I close the door, lean my back against it, and let my head thump lightly against the wood.
What are you doing, Nat?
I thump my head against the door again, harder this time.
If you aren’t careful you’re going to push away a great guy who actually wants to raise this kid with you.
My chest tightens at the thought. What if he gets tired of this? Of me? What if one day he decides it’s not worth the whiplash and just stops trying?
I’d deserve it. I know I would.
But the thought of Jake giving up on me, on us, makes something painful twist in my stomach.
I push off the door and clean up the kitchen with sharp, angry movements. Shove the bowls in the dishwasher. Wipe down the counter. Try to wipe away the guilt that’s clinging to my skin.
I brush my teeth and climb into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, willing myself to stop spiraling.
My phone buzzes.
Jake
Home safe. Sleep well.
My heart aches. Actually aches. Because all I want right now is for him to be here, in this bed, his arms around me, making me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt in years.
I smile despite myself, something warm flooding my chest.
Natalie
You too.
I setthe phone on my nightstand and close my eyes. I have to do better. I have to figure this out. Before I lose him completely.
sixteen
. . .
Jake
I’ve been comingto the gym more than usual lately, but mostly late at night, when I can’t sleep, when the buzzing under my skin won’t quit. Today, I’m here early, trying to make sense the whiplash of the last few weeks.
I’m on the treadmill, headphones in, not really hearing the playlist, when a hand taps the front bar.
“Look who made it to the gym today,” Wyatt says, stepping next to my treadmill with a grin pasted across his face.
I hit the button to slow my pace down to a walk. “Yeah, sorry man. I’ve been coming at night after I leave Natalie’s place. Burning off some excess energy.”
“Things going well there?” Wyatt asks, and there’s something knowing in his tone.
I blow out a breath and hit stop. The belt slows underneath my feet. “Kind of. It’s…complicated.”
“How?” he asks.
I step off the treadmill and grab my towel. “You done with cardio? Spot me?”
“Sure, man.”
We move over to the benches. I rack the bar, lie back, and take a breath, trying to line my thoughts up with the reps.
