The pay was decent—a necessity as Aunt Blaire never manifested much cash with her potions and witchy healing arts. Their lives weren’t expensive, but they weren’t free either. Luckily Sean had scored a cheap Honda Nighthawk from a buddy of his at the gym a couple years back. Before that, it had been constant carpooling and fighting over who got the car.
Sean entered the fitness area and spotted his next appointment at once. “Hey, Carl!” He took the hand of his sixty-eight-year-old client, beaming at the guy.
Grumpy as hell, Carl only tolerated Sean’s existence because his daughter demanded he undergo a fitness regimen after his heart attack two years ago. The old man’s strength and stamina had increased substantially since Sean had begun working with him, but his attitude hadn’t improved in the slightest, and Sean reveled in it.
Carl’s frown creased every wrinkle in his face to its maximum depth. “What torture you got for me today, boy?”
He held up a resistance band, offering his most charming smile. “It’s time.”
Glaring as if personally offended, Carl waved an irritated hand at it. “Nuh-uhh. No way. That thing smacked my ass last time you made me use it.”
Sean spun the band in an innocent circle. “Come on, Carl. It’s joint friendly. It’s low impact.And,” he added, leaning in for effect, “it’s time to face your fears.”
Carl marched toward the exit. “Bah!”
Well apprised of Carl’s antics, Derek, Sean’s fellow trainer, stepped into the man’s path, hands raised to stop him. “Heather will lose it if you leave now.”
“My daughter isn’t my boss!”
“Isn’t she though?” Sean asked, still grinning, fully aware that Carl was all bluster.
The patrons of the center, from the free weights all the way to the treadmills, cheered for Carl to try it out. Typical small-town eavesdropping softened by small-town love.
Derek slithered off as the old man stopped in his tracks. His sparse gray hair glinted in the sunlight from the nearby window when he spun to face Sean. “You’re a menace, Sean Archer.”
“I know,” Sean said, same as every other time Carl had thrown that insult. “But you love it. You’re stronger than you ever were.”
The proud glint in his client’s eye was promising. Flattery never failed, though it was also the truth. In their time together, the man had transformed from frail to sturdy. Carl was Sean’s greatest success story—proof that hard work and tenacity paid off.
“And aren’t we all bossed around by one woman or another?” Sean added, thinking of his aunt.
Carl let out a single laugh.
“Your daughter loves you. She just wants you healthy.” Sean raised the band again. “Thiswill put her mind at ease.”
He grunted and ultimately relented, though Sean didn’t make him do squats with the thing. If Carl got smacked on his ass once more, Sean was sure he’d never see the guy again.
When the session was over, Carl clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, kid. Tell your aunt I’m ready for a new batch of her joint lotion.”
“Will do.” Sean didn’t question how the man knew it was his birthday. Everyone knew everything in this town.
“And brush your hair. You’ll never catch a girl with that mess.” He paused, then added, “Or a boy.”
Sean glanced in the mirror behind the free weights, laughing at the riotous waves now wet with sweat across his brow. His tawny brown skin glistened, and for the flicker of an instant, Sean thought he saw a sparkle of light reflected deep in hisblue eyes, but when he looked closer, he saw nothing. He shook himself. “I’ll see you next week, Mr. Hannity.”
Carl pulled on his jacket. “Yeah, yeah. Every Wednesday for the past two years. Don’t you ever take a break? Get out of town? I’m sick of your face.”
“Nope,” Sean said. “I’ll be here forever.” His stomach clenched as the words emerged.
Forever.
Was it true? Would he really be trapped there forever?
Carl waved a dismissive hand at him. “Forever’s a long time. You’re young. The itch will get you sooner or later.”
“The itch?”
The old man’s bark of a laugh made him smile. “To get out, see the world while your knees still bend when you want them to.”
