He nodded, and we chewed together in silence. I was looking so intently at his square jaw that his voice caught me off guard. “Do you really want to jump out of a plane?”
“What?”
“On your application, you said you wanted to skydive.”
“You really committed that to memory, huh?” I laughed, vaguely remembering typing that when I put in the application, wine making my fingers a little flirty. “I’ve always wanted to, but there’s a weight limit, so I never tried.”
“We should look into it and see what options you have,” he said, setting down his plate and taking a drink of ice water. “After you feel good about your other goal, of course.”
“My other goal?” I matched his movements, wincing when I leaned forward to set down my plate, and realization swept across me. I want to look and feel good naked. “Oh,” I said, risking a glance at his face. “You remember that, too, huh?”
Wes’s eyebrows lifted. “It was . . . memorable.”
“Well, that’s still number one.” I motioned up and down my body with a flourish, and his gaze followed my hands. I dropped them back to the front pocket of my hoodie. “But, after that, yes. Out the plane I go.”
“You could jump naked. Two birds and all. I’d love to see that.”
My mouth fell open.
“I didn’t . . .” He let out a choked laugh. “Shit. I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
A part of me wished he’d meant the double entendre, and, overcome with lust, he’d lunge across the couch and take me. Of course, that would mean me crying out in pain, since I was covered in bruises.
He leaned forward. “Once you’re healed up, want to try biking or swimming? Both are good cardio, and swimming is good for toning muscles, too. I mean, if you want to stick with FitMi. If you would rather step away, I can make sure you get your money back.”
How could I have been so shortsighted? I’d come close to losing this opportunity and handing the position to Claire. I’d risked a lot. “I’ve always wanted to run. I guess I was never brave enough to start.”
“Okay, we’ll run, then.” He pushed up from the couch and took both of our plates to the kitchen.
“We?”
He rinsed them quickly and spoke over his shoulder. “I’m still your coach.”
“Yeah, my online coach.” I motioned with a pointed finger. “You’re supposed to be digital.”
“Who’d call the paramedics if you tripped and fell?”
“Too soon.”
“Sorry.” His eyes were bright, and I could almost see the wheels of a training program spinning in his head as he glanced at his watch. “I better get going. Running will be good, though.”
What did I get myself into? I bit my lower lip but was already thinking of how this might play out for Body FTW. “I haven’t run since high school gym class, and it didn’t go great then.”
“It will be great now.” He held out a fist and I bumped it, enjoying the warmth of his fingers. “I’ve got you, B.”
26
“ARE YOU LISTENING to me?”
“I heard you, Mom.”
“I’m going out.” She pushed away her uneaten meal, then crossed her arms. I thought she’d be happy about the takeout from Lem’s, but she hadn’t touched it. The late-April air blew through the open window, bringing in sounds of the neighborhood—people talking and laughing, music blaring from somewhere, and traffic.
“You can’t. Not yet.” I nudged the food back toward her. “If you break the rules, you’re going to jail. It was this or rehab, and you refused to go to rehab.”
“I’m caged like an animal.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “You must hate me to make me do this.” Her leg shook under the table. “Both my damn kids hate me. At least in jail, I could talk to people.”
“I don’t hate you.” I reached for her tapping fingers. When Libby and I were kids, we would hold her hands and it would calm her down. I had only brushed hers when she jerked back.
She frantically ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it tousled and fraying out of her ponytail. “Was I that bad of a mom?”
“C’mon,” I started, trying to stay calm.
“I did the best I could with you two.” She paced, twitchy and pulling at her hair. “No one helped me. The teachers you two loved so damn much weren’t feeding you.”