by Kay Lyons
She was describing a boyfriend. A spouse. A guy friend?
“But I can’t do this if you’re messing with my head. Pretending to be friends is one thing, but you don’t have to be all—” she waved a hand in the air “—‘you’re beautiful’ in private, you know? All I need and want from you is the truth, nothing else. Ever. Okay?”
Narrowing his gaze, Nick silenced the dark thoughts roaring through his head. Pretending to be friends? If that’s what she wanted, fine. Obviously, all she was doing was pretending they had a friendship going. But why did the statement make him angry?
Because he didn’t measure up to her? Because she’d judged him and he’d come up lacking? Maybe she knew he hadn’t graduated. Who knew, but he wasn’t going to bring it up. That topic wasn’t up for discussion or review. It rankled, though, because she wasn’t giving him a chance to prove to her what kind of man he’d become without any diplomas or fancy titles after his name.
“So, are we clear?”
He nodded, unable to do anything else since Matt’s future was at stake. “No sugar-coating. No lies. Just the truth and nothing but.”
“Good.” She breathed a sigh. “You can really be that honest?”
He waited for her to look at him, anger giving his voice an edge. “You’re overweight. About twenty pounds or so,” he added when he realized she silently dared him to say it.
She immediately looked away. His heart stalled in his chest and he hated himself for making her feel bad. Nick leaned over and nudged her chin toward him.
Jennifer Rose was sweet and strong, but she was also too smart. Vulnerable from her divorce and definitely not his type with her intelligence and education. But he didn’t want to see her hurt and he definitely didn’t want to be the one to hurt her. “For the record, though, if I feel you deserve a compliment I’m going to give you one.”
Jenn blinked at him, then gave him a tenuous, beautiful smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry I keep waffling. But I really want to do this. Really.”
He smirked and drew back. “Then get off your butt and let’s get started. Write down what I tell you in the boxes.”
MATT, STOP FIDGETING, please.” Seven days after her first lesson on the weight machines, Jenn placed her hand over Matt’s to keep the boy from moving his math paper back and forth and shook her head.
He slid her a look from beneath his long lashes and did as ordered. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Now, number four? What’s sixty-four plus thirteen?”
“Seventy-seven.”
“And number three? Try that one again.”
Just like all the times before, Matt stared at the page, his forehead wrinkling in a frown of concentration and his mouth moving as he read the numbers. Then it began again. Biting his lip, he began to fiddle with the page, moving it back and forth with his right hand.
If she quoted the problems aloud, Matt got the answers after doing the calculation in his head. But if he read them…Could it be something as simple as needing corrective lenses? He could read, knew his numbers and wrote them correctly. But the process was long and agonizing. So where was the problem?
“Matt? Do you see the numbers on the page?” she asked, just to clarify.
He nodded firmly, stopped and tucked his hand under his leg, but after a few seconds of looking at the problem and not coming up with the answer, he began to rock on the seat. Back and forth, then front to back. Finally diagonally side to side.
Developmentally, she knew that girls were more apt to sit still while they studied or read, and that boys often associated movement with learning. They played imaginary drums while they studied, fiddled with their pencils, zipped out a chord on air guitar. Wriggled and squirmed and rocked. But was Matt’s constant fidgeting that or something else? A variation of ADD?
“Seventy-two?”
His answer blew her visual impairment theory to pieces. He could see the numbers and the answer was correct. “Very good.” The rocking stopped and Matt released a ragged sigh. Her heart contracted, and she was saddened by his behavior. She didn’t want to subject Matt to the rigors of testing if there was no need, but why couldn’t he figure out the answers on paper as quickly as he did when she asked him out loud? She was becoming frustrated trying to match his behavior to the learning impairments described in her books. Toss in the tension and strange awareness that existed between her and Nick after their talk in his office and she had a chronic headache.
Nick was polite, always, but he was a quiet brooder, as well. The more time they spent together, the worse it became. Jenn rambled whenever she got nervous and these days she pretty much kept up a steady stream of chatter about her class at the college. Maybe Nick didn’t think she would give Matt her full attention.
Like now?
She blinked her thoughts back to the present. “I, um, think that’s enough math for today. Did you read the story I asked you to read?”
Matt nodded, but the effort was lackluster at best. The tension behind her eyes increased. “Matt?”
He pulled the three pages of a short story and the sheet of questions he was supposed to answer from a SpongeBob folder, his head down as he slid them toward her.
Jenn picked up the stapled sheets, then flipped to the question page. Her heart sank. Matt had tried, she could see that from his many eraser marks, but his responses to the questions about story order, characters and plot were more or less nonexistent, the printed letters a mess. She forced a smile and set the papers on the table. “I can tell you worked hard on these. Did you ask your dad to go over the pages like I suggested?”
“He’s busy.”
“I know he’s busy, but I’m sure he’d take the time to help you. He knows how important this is.”
“I got an F, didn’t I?”
She patted his back and tried to ignore the smell wafting in the window from the Old Coyote Bar and Grille down the street. “We’re not working for grades, Matt. You know that.”
“But I got ’em all wrong, didn’t I?”
“That’s the best thing about stories, they’re all open to interpretation so you’re allowed to have your own opinion. But the question about order? What came first, next and last? We need to work on that.”
“Why do I have to read when Dad doesn’t?”
“Honey, your dad must read all the time. He has to read to run his businesses.”
“But he doesn’t read books. We listen to them in the truck and on the phone and CD player. Why can’t I do that? I don’t like to read.”
Remembering the many audio books she’d seen lying about their apartment, she sighed and reminded herself that Nick really was a busy man. So what were her options? There was a system called Carbo Reading, where the student listened to a story numerous times and followed the book visually. After repeated sessions, the student was required to read from the book without the audio aid. Critics believed the process was simple memorization, and didn’t result in true learning. But right now she’d like to see Matt make some progress. “Tell you what. Let’s take these papers over to the couch and get comfortable while we go over them. Okay?”
Matt shrugged and Jenn searched her mind for something to ease the hurt and pain she saw in him. “Once we get them finished and go over your assignment for tomorrow, maybe we can go for a walk in the park and play some Frisbee or toss a baseball or something.”
He perked up at that. “I’m not very good.”
“I’m not, either, but so long as we have fun what’s it matter?”
“Do I have to read the story again?”
“Yup, but I’ll help you. We’ll read it a couple times and practice your vocabulary words because you know—”
“Practice makes us better,” he grumbled with a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
HOW’D IT GO with Matt today?” Nick asked the following Thursday.
Jenn inhaled then sighed, lowering the weights onto the base w
ith a soft clunk. She knew better than to feel frustrated after such a short period of time, but she couldn’t help it. Between always feeling on edge around Nick, Matt’s pouting over his summer of schoolwork and her stomach constantly growling, tensions ran high. “Fine.”
“Nice try. What’s going on?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead the room whirled for a second. “It’s, um…fine.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
She blinked away the fog. “What? No. No, I’d rather you not say anything.” She lifted her hand and smoothed it over her hair, hoping Nick didn’t see the way she was trembling.
After their talk in Nick’s office, she’d really dedicated herself to the training program. And she’d done well. She’d watched every rainbow-colored bite that went into her mouth, measured her portion sizes and ignored her stomach. Sugar-free gum had become her constant companion and she was sore all over, but she could already tell a difference in how her pants fastened around her waist. Kind of made it worth the belly grumbling she was putting herself through.
And it only took nine packages of gum to get you here.
“Matt needs to know how important it is that he works toward doing better on that test he has to take this fall.”
She strove for focus and calm, but came up short. Irritability was a constant companion these days. Sugar withdrawal, anyone? “Matt knows perfectly well how serious this is. He doesn’t need any more pressure. What he needs is your help. Nick, I know you’re busy, but I can’t stress how important it is for you to sit down with him for a little while every day and listen to him read. Help him with the words, ask him questions about the story. Parental involvement is key to a child’s success.”
He scowled at the reprimand. “Like I said, it’s been a long couple of weeks. My uncle extended his vacation to make it a second honeymoon for my aunt, and we’re working flat out at the garage.”
“I know, but can’t you spare a few minutes?”
“Get on the spin bike and get going.”
Jenn stifled a groan and did as she was ordered, grumbling beneath her breath because Nick was pushing her so hard. It’s because you gave him a two-month deadline and he’s trying to get you to meet that goal.
But even if she lost a pound to two pounds a week, no way was that dress going to fit. “You’re mad at me because I’m bringing this up, aren’t you?” She put her feet in motion, glaring at him.
He’d paced away but now he returned to stand in front of her. “Do you think it’s easy being a single parent? I’ll do anything for Matt, but I’m running both my businesses and the Old Coyote. I’m barely sleeping as it is, plus I’m training you. Your job is to help him. Remember that part of our deal?”
Having dealt with plenty of parental situations over the years, Jenn recognized a defensive tactic when she saw one. “I know this may sound harsh, but shouldn’t Matt come first?” Nick’s blue eyes churned with anger and disbelief.
“You’re supposed to be tutoring him and doing what I don’t have time to do. Those were the terms of our arrangement.”
“I remember,” she said tightly, losing patience. “But it’s been weeks and you haven’t read with Matt once. Nick, come on, what’s up with that?”
Chapter 8
I’ve been busy. Go Faster.”
“I am!”
“A turtle could outrun you.”
Jenn gritted her teeth and pedaled as fast as she could go, glaring at him the entire time. Sweat covered her body, her lungs burned with the effort of keeping up the pace and still she pedaled. She hated her relationship with Nick. He built her up during her workout sessions, told her she could do it, she was doing great. But bring up anything to do with Matt’s education and the barriers came up, as if it was a personal affront to him that Matt struggled. As if it was his fault?
But that was ridiculous. Children struggled in school all the time. They had some subjects they did better in than others. But what about her arrangements with Nick? In public he was usually attentive and easygoing as a guy friend should be, but whenever they were alone, there was an unbreachable wall between them. Why did he run so hot and cold?
“All I’m saying…” pant “…is that Matt needs you. He needs to know…that reading and math…are important.” She closed her eyes briefly and fought the frustration rolling around inside her. Combined with her hungry state, her head pounded. “I didn’t say…anything. When you took my idea for the concert. And turned it. From an incentive to a punishment.”
“Here we go.”
“If he doesn’t—Oh, good grief! Do well on. His tests. But what you do, how you behave, what Matt sees in you. Influences him. And if. You’re too busy. Too whatever—” she gulped in air “—to help him with this, or by letting him see you reading some yourself.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Then who? What do you think. He thinks? He has to consider himself. And reading. Worth the effort.”
“You’re one to talk about thinking something is worth the effort.”
She opened her burning eyes wide to discover Nick now stood with his hands on the lower handle curve of the bike, his gaze too close, too knowing. Jenn shook her head. “This isn’t. About me. Either.”
“Matt’s worth it. We both agree on that. But you? I don’t know about that. I think so, but why do you want to lose weight?”
Jenn struggled to draw in more air. Oh, her legs burned! “You know. Why. The trip.”
“But it can’t be just the trip. If it’s just the trip, then once the trip is over so is your drive to succeed. Is that what you want?” “No.”
“Then why are you doing this? Why are you here? Don’t slow down, keep pedaling. Faster.”
“Oh, help me.” Her heart pounded in her chest and she saw Nick as the drill sergeant he’d claimed to be. “Because I want to—” She panted. Her lungs were on fire. Thank goodness the gym was virtually empty at this time of day, otherwise she was sure everyone would be watching.
“Want to what? What?”
“Feel better. And…lose weight!”
“Why?”
For the same reason she wanted to prove to Matt he could read. It was necessary. It was healthy. It was a good thing. But the truth was most of all she wanted to be skinny, and she knew if she said that Nick would jump on the comment and tear her to shreds in the mood he was in. “To be. Healthy.”
“Why?”
What was with him?
“Why?”
Nick lowered his head until he was nose-to-nose with her, those amazing eyes of his squinting into hers. With every pedal and huff she felt weaker, more vulnerable, and she knew he saw it.
“You want Matt to know a good education is worth it. But what about you? Is your body worth being treated with respect? Is your health and well-being worth being kind to yourself? Are you worth it?”
“Yes.” It was a weak, lackluster response and she knew it. The desperate bid made that much worse because she couldn’t maintain eye contact.
“What was that? Say I’m worth it. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down, keep pushing.”
“You’re pushing. Me. Because you’re mad. About what I said. Punishing. Me. Why?”
“You can’t say it. Why are you slowing down? Don’t stop.”
“I’m tired.” Sick and tired of not being who she wanted to be.
“Trainers push. It’s what we do. Say it and you can stop. Say it, Jenn. I’m worth it. Three little words.”
“I. Hate. You.”
He grinned. “I know. But say it anyway. I’m worth it.”
A rough sound caught her by surprise and horrified her because it was almost a sob. Almost. She clamped her mouth shut and prayed hard. What was the problem? Three little words, like he said. Why couldn’t she say them? And to say that she hated him? She pedaled hard, but she wasn’t going anywhere near as fast as she had been. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Af
ter people say the things they do to help us try harder, it’s almost impossible to believe we’re worth anything. I know, sweetheart. I know exactly what that’s like.”
“How?” Maybe if he could trust her enough to tell her how he knew, maybe then…
“I just do.”
Their eyes locked and she saw the same hurt, the same pain in him that she felt, and she knew his words were true. On this, they connected. “I’m—” Her head spun faster than the wheel she pedaled, pounding with the rhythm of her whirling feet. She felt so weak and shaky and dizzy, that she might—
“Jenn? Jenn!”
She didn’t pass out, but she came close to it. One minute she was on the bike and the next she was in Nick’s arms, everything swirling as he lifted her off and carried her into his office.
“Put…put me down.”
“Hold still. Stop squirming. Did you follow the schedule?”
She nodded weakly.
“Don’t lie to me.” Nick seated himself on the couch with her sprawled across his lap.
Was he trembling—or was she? She tried to move herself off his hard thighs, but she couldn’t budge even though he barely restrained her. She was so weak.
“Jenn? Sweetheart, I’m sorry for pushing you this hard.” His lips brushed her forehead, her eyebrow. “Hear me? Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m in a lousy mood and I took it out on you.”
“I’m okay.” Maybe if she said it enough, her body would believe it. Why couldn’t she stop shaking?
“Did you eat?”
She sighed, recognizing his tone. How can he be so different? Yelling at her one minute about Matt and working out, and the next minute being so caring? Concerned? His about-faces made her head spin almost as much as the lack of food. “I’m fine.”