefully the ads I took out bring some traffic in, too. And I have Carla starting that women’s self-defense class next week,” I ramble on nervously as I make my way behind the desk, making a small checklist of to-do items for the day. Sadly, without too many people, there isn’t much to do.
“Calm down. Remember, we don’t have the official grand opening until next weekend. That’s when people will start flocking in. It’ll all work out. Just wait and see.”
Rachel, ever the optimist, always looks at the bright side of everything. I’m the worrier. She’s the spitting image of Mom and I’m cleaved from the same stone as our father. A pang of sadness sinks in my stomach. I wish they could have been here to see this, to see what their children had become.
But, on the other hand, there’s a small part of me that’s relieved they didn’t have to witness what brought me here in the first place.
Keying in on my silence, Rachel scoots next to me, and laces her arms around my waist, leaning her head against my upper arm. “They’d be real proud of you, Conner.” She looks up at me, her big brown eyes watery. “I know I am,” she says, squeezing me to her side even tighter.
“Thanks, kid.” I kiss the top of her head and get back to work, not wanting to focus on the sad stuff on what should be a happy day.
By mid-week, we’ve gotten more than a handful of new members and even though the big event—a meet and greet with a few MMA fighters turned trainers—isn’t scheduled until Saturday, business is already on the upswing.
When I was planning everything out, I kept the staff to a minimum. Since I wasn’t too sure of how many people I could afford to pay, I figured I’d just run myself ragged until I couldn’t stand.
Turns out you can only pull off five fourteen hour days, after a grueling yearlong construction process, before you fall flat on your ass. Other than Carla’s class, which is in its first session, it’s fairly quiet.
I finish my protein and energy drink and look at the clock. Rachel should be in soon to close up for the evening so I can run the last minute errands for this weekend.
The phone rings at the same time the bell above the front door jingles. It’s the guys from last Saturday. They’re both wearing business suits—classically cut and snug in all the right places. Seeing the one who I held the door open for actually makes me stutter as I pick up the phone.
“Hi−uh−” I forget the greeting I’m always on Rachel to use. “Michelson’s MMA. Conner speaking. How can I help you today?” I recover, my voice, professional and cordial. The suits walk up to the counter and I cover the mouthpiece of the phone as I say, “I’ll be with you in just one second.”
“Con, it’s me.” Rachel’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. “Migraine. Can’t make it in.” Her words are clipped; she’s obviously in pain.
“Sure thing, kid. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” She grunts her goodbye, in too much pain to say another word.
I turn my attention back to the suits, who I’ve not so creatively named Suit Number One and Suit Number Two. Their backs are turned to me and my eyes immediately rove over the one on the left. He’s taken off his navy blue jacket and hooked it on his finger, draping it casually over his shoulder. It falls just past his narrow hips, grazing the upper curve of his ass. His other hand is in his pocket and I follow the rest of his arm, fully appreciating the way the material pulls over his bicep and broad shoulder. The guy next to him catches me staring and smirks at me.
If I had a man who looked like Suit Number One, I guess I’d have gotten used to people checking him out. As they both turn their attention back to me, Suit Number Two extends his hand, introducing himself. “Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks,” I accept his comment quietly, trying not to get too proud.
Suit Number One follows his partner’s lead in introductions. His hand is warm and firm, sending little shocks up my arm. “We met the other morning,” he clarifies, pumping my hand.
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” I pull my hand away, needing not to have contact with him if I want to sound somewhat like I have a brain. “The stroller, right?” I play it off as if I barely remember him because telling him I remember his scent as he strode past me, or the green flecks in his blue eyes as he tried to avoid looking at me, would seem just a bit too forthcoming.
“It’s Dylan, actually.” His full lips spread into a shy smile as dimples form in his cheeks.
“Conner.” I smile back.
Suit Number Two clears his throat. I’d completely forgotten about him even being there. “And I’m Reid.” He shoots Dylan a look that I can’t exactly place before turning his attention back to me. “Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way,” he leads.
“Right.” I suddenly remember what I should be doing. “Let me show you guys around and then you can sign up.” I let them walk in front of me into the space where the treadmills and stationary bikes stand in rows facing a wall of televisions. “If you’re interested, that is.” My words come out suggestively and I know I need to tone it down. Hitting on someone else’s man isn’t my style. Doing it right in front of the boyfriend is totally unlike me.
As I step into the gym behind them, I slip back into professional mode. Having to focus on the machines and the classes we offer keeps my attention off Dylan and the pull of his suit across his body.
Mentally calculating how long it’s been since Austin and I were together, I lose focus for a second. It can’t be that long! I think to myself. We had only started dating a month before my accident and he stuck by my side through my recovery, but at the end of the day, when I could no longer offer him the celebrity lifestyle that my MMA career had promised me, he was out the door in two seconds flat.
It’s been six months since I’ve even seen or heard from his sorry ass.
“So where do we sign?” Dylan’s voice cuts through my sidetracked brain.
Refoc
using my attention back on him, I stammer. “Huh? What?”
He steps next to me, pats me on the shoulder, but his touch lands more on my chest than my arm. I stare down at his hand, struck dumb—well, dumber than I currently sound, anyway. He pulls his hand away, chuckling at me. “The gym. We like it. Where do we sign?”
Reid laughs along with Dylan as they follow me back out to the front entrance. I give them the paperwork and before long, they’re both off to the locker room to get changed.
I do not think about what Dylan looks like out of his suit. Nope, I definitely don’t do that. It’s been so long since anyone has worked me up like that. And it’s ridiculous really, if I think about it.
Dylan’s here with his partner. They have a kid together. And here I am fantasizing about someone else’s man just because I think he’s attractive.
Though, anyone would be a fool to think otherwise. His light blond hair flops forward in his blue-grey eyes. Everything about him screams perfection; a hard jawline, dusted with the perfect five o’clock shadow; high cheekbones create a square shape without being too hard-edged. The one thing that’s not perfect, his nose; it’s crooked, looks like it’s been broken more than once. It actually makes him even more perfect than if it had been straight, somehow.
I can’t let myself go there, though. There’s too much on my plate right now to add in a relationship. When the hell did staring down a gorgeous man become looking for a relationship.
Maybe I just need to get laid.
Or sleep. Yeah, that’s it. I definitely just need some sleep.
It’s official. I’ve crossed the line into crazy.
Just as I try to shake the crazy away, I look up from my paperwork, and see Reid and Dylan step out of the locker room. Mesh shorts and t-shirts replace Dylan’s high-end suit, but he doesn’t look any less attractive. If it’s possible, he looks even more so.
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