“Do you need to go in?” I ask, making my way over to him. I swipe my water bottle from the cubby and take a big swig, arms still shaking.
“No, it’s my buddy Asher. He’s a firefighter and they’re doing a stair climb this Saturday at Raymond James. It’s a fundraiser. He’s asking if I’ll be on his team.”
“His team?”
Greg nods. “It just means I’ll climb the stadium with him, get people to pledge they’ll pay a dollar a step on our team’s landing page, that sort of thing.”
“Let’s do it.”
Greg pauses, arching a brow at me with his hands hovering over the text. “Let’s?”
“Yeah,” I say, instantly flushing and tucking my hair behind one ear. “I mean, if you want someone else on the team, that is. I haven’t done anything like this in a long time, since David was in school, and I ran fundraisers all the time for the PTA.”
My voice fades, heart aching in a foreign way that makes me press my fingertips over my chest to soothe it.
I miss that, I realize distantly.
Greg’s eyes are softer when I look at him again, and he nods, offering a small smile. “It would fit with our breaking out of the comfort zone theme, wouldn’t it?”
“It may also fit in the breaking Amanda’s legs theme but hey, I’ve climbed a wall, what’s a little stadium?”
Greg barks out a laugh, eyebrows shooting up as he texts his buddy back. “Alright, then. I told him we’re in.”
“Sweet,” I say. Then, I look back up at the wall, shaking my head with my hands on my hips. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“I can.”
I flush again, looking at Greg for just a split second before I start gathering my things. “We better get going. School night and all.”
Greg nods, chewing the inside of his cheek like he’s biting back something he wants to say. Whatever it is, he holds it in, getting his own things together before we make our way out to his car.
“We almost got kicked out for our language back there.”
I snicker. “Unsurprised.”
“We need a hand sign. A secret one that no one else knows, and one we can’t get in trouble for.”
He pauses by his car, looking at his hand with a concentrating frown before he holds it up. His thumb is straight, fingers curled so the tips of them touch the middle of his thumb right between the joints.
“A b,” he says, twisting his wrist until I see the shape correctly. “For badass bitch.”
I laugh, mimicking the sign on my own hand. “How about just b for badass?”
Greg smiles. “Perfect.”
The drive to his condo downtown is quiet, music from my playlist softly playing while we ride with the windows down. And when he pulls into one of the temporary parking spots in front of his building, he cuts the engine, staring at the steering wheel for a moment.
“I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
He nods, a little smile on his lips. “Yeah. I forgot what it feels like, to do something fun, something not planned.” He shakes his head. “I get so stuck in my routine sometimes, in working out and eating right and giving my all at the hospital. I really wanted to make a good impression when I first got the job, you know? But now, I have the reputation. Everyone knows me, trusts me, relies on me.” He pauses. “But I didn’t realize how much life I’d given up in the process.”
He grabs the back of his neck, frowning like he’s just realized it.
“Sometimes, I have entire weeks go by in a blur. It’s just wake up, work out, spend the whole day at the hospital, eat dinner, watch a little TV, go to bed, repeat.” He drops the hold on his neck, head hitting the headrest behind him. “How sad is that?”
I sigh, nodding in understanding. “It’s not sad. It’s easy to do with narrow focus like that. But it’s not a bad thing. Your job is important. You help people. You take away their pain.”
Greg smiles, but it’s weak, falling to soon. “Yeah.”
I watch him for a moment before playfully slugging his arm. “Hey, that was just one thing off our list. Don’t worry. I promise not to let you down. Accountability Partner, ready for duty,” I say in a stern voice, sitting up taller in my seat and saluting him.
That finally breaks him into a small laugh, but then his eyes are on me, the silence of the night suddenly louder than any music we had playing. I feel the humid air moving in on us through the windows, wrapping us up in a place that feels like it’s just for us.
Greg swallows, his eyes tracing my features. He grips the steering wheel tight, like if he doesn’t hold onto that, he’ll put those hands on me, instead.
God, how I want him to.
That thought slaps me into the present, and I shake my head, smiling as I reach for the door handle. “Get upstairs and get some sleep. This girl needs to get home. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow morning.”
Greg smiles, but again — it’s weak, and he doesn’t say a word as he opens his door and stands there waiting for me. He holds it open until I slide inside the driver seat, taking his place, and then he shuts it, leaning in through the open window.
“Thank you for tonight,” he says, his eyes searching mine, lips too close for me to feel in control in any way. “You were amazing, by the way. I never doubted you would be, but I hope you see it now, too.”
My heart thumps hard in my chest, propelling me forward, toward him, into him.
Your son’s best friend.
I force the thought to the forefront of my mind, and then clear my throat, tearing eyes away from Greg and facing the steering wheel, instead.
I punch my thumb into the ignition button. “Goodnight, Greg,” I manage, and then I barely give him enough time to remove himself from the open window before I’m speeding off toward the highway.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GREG
“This isn’t working.”
I chuckle, peeking my eyes open to find Amanda staring wide-eyed back at me, her shoulders slumped, arms crossed in stubborn resistance.
“That’s because you’re not giving it a chance.”
“False. I am giving it a chance. And it’s proving to me that it’s stupid and I was right about it all along.”
I pause the meditation on my phone, a guided one I picked out to kick off practicing with Amanda. I remember how hard it was when I first got started, how my mind would race, and I’d have to itch my nose or sigh and check the time left on the mediation every ten seconds. And that’s not to say I don’t still have days like that sometimes, but from practice, I’ve learned to just accept what is, to embrace my meditation for whatever it has to offer me that day.
Of course, it’s taken me years to get to this place.
“What’s frustrating you?” I ask.
She sighs, and in the low light coming from my essential oils diffuser, I see her brows furrow.
“It’s too early, for one thing. I just want to fall asleep.”
“That’s fair,” I tell her. “But that’s why we sit up with a straight back.”
“Yes, but then my mind starts racing. I’m just sitting here thinking about everything I have to do today, and I’m annoyed that I have to sit here and wait to do them when I could get started.”