Page 41 of The Sidekick

The helpless tears start falling again, and I want to scream at them to stop. I need a break from whatever this is so I can think!

I give it a few minutes, which turns into a nap because when I open my eyes, the sun is going down.

Where am I?

I tilt the seat up and look around at the barren neighborhood around me. This is not the rest stop I thought I had pulled over at. Crap. I’m on someone’s front lawn, I bet. Directly in front of me is a sign I can barely make out through blurry eyes. It’s one giant word, and it’s red. What does that say? I rub my eyes and try again. The clouds part as my vision clears, and a feeble ray of sunlight illuminates the word, making my breath catch.

Therapist.

Holy cow.

This is fate, I’m sure of it.

I somehow find the strength to stumble out of the car, ignoring the wind and snow to struggle inside. When the receptionist looks up with a bored expression, I watch as it morphs into some halfway point between horror and pity. I don’t want to know what I look like to her.

“Please help me. I-I-I think I just need someone to listen for a minute. Please.”

Chapter Fifteen

Asher

“Ash!”

I turn towards the coworker calling me. He’s holding one of the punching bags as someone on the other side whales on it with enough force to rock him back.

“Help,” he squeaks out as he’s almost thrown to the floor.

The kid has no business holding the bag in the first place. I glance around as I rush to brace it, looking for the boxing coach, but he seems to be absent. Once I have a good grip, I nod to the kid to back off. He does it warily as if he’s waiting for me to be tossed. I look more delicate than I am.

The beast on the other side of the bag continues, cursing under his breath with every strike. I don’t know how many sets he’s supposed to do, but he doesn’t let up for another twenty minutes.

When his hits weaken, I call out, “Cool down.” He’s going to feel this later, and it will be ten times worse if he doesn’t stretch.

“What do you mean?” A grumbling voice pants, and I lean around the bag to eye him. He’s a foot taller than I am and roped with muscles that are strained and covered in sweat. His dark hair hangs over his face until he swipes a gloved hand over his forehead to see me with hazel eyes.

“I mean, you need a cool down after working that hard. If you don’t, you're going to hurt yourself. Kind of like you were going to hurt that kid holding your bag.”

He blinks at me in confusion and looks around the mostly empty section.

“He bailed after I took over,” I explain and come out from behind the bag, gesturing him towards the mat.

“Shit, man. Is he ok?”

“Gloves off. And yeah, he’s fine. Probably changing his pants.”

A scoffed laugh comes from behind me, followed by the sound of gloves hitting the mat.

“Pick those up. This isn’t your house,” I automatically tell him and gesture to the cubbies they’re kept in.

He pauses and narrows his eyes on me. I give him a bland look back. “Would you rather present yourself as a slob?”

He rocks back on his heels, glaring at me as he picks up the mess and puts them where they belong, making a big show out of the simple action. I lead him through a cool down and keep an eye out for his teacher, who still hasn’t shown up, while he glares at me and grudgingly follows the movements. When we’re done, I scan him for injuries.

“Rest your hands for the next couple of days and work on your legs,” I suggest as he unwinds his tape.

“You the new teacher or something?” He grumbles.

“No. I’m the guy telling you if you keep up with the shit you were just doing, you will hurt yourself. If that’s the point, then find another gym.”

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