Okay. I can be strong enough to admit I have a teeny anger issue. Which, in my defense, only helps in the courtroom. Not that I ever got the chance to plead my case in an actual courtroom. Bri and Connor ran straight to the boss with their testimonies, and I was sentenced to life without law. No chance for a rebuttal, though what was the point?
I put my hands around Connor’s neck, and I’m still not sure why. I lost control, and I deserved to get kicked to the curb. That doesn’t mean I don’t blame Connor for the role he played. He’s enemy number one and always will be.
After that dreadful day, I sought refuge at the gym. There was so much anger and frustration pulsating through me that I spent hour after hour, day after day, torturing my body as punishment for my mistakes. The noise in my head was neverending, so the workouts became neverending. I couldn’t get my job back, but I could push my body until I became numb to the pain. Two weeks later, a coaching position became available at the gym and since I used to work here during my undergrad, I jumped right back in, needing something until I could find a firm willing to take me. Four months later I’m still here, hopelessly waiting for a call I know isn’t coming.
I pull my canister of pre-workout from my bag and drop a full scoop into my water bottle, needing all the energy I can to make it through another workout with what’s bound to be a pervy man.
I know not all men are perverts. But those ones don’t request me.
I chug the drink, ignoring the tingling feeling in my lips, and put on a fresh coat of deodorant. After I stuff my bag in my locker, I return to the front. The client who requested me hasn’t arrived yet.
I turn and pace the front hall, shaking out my hands to gain control of my jitters. I’ve never taken two scoops in a day before, and my heart is beating at an unnatural pace. Or maybe it’s in my stomach because I’m not feeling so well.
I bounce on my toes, my nerves creeping up there with my heart rate. If he’s going to go through the effort to request me, he should have the decency to show up on time.
My stomach clenches again, and I walk faster.
I make three laps around the front display table, piled high with bottles of protein powder. I stop to straighten the singular jar on the top of the impressive pyramid. There, perfect.
“Maddie.”
I jump, dropping my hand too quickly and ramming my hip into the table at the same time. The pyramid collapses and with it, my pride.
“Come on, I just finished making that.” Gunnar groans behind me.
“Well, then, you know how to fix it.” I press my lips together and flip around.
Gunnar isn’t alone. The man standing next to him is the last person on Earth I expected to see.
He’smy client? That smug, self-righteous, son of a—. My stomach sinks faster than the protein tower I demolished. And then it rises right back up… and doesn’t stop.
Chapter 4
Connor
I’ve imagined my reunion with Maddie many times. In my head it goes one of two ways: she picks up where she left off four months ago, wraps her hands around my neck, and tries to kill me, or she throws out a few choice words and stomps off.
But not once did I imagine her puking on me.
I’m so stunned I can’t move.
“Ew!” Gunnar jumps back from the slosh. “You got vomit on my new shoes!”
I don’t need to inspect my shoes to know she got me too. It seeps in through the holes above my toes, and it’s extremely unpleasant.
Maddie’s eyes are wide. So wide I can see every emotion she’s fighting through. Embarrassment, pain, betrayal… She’s as beautiful as she’s always been, but I immediately notice the lack of lipstick. Of course, she wouldn’t wear it to the gym. It’s not like I’ve been picturing those lips for the last four months, wondering if I’d ever see them turn down at me again. Then as luck would have it, my sister got an advertisement for this gym last week with a picture of Maddie front and center, squatting an impressive weight and looking gorgeous doing it. The advertisement offered a free four-week gym membership with fifty percent off a personal training session, which I am currently taking advantage of. I’m here to fix things with Maddie. Making her sick wasnotpart of the plan.
I clear my throat. “Hey, Mads.” The nickname I was never approved to use is all it takes to turn her face to stone.
And then she disappears.
There’s the reaction I expected.
“I’m going to be sick.” Gunnar runs off somewhere in the same direction as Maddie, but I’m rooted to the floor. One, because I’m too scared to move and make the situation on the floor worse, and two, because I don’t know what happens now.
But then I remember where I am, in the main hall, puke at my feet and protein bottles littering the floor while people skirt around me like I’m carrying the plague.
Maddie would be happy with that outcome.
