Looking in the mirror, I run my hand over his jersey I’m wearing, which has become my favorite thing to sleep in when he’s gone, and a smile touches my lips as an idea forms in my head.
Pulling out my phone and knowing exactly how I’m going to tell him and what I need to do, I begin to search for the exact thing I have in mind.
FORTY
KNOX
Sweat dripsfrom my brow as I push myself to do the last rep before lowering the weights to the rack on either side of my head.
“Impressive,” McCormick nods, handing me a towel.
“You might want to take some of the weights off. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” I grin. Wiping my face, I trade places with him as I spot the next set.
“That’s cute,” he laughs, lying down on his back and lifting the weights above his head, “but we both know I’m going to match you.”
I watch him do the same amount of reps and keep pace with my weights. A smirk plays on his lips when he reaches my number and grunts one extra before I help him secure the bar back on the rack. Grabbing the towel he’s been using, I throw it at his head.
“I hope you feel that extra one in the morning.”
Chuckling, he sits up and grabs his water bottle, running the towel through his dark hair.
I sit across from him and chug some water before confiding in him.
“I’m proposing to Savi this weekend.”
He eyes me over the water bottle he was drinking before lowering it slowly.
“That was fast,” he says, surprised.
“No point in waiting when I know what I want.”
“No, I guess not,” he chuckles softly. His grey eyes flash with sadness before he quickly recovers. “I’m happy for you, man. I really am,” he says, smiling briefly. “Does her family know?”
“I’ve already asked her parents for their blessing on the night of the gala. Her brothers know my intention,” I say, lifting my water bottle and taking another deep drink.
“I can’t imagine that was easy,” he chuckles. “You’ve what? Known Miles since you were kids?”
“Thirteen. The motherfucker hit me,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my jaw at the memory.
“You were fucking his sister,” he laughs. “And you’re his best friend. I would have done the same damn thing.”
“That’s why I let him have that one hit,” I grin before turning serious. He’s the only person I know who grew up in a similar environment and would understand some of what I’m feeling.
“What if I fuck this up?” I ask quietly. “Not just marriage, but what comes with it. I know she wants kids. We’ve talked about starting a family after we get married, but what if…” I break off the sentence and sigh frustratedly.
“What if you what?”
“He’s my fucking dad,” I say quietly. “His DNA runs through me. What if I can’t love our kids as much as I love my wife? What if…” I swallow the lump in my throat that suddenly wants to suffocate me. “What if something goes wrong with apregnancy and something happens to her? I can’t live without her, McCormick,” I say, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t even want to fucking try.”
Sighing, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees as he bows his head and aggressively runs his fingers through his hair before clasping them together at the nape of his neck.
“Fuck,” he whispers, still looking down at the ground.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to stir up old shit.” I know better than anyone how one single trigger can throw you right back into hell in the blink of an eye.
“No, it’s okay,” he says quietly, lifting his head. “Just takes me by surprise sometimes.”
McCormick and I both have skimmed the surface of our pasts in conversations, mainly about the charity we want to start, but neither of us goes into details, not wanting to dredge up the past. I can only assume from the pain on his face right now that he’s been through it…is still going through it.
