“But I'm leaving first thing,” I add quickly, as if I need to maintain some boundary, some control.
“Of course.” He nods, then holds out his hand. “Come back to bed?”
I hesitate, then take his hand. With one last moment of hesitation, I slide my fingers into his and let him pull me back to the warmth of his bed. He settles us both down, tucking me against his chest like I belong there.
“I'm not going to read too much into this,” he murmurs against my hair. “I promise.”
I don't respond, but I let my body relax against his. Just for tonight.
His arm drapes over me again, heavy and secure. I can feel his heartbeat against my back, steady and strong. My eyelids grow heavy despite my determination to stay alert, to maintain some distance.
“Goodnight, Delilah,” he whispers.
I close my eyes, surrendering to exhaustion. “Goodnight, Troy.”
29
TROY
“Dude, have you spoken to Ethan lately?” Freddie asks me mid-set.
“Kinda,” I grunt, pushing through the burning in my chest. Damn, has my chest got weak or something? I swear this shit feels tougher than last week.
Freddie nods, racking his weights. “Yeah, neither have I. I think he's still broken up about Paige. He's pretending he's okay, but I don't think he is.”
“You think we should do something?” I ask, wiping my brow with a sweat towel. It's a nice perk of Freddie being manager at the gym—free towels to borrow every time.
He shrugs, eyeing me as I add another plate to the bar. “Yeah, but I dunno what. I've never seen him like this. All mopey and shit. It's disturbing. He's usually the one cracking jokes and getting us out of our heads.”
I nod, positioning myself under the bar again. “I know. It's fucked up. Even though we seemed to get him out of his shell a couple times, he's definitely not 'bounced' back to his normal, crazy self.”
“You tried talking to him?” Freddie asks, spotting me.
I push out three more reps before answering. “Yeah. He just deflects. Cracks a joke. Changes the subject. Master of avoiding anything real.”
“Sound like anyone we know?” Freddie says pointedly.
I ignore the comment, focusing on my form. “It's hard to help someone who won't admit they need it.”
“Yeah, saying you're fine all the time and holding shit in doesn't really work,” I add, moving aside so Freddie can do his set. “Not a great long-term strategy.”
He pauses and eyes me, one eyebrow raised.
“Coming from you?”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Freddie laughs, and I genuinely don't get the joke.
“Well, you're sort of the king of pretending everything's okay. I don't think you've come to me with a problem the entire time I've known you.”
I scrunch my face up. “Start your set, man.”
He shakes his head but takes position under the bar. I spot him carefully, watching his form. After he's finished his set, he sits up, breathing hard.
“You did it again just then,” he says between breaths. “You're always pretending you're good.”
“Because I am good.” I grin, offering him the towel.
