Page 39 of Pumped

Not that he ever looked at me that way. I wasn’t good enough for that, wasn’t cool enough to warrant his time. I was too nerdy, too serious, too much of a rule-follower. He’d walk right past me as if I was invisible. He’d speak right over me as if my voice was inaudible. I didn’t exist to him.

Well, good fucking riddance. If he was going to treat me like shit, then I would treat him the same—even if he was the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on.

Things are different now, though. Yes, Everest is still as pretty as he was the first time we met. But perhaps he isn’t as empty-headed as I’ve always believed him to be. He’s a person. Who has feelings. Who can get hurt. And he doesn’t deserve to be my emotional punching bag, no matter how little I might think of him. I owe him an apology.

If he ever decides to come home.

He’s probably out with his gym bro friends. At a club. Drinking. Dancing. Losing himself to the music as his body undulates and rolls. His hair will be damp with sweat. His shirt will outline the contours of his muscles. Someone will be watching him from across the busy club. Their gazes lock. Intentions communicated with nothing but a look. They meet in the shadows of the club, in corners just dark enough to release their inhibitions. Nerves and anticipation ratchet up while enroute to the hotel room. Then the inevitable explosion of lust the second the door clicks shut behind them.

I know it well. I was that someone all those years ago. I still remember it.

Every single second.

My gut clenches with an emotion I don’t want to examine too closely. Technically, I can’t blame Everest for finding someone to hook up with. We didn’t vow to become celibate when we took custody of Ivy. He’s still his own man. He can sleep with whomever he wishes.

But he has responsibilities now, damn it. Someone who depends upon him, who needs him to be here, to do his part. He shouldn’t be gallivanting around with strangers when I’m—whenIvy’swaiting for him at home.

I eventually fall asleep with Ivy curled up next to me on the couch. I don’t know how long I’ve been out for or what time it is when I feel a hand settle gently on my knee.

The room is dark and my vision is bleary when I open my eyes. But I don’t need light to recognize the shape of Everest’s shoulders and the tilt of his head as he crouches down in front of me.

He removes his hand when he sees that I’m awake and my knee feels cold without his touch.

“I’ll take her to bed,” he murmurs.

I don’t object as he gathers Ivy in his arms and lifts her from the couch. I rub my eyes and run my hands down my face. My stubble is getting a little too long to mistake for a five o’clock shadow. It’s been several days since I’ve found the time to shave, and at this point, I might just give up and let it grow out.

Everest carries Ivy up the stairs. I shut off the TV and carry the empty popcorn bowls to the kitchen. I’m clearing up the dishes from dinner when he comes back down.

“I said you didn’t have to wait up for me.”

I stiffen at the implication. That I was waiting for him, worried he wasn’t home yet. That I care.

“I didn’t.” That wasn’t why I was still downstairs in the middle of the night. I was tired. I fell asleep. It had nothing to do with Everest. So I tell myself.

He doesn’t respond, just leans his hip against the kitchen island, his crossed arms making his biceps look way bigger than they have any right to be. He watches as I load up the dishwasher and wet a rag to wipe down the counter.

Silence weighs heavily in the air between us, thick and suffocating. I can hear my heart beating. I can hear the rush of air in and out of my lungs.

“Where were you?” The question pops out in my desperate attempt to cut through the unease.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I answer too quickly for it to be true. My back is to Everest, but I hear his eye roll all the same.

“I went out with the guys.”

I knew it. My hackles rise. “Got yourself some hot ass?” I cringe and grind my teeth together. I sound like a jealous lover. I shouldn’t care what he did or who he did it with. He could fuck half the city and it shouldn’t matter. So why is there a red, hot, churning mass in my stomach? Why do I feel the urge to punch some nameless faceless person on the jaw?

Everest huffs and mutters something under his breath.

Anger has me spinning around and I growl at him. “What was that?”

His gaze bores into me, eyes shadowed not only by the late hour but also by weeks of non-stop go-go-go. Fatigue wafts off him. It’s in the slump of his shoulders, the dark smudges under his eyes, the heaviness in his body he never used to have before we moved into the house together.

The sight of him is a bucket of cold water on my rage.

He’s just as tired as I am. He’s just as sad as I am. I might not like it, but we’re the only two people in the entire world who know what it’s like to be here right now. He also lost a sibling he was close to. His life was also upended. He also became a parent to a little girl overnight and was forced to share a house with someone he hates.

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