This was new.
“Um, hey,” I said, stepping out onto the porch. “You’re going to get beat up in this neighborhood with a sweatband like that.”
“Don’t be jealous.” He smiled at me, his blond hair catching the sun so bright it began burning my retinas. “You up for a run?”
My eyes narrowed even as I bumped against his shoulder. “Why do I feel like this is a calculated encounter?”
He gave an exaggerated gasp. “What? I’m here to exercise and thought I’d come drag your lazy butt out of bed.”
I laughed while doing a few quick stretches. There was a six-year difference between Nate and me. Growing up, it seemed like we were always a stage or two off. By the time I was five or six and wanted to go build dirt forts or hunt bugs, he had passed that stage and was into shooting hoops with his friends. By the time I got old enough to shoot hoops decently, he was eighteen and leaving home. I had no real complaints—he had been a good brother, and I have lots of good memories—but it wasn’t until my residency at his office in Vegas that we had really bonded. As adults, we were finally on a more level playing field and had been able to truly connect.
Most importantly, I learned exactly how Type A he really was, so I spent much of my free time at the office in Vegas, turning product labels around backward, moving papers off kilter on his desk, and putting the scissors in his drawer where the (gasp) stapler belonged.
We spent the first two miles of our run talking about the new office. Correction:Natespent the first two miles talking about the new office.
“And then I thought we could get a Jacuzzi sometime in that back room? For some water therapy.”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” I concentrated on my breathing. Nate’s legs were longer than mine, and it was throwing my pace off.
“And then maybe a giraffe for the storage room. And I think a tiny kite room might be perfect for the little patients.”
“Hmm. Okay.”
“TESSA.”
I jolted. “What?”
“You’re not listening to anything I’m saying.”
“I was down with the giraffe idea.”
“What’s going on?”
We turned off of Main Street and onto a back road through the fields. “Honestly, the building itself doesn’t interest me that much. It’s yours. I’m just working there.”
He was quiet for a minute. I was hoping he was being quiet because running with me was too tiring for him, but one glance at his relaxed face and that thought was extinguished. He hardly looked winded. Logan would have passed out by now. Not that I’d ever run with Logan, but we’d hiked, so…
“Do you want it to be yours too?”
I stumbled over a rock and almost fell before I caught myself. Did I want that?
I had some savings, but it had significantly lessened after I bought my car. I had never really considered getting money from Jake’s truck, but now I allowed my mind to go there.
He continued, “I never meant for younotto have a part ownership in this. I just knew you didn’t have the kind of money to invest yet. You’re fresh out of PT school, who does?”
“I don’t,” I said. “But I do have…a few things in the works. Can I think on it?”
“Sure.”
He waited until the last mile before he brought up Logan, which was about four miles longer than I thought it would take.
“What’s going on with you and Logan Marten?”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
“You act like he’s a stranger to me, but he’s honestly like another brother.” Ew. That was a lie. “I practically lived at his house growing up.”
