Page 28 of Only You and Me

I ram into Fitz’s torso, leading with my shoulder and driving his huge body back until he hits the wall. Holy hell.

A twinge of guilt niggles at me as he struggles to take a deep breath. But, damn, it’s amazing to get some of the anger out in such a physical way.

When Fitz catches his breath, he says, “Jesus, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

Not caring that the gym floor is dusty and probably covered in sweat droplets from God knows how many people, I flop myself down onto the ground and lie back, looking up at the ceiling. I put a lot of effort into that workout, so I suck in breaths of stale, sweaty man smelling air as I try to slow my respiratory rate. Fitz, clearly harboring no hard feelings for the ass kicking I handed him, passes me a water bottle and lies down next to me. I lean up long enough to chug down half of the bottle of water, then return to my lying position, staring up to avoid looking at Fitz.

“So, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

I snort. “Um, do you know me? Of course I don’t want to talk about it.” Shit, I basically just admitted I’m upset about something. “And there’s not even anything to talk about.”

I sense Fitz staring at me. “Hmm.”

I whip my head to the side and glare at him.

“Hmm? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts a single eyebrow and cocks his head at me.

“You tell me. Emily said you’ve been acting weird since you returned from the Fire Service conference in Las Vegas. Not to mention I’m pretty sure you were imagining someone’s face on those strike pads.”

A sarcastic huff escapes me.I say nothing in response.

“Does it have anything to do with the flowers you got at work?”

“What the actual hell? Men love to say women can’t keep their mouths shut, but you guys at the station are the most gossipy bitches I’ve ever met. Tell me who was running their mouth.” My words come out like a demand.

“Calm down. No one was gossiping about you. I saw them in the trash when I came into work the next day and asked what that was about. One of the guys said you got them and that it was the second time. He also said that you’d thrown both bouquets in the trash.”

I rise off the ground, resting one forearm on my bent knee, and pour the rest of my water down my throat.

“Are you dating someone you haven’t told me about? And, if so, what did he do to piss you off so bad you tossed his flowers?”

Fitz runs his hands through his hair. I know my best friend almost as well as I know myself. He’s worried about me. And I hate that. I don’t need anyone worrying about me, and I certainly don’t want to burden Fitz with my shit.

“I wish it were as simple as that.” I practically whisper the words. Before he can respond, I stand and extend a hand to help him up. “C’mon, we need to hit the showers. We’re supposed to be at Annie and Jack’s for their March Madness finals party in an hour and we still have to stop and pick up Emily.”

Fitz takes my offered hand, but once he’s standing, he doesn’t release it right away. I pin him with a glare. His narrowed eyes and concerned frown warn me he’s about to try to have a moment with me.

“Hey, listen. I’m not, like very good with words, but I love you, Tri. If you need to talk or need me to help you bury a body or something, remember I’ve got a lot of land,”—he smiles, and I roll my eyes in response—“and I’ve got your back. Anything you need.”

I push his shoulder with my free hand. “Can we braid each other’s hair, too?” My voice is dripping with sarcasm, and I fight to hold back a smirk.

When I turn away and head toward the locker rooms, Fitz’s chuckle follows me.

“I thought painting nails would be fun, but if you really want to braid hair instead, we can.”

I open the locker room door and walk through it, letting a laugh escape as I do.

Impressively, Fitz and I shower, get from our gym near Meadow Creek back to Emily’s house to pick her up, and make it to Annie and Jack’s party, all within an hour. It’s nice to see everyone since a lot of our friends are here and if there’s one thing about our friend group I love, it’s that we’re more like a family than we are friends.

The only challenge about being a member of this group is that Ben is a part of it, too. For years, I’ve ignored him anytime we were both present at group things. Every once in a while, though, on a tough day—like after another failed attempt at dating—I can’t hold my snarkiness in and a comment or two, directed at him, slip out in a group setting.

When a few minutes have passed and we’ve all said our hellos, a sense of relief washes over me that Ben isn’t here today. I’m worked up about the accidental marriage and the flowers, so I’m not sure I could hold in my irritation if I had to be around him today.

When I see Alex Reynolds is here with his twins, I make my way over and chat with him. His adorable little girls are bouncing with energy like healthy, happy eight-year-olds. I can’t help but smile watching them even though that familiar longing for a family of my own tugs at me. We chat for a few minutes until the girls convince him to play outside.

I take a minute after they leave the room to send off a text to Alex’s wife, Jordan, so we can schedule a lunch date. As I finish sending the text, I look up and my hope for a peaceful afternoon shatters. The reason for the sudden increase in laughter and volume around me is because Ben has arrived. Everybody loves Ben—the life of pretty much any party.

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