Zac’s sock-covered toes tapped against the floor and the sound of his steady puffing told me he was there. His hand came to rest over mine and I elongated my fingers upward to link through his.
“Maybe things won’t work out, but maybe they will. You’ll never know unless you try, and if you don’t try, you’ll probably end up an old geezer wondering what would have happened if you hadn’t given up,” I warned him before letting go of his hand and reaching around to give him a one-armed hug.
That had him snickering.
“You’re okay on money?” I wasn’t rich by some standards, but I had my savings still, and I was proud of how much I’d set aside all on my own.
“I’m okay,” he assured me.
I figured he was. He wasn’t extravagant. “If you decide to stay, I’ll even let you run this marathon in February with me if you’re a good boy,” I added, pulling him into my side for another side hug.
His back stiffened. “You’re going to run a marathon?”
“Why do you think I’ve been running?”
“Because you’re bored?”
I’d done more research on the training process that was suggested for people running their first marathon, and I couldn’t see anyone doing it because they were bored. “No. I just want to do it. I haven’t had time to train for one before, and I like the idea of it being a challenge.” Plus, I wanted to prove something to myself. Do something for my poor knee. I wanted to remind it that it could do whatever it wanted to. That it wasn’t anyone’s bitch.
I wanted to know that nothing was impossible and give my sister a big fuck you for what she had done to me.
I leaned into his side and let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed over the entire weekend. “Are you in or what?”
The long Texan let out a deep sigh.
“What? You’re going to be a loser and back out?”
His face angled slightly toward me. The corner of his mouth hooking up. “What do I get out of it?”
“The same thing I do—personal satisfaction that you did something you couldn’t do before.”
The smile that came across Zac’s face wiped out any lingering resentment I had right then over Aiden’s behavior, at least. Those blue eyes twinkled and he radiated something awesome. “You are just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, darlin’？ Do something you couldn’t do before. Well, fuck it. Count me in to this trial of terror.”
Yeah, I might have squealed, surprised he’d actually taken up my offer. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Just like that, his smile drooped a little. “How many miles is a marathon again?”
I winced, not wanting to kill our agreement before it even got started. “You don’t want to know, Zac.” Sliding my arm off, I gave the middle of his back a solid pat. “You don’t want to know.”
“Fuck me, huh?”
“Basically.”
He grinned and I grinned right back at him.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I nodded. “I’m always going to be okay.”
* * *
An hour or two later, I was lying in bed with one of my favorite movies on, the volume on ultra-low—I had the captions on—when three soft knocks tapped on my door.
Three. It was Aiden.
After a moment, three more low, low, low knocks hit the door.
I kept my mouth shut and went right on watching Independence Day.
He could take his real wife and shove her up his ass.
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re up early,” I noted dryly as Zac dragged his feet behind him into the kitchen.
The big Texan raised two sleepy eyebrows in my direction. If I didn’t know any better, the expression on his face would lead me to think he was drunk, but he was just really tired. “Mm-hmm.”
Okay. Someone wasn’t in the mood to talk, and that was fine by me. It wasn’t like I’d woken up in a fantastic state of mind. It didn’t help that the first thing I did after I was awake was call Diana’s brother so I could tell him about what I’d seen the day before, only for him to let me know that one of his sons had already told him about them a couple days ago.
“I tried talking to her, but she said she hit her hip,” he’d explained.
So she was keeping her story straight; I still didn’t believe it. “I don’t believe her.”
Her brother had made a hesitant sound that left a bad taste in my mouth. “I don’t know, Van. I don’t like that douche as much as you do, but I don’t think D would lie about it.”
That was the problem with growing up in a family that was usually honest and open with each other—you didn’t know the lengths someone would go to hide something shameful. And I knew right then that unless Diana blatantly told her brother that Jeremy was getting physical, or unless she ended up with a black eye, he wouldn’t assume the worst.
The conversation had been pointless, only adding to the aggravation simmering under my veins for days. I was perfectly fine admitting to myself that when I hadn’t been tossing and turning last night, I’d been wide awake, thinking about all the things I shouldn’t. All the things I knew better than to let bother me, but it was impossible to ignore them when they’d all hit me so hard. One after another, nip, nip, nipping away at my resolve.
Aiden. My mom. Susie. Diana.
My technically husband. My mom. My sister—though I still wanted DNA reports to confirm that connection. My best friend of my entire life.
Was there anyone in this world I could trust? I could rely on? Only myself it felt like sometimes. You would figure I’d know better by now.
The sound of weights clinking together in the gym down the hall had me scowling. Someone had already been busy working out by the time I’d come down the stairs. While most athletes took their bye week off to vacation or spend time with their families, the big guy didn’t. Hadn’t.
I should have known better.
By the time I was done talking myself into pushing thoughts of them away, Zac had nuked some oatmeal in the microwave and dumped a cup full of toppings on it, taking the seat opposite mine at the breakfast nook. A part of a puzzle Aiden was working on decorated the middle of the table. Zac and I happened to glance at each other at the same time, and we smiled at one another, his a tired one and mine an aggravated-but-I’m-trying-not-to-be one.
My tablet sat next to my bowl of cereal; I had been absently flipping through page after page of a website that sold T-shirt designs from freelance artists. I’d sold some of my work on there in the past, and I was looking to see if any designs gave me ideas to work on today, unless I got an unexpected last minute request.
The doorbell ringing once—not long enough to be annoying but not too short to be ignored—had me getting to my feet. “I got it.”
The face on the other side of the peephole had me smiling a little. Leslie didn’t deserve my bitch face when I only saw him a couple times a year. “Good morning,” I greeted as I opened the door.
“Wonderful morning to you, Vanessa.” Leslie smiled back. “After you.”
A gentleman. That had me genuinely smiling as I stepped back and let him in, watching as he closed the door.