“Look, Quinn, a track.” Jared points above, and I see runners circling the building on the second floor.
Jax slips his hands into his pockets, nodding in approval. “Indoor, cameras, proper lighting…loving it.”
I give the girl a tight smile as Jared slaps down his credit card. “Set her up.”
I should fight it, and I have every intention of being quite the handful for my brothers when I have more time, but I’m just too tired. It takes twenty minutes to fill out my information and sign some papers. I bypass the tour, schedule a fitness test for another day, and grab a towel, heading through the lobby.
Jax works on his phone at a small round table near the doors. Jared sits with him, elbows on his knees as he peels a complimentary orange.
“You’re just gonna sit there?” I ask. “The whole time?”
Like he doesn’t trust me to get home on my own?
He just tips his eyes up at me but says nothing, and I remove my jacket and head into the gym. I wish Madoc was here. He’s a lot more reasonable. He’d get them to leave.
Sticking my earbuds back in, I restart “The Boys of Summer”, leaving my towel and jacket on abench. I step onto the three-lane track, wait for another jogger to pass by, and quickly follow. An arrow on the wall dictates the direction we’re running, accompanied by a sign letting runners know that eleven-and-a-half laps equals one mile. I dig in my heels, loving the slight cushion of the ground, easier than pavement, and I pass under a digital timer above our heads that keeps minutes and seconds if we want to pace ourselves.
Not a bad set up, actually. I just want to go, though. There are mirrors on the outside wall, sporadically interrupted with windows, the inside walls occasionally giving way for people to leave the track and head into the workout areas. Two-dozen weightlifting machines sit on the oval floor at the center of the track, and I look around, seeing a few women, but mostly men. One huge guy with a long silver beard lifts a massive dumbbell over his head with one arm as he sits on a bench and watches himself in the mirror. Another props up his phone to film himself doing squats.
I float my eyes over the room, seeing a man in black track pants with a white hoodie doing pullups. I let my eyes linger for a second. Long, lean, broad… Blond.
A wall cuts off my view, and I blink, my heart suddenly pulsing a mile a minute.
I try to swallow, but I can’t. The wall breaks again, and I jerk my head, looking back into the workout area. He keeps going, pulling his chin up over the bar, and I stare at the side of his face and the back of his head…but it’s too far away to be sure. His hair is wet with sweat, and he has earbuds in like me.
I lose sight of him again. I can’t get a look at his face. Another wall, and then I enter the other side of the gym giving way to a different workout area. I try not to, but I find my legs moving a little faster to circle around again to the other side.
It’s been eight years since he left town. If he were back in town, Madoc and Fallon would’ve made a big deal about it. I would’ve heard.
The Cubs cap feels tight.HisCubs cap. I keep going, my braid bouncing over my chest, but when I come up on his weight room again, he’s gone. Runners pass me, and I scan the room twice out of the corner of my eye.
Then…
I see him.
My stomach flips. He lies on a bench, holding a bar over his body before bringing it down and pumping it back up, again and again. His long legs are bent, his shoes on the ground, and even though he’s wearing a lot more clothes than the other men here, I can’t stop staring at everything but his face. Built chest under the hoodie. Narrow waist. Toned shoulders and strong arms. The muscles on the top of his thighs bulge just a little under the black pants.
The wall separates us again, and when there’s a break, I glance quickly, seeing him replace the bar and sit up. He rises, grabs his towel, and lifts his head, meeting my eyes.
My heart plummets into my stomach.
Oh my God.
Lucas?
I look away, disappearing behind another wall and entering the other side of the gym.
My chest hurts. I stop, tapping my earbud to pause the music as I step through the entrance to another workout area. I stagger a little over to the water fountains on the wall and bend over, pressing the button. I drink, wetting my parched throat.
What the hell?
How can he be here? How can he be here for even an hour without me hearing it from someone?
But he’s just working out like he’s been here for days.
I stand upright, wiping off my mouth. Did he recognize me?
I should say ‘hi,’ I guess. I grew up with him, even if I was way younger.
