Traci groaned again as she moved her feet into position and sank into some awkward knee bend.
“Slowly, Traci!” Shannon called out.
“I’m trying to go slow.” She was also now trying to get up without making a fool of herself.
After another ten minutes of torture, she stepped away at last. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I’m going for a run.”
Shannon paused in her latest movement, which involved one arm stretched out to the side while she bent her torso backward. “Are you sure?”
“So sure.”
“Okay. Well, at least you tried, right?”
“Right. Um, you’re not mad that I hate this with every fiber of my being, are you?” Shannon was constantly trying to get all of them to do fun, bonding things together. Traci didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Mad that you don’t want to do ballet with me? Not at all.”
“Thanks. Um, you can go running with me one day if you want.”
Shannon looked alarmed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll stick to sweating indoors.”
“Fair enough. Well, girls, I’m outta here.”
“Hey, Trace!” Kimber called out before she got to the door.
“Yeah?”
Kimber lowered her voice. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little more on edge than usual. Are you still worried about Gwen?”
She was on edge, even though she’d been doing her best to pretend she wasn’t. Gwen had seemed particularly stressed when she’d visited her that morning. She’d even been short with Dr. Rossi, which she never had been before. Something was up with her. But Traci knew better than to worry about her too much—Gwen Camp had multiple issues that one concerned cop couldn’t fix in just a couple of days. “I’m all right.”
“Are you sure?” Shannon asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Gwen might not be, but that wasn’t her problem, right? She was a cop, not a social worker.
After giving her sisters another half smile, she ran up to her room, put on a pair of shorts, a tank top, and her favorite running shoes, and then headed over to the kitchen to grab some water and her earbuds.
Their newest roommate, Jennifer, was chopping up vegetables at the counter. She grinned at Traci. “You clocked out of barre ballet, too?”
“Too? Shannon tried to get you to do it?”
“Well, she offered. I told her that I was not quite ready to get on board with that.”
“At least she listened to you. I tried to get out of it, but it didn’t go over too well.”
“Shannon has been dancing so long that I think she’s forgotten how the rest of us mortals feel when we enter her classroom.”
“Hopelessly clumsy?”
“I was thinking more like a little flabby and a lot intimidated.”
“No worries, I feel the same way when I watch you cook. You can make anything taste good. What are you making for dinner, by the way?”
“Stir fry.”
“Oh, yum. With pork?”
“No. Tofu.”
She groaned. “Really?”
Jennifer smiled. “Come on. It’s not so bad. Plus, you said you liked it last time.”
“I also liked stir fry with pork. Or beef. Chicken. You know, real food.”
“Tofu is real. Well, real enough.” She went back to slicing peppers. “Anyway, it’s as a favor for Kimber. She asked for it. She’s leaving on Friday for another photo shoot.”
“I forgot about that.” Now that she realized how many accommodations Kimber had to make in order to look good in tiny pieces of designer clothes, she shrugged. “Tofu stir fry is fine with me.”
“I am also making a coconut cake.”
Jennifer could both cook and bake like a dream. But no matter how many things she did well, she created the most amazing cakes. “Get out. Why?”
She smiled. “Dylan and Shannon are joining us for dinner before they go back to their place. He asked me to make it for him.”
Shannon’s brand-new husband was Jennifer’s older brother and Traci’s partner on the police force. It was a lot of connections, but it seemed to work. “You are the best sister.”
“I’m his only sister,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t mind, though. He’s done so much for me.”
“You know he’d say that you don’t owe him a thing.” Jennifer had been stalked by one of the members of a gang who had attacked her, and Dylan had supported her through all of it.
“It doesn’t mean that’s the way that I feel, though.” She winked. “I’m trying to own my emotions, just like my therapist has been encouraging me to do. What do you think?”
“I think I need to take some lessons from you. I seem to own everyone’s emotions.” And problems.
Jennifer’s easygoing smile faltered. “That’s not good.”
“I know.” She kicked out a shoe. “That’s why I’m going for a run. I’ve got to get a handle on it.” Like, before she exploded.
“Have a good time.”
Traci grabbed earbuds, slipped on her CamelBak, and began a slow jog down to the bike trail that ran along the river through the middle of Bridgeport. The moment she reached the trail, she felt her body relax.
She wasn’t a ballet barre type of woman, no matter how much Shannon wanted her to be. Traci needed space and good old-fashioned push-ups, sit-ups, and four-mile runs. Sure, it was probably a product of her upbringing. Desiree, one of the women who ran the group home had been a terrific runner and had encouraged all the kids to join in and keep her company.
But even if it was just a product of how she grew up, she’d take it. Desiree had been awesome and had encouraged her to do things she didn’t think were possible. Like entering the police academy and accepting the toughest job she could get—working for the Cleveland police force.
Her steps slowed as she remembered how tough that woman had been, and yet so giving. A perfect combination for Traci. Desiree had changed her life.
Sometimes Traci really believed that God had put her there to give Traci a head start in life.
Which made her wonder if He had done the same thing with her and Gwen.
CHAPTER 6
“Listen to my feet and I’ll tell you the story of my life.”
—John Bubbles, father of rhythm tap