Page 6 of Unraveling with You

“I hear you on that. But crying isn’t weakness. It’s information. Your body is informing us that you’re feeling a lot right now and that what you’re feeling a lot about is something important to you. That's not good or bad. It’s just okay. You're okay.”

His words swirl to the scarred depths of my soul. Dropping my head, I let myself cry, sitting on the floor beside Remington.

Digging back into his gym bag, Remington hands me a tissue packet. “Don’t hold it in for me. Even if it takes an hour to let it out, keep crying.”

I want to laugh, but he’s dead-serious. As my smile fades, my tears burn hotter. I’ve never been told to keep crying in a non-threatening way. It feels like he’s holding space for me. It’s so kind. So gentle.

When my floodgates open, he hums. “Good. Keep taking deep breaths.”

He’s right: I’m holding my breath to stifle myself. But when I exhale, a whimper escapes with my air. I duck my head, wishing I could just stop.

But he continues to sit with me, and within minutes, my heart softens enough to erase nearly all the panic Josh created. I suddenly feel so light that I laugh.

Remington perks up. “What’s up?”

Digging through my jacket pocket, I fetch my gym membership gift card. Remington takes it from me with furrowed brows, and I groan. “I still have 9 slots left for this gym.”

I have to softly chuckle at the irony, but Remington scowls. “For how expensive it is, this place sucks ass anyway. There’s a cheaper place five blocks down called Dynamo Fitness Center - which kind of makes me laugh. But people are nicer there. They don’t act like God’s favorite gym bros.”

His sense of humor hits me by surprise, spurring a rambunctious giggle from my lips. But I sigh. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I can’t afford to use extra money on myself, so I’ll just go back to exercising in my room.”

Remington straightens. “No, I think you deserve a refund. You got straight-up harassed.”

Biting my lip, I peek at him. “I-I don’t think they’d give it to me.”

“Probably not, if this is how they treat women here.” Remington stands, holding out his hand. “But you’ve got a gym buddy now who looks like a scary meathead.”

Taking Remington’s hand, I laugh as he pulls me to my feet. “Oh. My legs feel way better.”

“Good.” He gives me another half-up grin before whipping around to shoulder his gym bag. Then he hands me mine, looking into my eyes with a bright stare. “Ready to get that refund?”

I smile. “Yes.”

We speed to the front desk, and I let out another giggle at his determined back.

“But you’re not a meathead,” I mutter.

“Am too,” he says, keeping his back to me.

I didn’t expect him to hear me, but my smile only widens. As we meet Liam’s perplexed stare at the front desk, I remember where I am; thanks to Remington, I forgot how unsafe I felt in this gym only thirty minutes ago.

Remington hands my card over the counter before I can fully catch up to him. He lowers his voice. “I need a refund.”

As I come to a stop beside Remington, he loosens his fingers to let go of my hand, but I give him a quick squeeze. He releases me, but shoots me a glance.

“You okay?” He whispers.

I bite my lip, then nod. I hadn’t seen how furious Remington suddenly looked, but his scowl is framed by smoky, graphic tattoos up his neck, intensifying his jet-black irises. Maybe he’s acting, but the seriousness behind his eyes has an edge I couldn’t personally fake. Does he care about everyone like this? With how genuinely kind his heart seems, I wouldn’t be surprised.

When Remington turns back to Liam, he gives Liam the dark staredown he gave Josh.

Liam takes my membership card, but it’s clear he has the answer before he touches the plastic; after looking between us, the card, and his monitor, Liam swallows hard. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. It's company policy. All I could give is store credit - which is basically just another gift card.”

Remington gives a sharptsk. “What about if your staff member harassed the gym member with the gift card in front of everyone at the gym?”

As Liam glances at me, my cheeks flame hot.

But Remington stiffens. “No, don’t look at her. It’s not her fault. You’re lucky I’m not plastering this shit all over the internet to shut this place down. Who’s your manager?”

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