“Yep. She’s back here now, though, running her grandparents’ bakery.” Her dripping hair and the ruined cabinet flashed through his mind. “She’s got her work cut out for her. The oven is ancient, and she’ll need to update some other things as well. The pipes under the main sink burst and leaked all over the floor.”
“Sounds like she needs a handyman,” Seth said, waggling his eyebrows so no one could miss his meaning. “Know anybody like that?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” His breath came in shorter bursts. “I’m not sure how much time I’ll have between my other odd jobs and the youth center.”
“Speaking of the youth center,” Jack said, “what’s up with the furnace? Colleen mentioned they need a new one.”
“Uh-huh,” Sammy said. His legs burned with the pace he’d set. “It’s kaput. I checked it out to see if I could convince it to run a while longer, but it’s a no go.”
“Too bad. A lot of kids depend on that place.” As mayor, Seb kept tabs on things like that. “I think it’s great you’re tutoring Ben and some of the other kids.”
“Someone has to make sure he stays on the baseball team. We need a win at state this year,” Sammy said. “I know I wouldn’t have stayed on the football team if someone hadn’t helped me.”
“Was this someone named Robin?” Boone’s voice singsonged in a tease. The group laughed.
“Remember our junior year when we went to state?” Seth said. “You took us all the way that night.”
Sammy remembered the game in living color.
“We were down by two points, ten seconds left in the second half.” Seth warmed to his subject. “The quarterback ran long for a deep pass into the end zone, Sammy making a way for him, clearing green-and-yellow uniforms the whole way.” Using the heavy bag, Seth mimed Sammy pushing the opposing players out of the way. “Just as the quarterback stretched high for the catch in the end zone, our boy Sammy here spotted a linebacker out of the corner of his eye. He pivoted and leaped—he practically flew—taking down our opponent a breath before the player could tackle the quarterback.” Seth raised his gloved hands in the air in a Rocky pose. “The crowd went wild.” He danced around the heavy bag. Around them, the other men chuckled.
Sammy’s chest swelled as he recalled the fans chanting his name.
“Too bad we couldn’t stay in high school forever,” Seth said. He sighed dramatically and put a hand to his chest.
“C’mon, Seth. Don’t pretend. We both know married life is a lot better than high school,” Boone said.
“You got me there. You’re absolutely right,” Seth said. He began clearing up the weights. “Speaking of married life, it’s time for me to get home to my wife, gents.”
A prick, and the balloon in Sammy’s chest deflated. Most of the guys here had someone to go home to. Meanwhile, he was still living with his mom. And yet, moving back out to his lot and trailer all alone didn’t hold any appeal either. He pictured cold, lonely nights without the benefit of being able to bike into town. “Don’t bother with those weights, Seth. I’ll clean up.”
“I’m heading out too,” Seb said. Boone followed them out.
Jack handed Sammy a bottle of disinfectant and a rag, and the two men wiped down the equipment. “How are you really doing?” Jack asked. “And I don’t mean physically.”
“I’m making it.” Sammy swiped at the sweat drops he’d left on the treadmill, washing away the evidence he’d been there. In his pocket, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw a reminder to take his meds. He slid the phone back in and his pill case out. Just as he flipped the cap, the case slipped out of his hand.
Great. Pills everywhere.
Across from him, Jack stilled. “Dude. Those looked like Vicodin. Are you still taking opioids?”
Sammy bent to pick up the pills. Two, three…where was that last one? “What? No. I’m not on any pain meds.”
Jack took a step closer. “There’s one under the treadmill. Listen, if you’re using as a way to cope, you can tell me.”
Wait… “I’m not using.”
“I know what I can see.” Jack thrust out a hand toward the pills in his hand.
“These are a prescription. Drop it, Jack.”
Jack propped his arm on the weight machine. “I’m just saying—”
“They’re seizure meds, okay?” Sweat popped out on his brow. “I have to take Neurontin for seizures.”
“Oh.” Jack lowered his shoulders. “I’m sorry, man. I should’ve known better.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sammy retrieved the final capsule from under the treadmill and stood up. “I just don’t like to talk about it.”
