But as I got older, that light started to feel like something I shouldn’t reach for. Like maybe I was taking up space that wasn’t mine. They deserved to be a family without me glued to their side, and I needed to find my own family.
Even when I moved away, the invitations kept coming, and I started saying I had other plans. Truth was, most nights I sat in my crappy apartment alone. Pretended I was fine. Pretended I didn’t need what I couldn’t bring myself to accept. Like if I showed up, I’d just be the friend tagging along. Not really part of them.
They never made me feel unwelcome. That was all me. Immature thoughts I let come between me and the people who loved me. My time in LA made me appreciate what they offered, and also regret not accepting it. Regret missing time with them before their passing. I scrub a hand over my face and crank the volume louder, drowning the thought.
The squat rack bolts tighten under my hands. I grin a little, because this—this gym—is the one thing Aiden and I always swore we’d do. Back in college, buried in kinesiology textbooks and living on shitty protein bars, we’d sit in the library at OregonState University, drawing up fake business plans. We were glued together then. Every lecture, every late-night cram session, every dumb bet.
Then I left.
He stayed.
We stayed in contact, always. But the distance stretched, and it wasn’t just miles. Sometimes it felt like I’d cut myself away from the one person who ever really saw me. That didn’t stop him from including me in his life as much as possible, texting most days. Visits whenever we could. Then video calls when his daughter, Rose, came along, giving me space in their life even when I was far away. I’m grateful he didn’t let me drift too far.
And now here we are. Two idiots dreaming the same dream we had at twenty. Only now, seven years later, it’s actually happening.
Gabe was always there on the sidelines. Patient, thoughtful, watching everything. I used to wonder what it would take to pull him into the fray with us completely. But Gabe was different, his nature was quiet and gentle. We were noise and chaos.
Even as a child, I noticed him. There was a stillness about Gabe that made me want to slow down. Made me want to pay attention. He was calm when my home life was stormy.
I take a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Every time I think of him, my stomach flutters—for all the places I’ve traveled, all the people I’ve come across—he’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.
I always thought the crush I developed when I was fifteen would disappear, but every time I’ve seen him over the years, I feel that same pang of longing. One I’ve never told my best friend about.
I groan into the empty gym, running my hands through my already messy blond waves. Of course my best friend’s brotherwould have to be the loveliest man in existence. One that’s never shown an ounce of interest in me romantically.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Love that for me.
The song changes—“Hooked on a Feeling” this time—right as the front door opens.
“Christ, Noah.” Aiden’s voice cuts across the music, dry as bone. He shoulders in with two coffees. “How do you listen to this shit?”
I throw my head back and cackle, his face is priceless—all scrunched nose and narrowed eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know the words. Go on, gimme a verse.”
He glares, deadpan. “Not a chance.”
“No fun.” I snatch one of the cups before he can change his mind and keep both. I take a sip and lift my pinky eloquently, adopting a posh accent. “You don’t appreciate my fine taste.”
Aiden mutters something about my definition of fine taste being a crime against his eardrums, but he’s fighting a smile.
He peels his damp hoodie off and flings it toward the half-built front desk, his short dark hair a mess. He leans against the desk, tattooed arm coming up as he sips his coffee. The light shifts across a sleeve of delicate flowers as his eyes sweep the room.
The space has an industrial look, huge windows facing the street, pipes, and wiring exposed above in a purposeful way.
The music is too loud now, Aiden still grumbling about it—everything feels… right. Like I’ve stepped back into a rhythm I was always supposed to belong to. My best friend, our gym, and a town that welcomes people with open arms.
I notice the look in Aiden’s eyes. His jaw works, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s turning something over.
I narrow my own eyes back. “What’s that face about?”
Aiden doesn’t answer right away, taking a long sip of coffee, buying time.
“Don’t,” I warn, pointing at him over the rim of my cup. “Not before I’ve had more caffeine. I can’t handle serious Aiden on an empty tank.”
His mouth quirks, but the look stays. If he’s got something to say, it’s important. I take a large mouthful. “Alright. Spit it out. What’s the look for?”
He hesitates, fingers drumming on the side of his cup, sorting through whatever’s sitting on his tongue.
