Page 20 of Marrying Emma

It looked like soda, which was frustrating because they only allowed water and Gatorade in the gym, mostly because it was light colored and easy to clean up.

Emma went to the back to retrieve a mop and rolling bucket. She added warm water to the bucket, a squirt of soap, and rolled it to the front to take care of the mess.

As she crossed into the observation area, she nearly ran into Marty’s shins. “Oh!” She stopped fast enough to avoid the collision, but some water sloshed over the side onto the floor.

“It’s okay, Emma. I wasn’t paying attention.” He pointed to the chairs. “I take it you already saw the mess.”

She nodded. “Yep. I wish I’d seen it when it happened. Too bad people can’t simply read and follow directions.” Because apparently the rocket red sign on the front door saying, “No outside food or drinks” wasn’t obvious enough.

“I can take care of it for you,” Marty offered.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. Thank you, though.”

If people showed up for open gym, that meant Marty had maybe twenty minutes to take a break and get something to eat or drink.

Emma carefully pushed the bucket and mop past him. Since she’d spilled water already, she decided the whole area might as well receive a thorough cleaning. She retrieved the “Wet Floor” signs from the back, placed them around the room, and got to work. It didn’t take all that long, and by the time she was done, the floor shined.

When she finished putting everything away, Marty was back out on the floor. So far, only two other people had arrived for open gym. They were regulars, though, and other than chatting with Marty, they rarely needed assistance.

The instinct to sit behind the desk was strong, but if Emma was going to start classes, she had to work on stretching and everything when she could. Who knew, maybe she’d transform into one of those fitness fanatics who exercised every chance they got. She nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of it.

Swallowing her pride, she stored her things and strode across the mats to the warm-up area. She’d just sat down and started stretching her legs when Marty approached.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “Would you like some company? If not, say the word.”

Emma leaned back to look at him. “Company would be good, thanks.”

He sat across from her and stretched his legs out. Emma again marveled at the fact that, if he hadn’t told her he had a prosthetic, she never would’ve known. Even now she couldn’t tell by looking at his leg.

“Were you scared when you first started exercising after losing your leg?” She voiced the question before allowing herself to overthink it.

He seemed surprised by it but answered immediately. “You have no idea.” With an exhale he reached for his foot and held it for several moments before sitting upright again. “It took months of therapy to walk again.” He stretched with the other leg. “The first time I went to a gym that wasn’t associated with physical therapy, I was scared I’d trip or lose my balance and fall in front of everyone else.”

Emma followed along with his stretches as she listened. She had a hard time imagining him being insecure about himself in any way.

There must have been something in her expression to betray her thoughts because he looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “Believe it or not, even a guy as well adjusted as I am doesn’t want to look like a fool. I had to prove—mostly to myself—that I was still as strong. I think that’s why I got into America Ninja Warrior stuff. I needed a goal. Something to work toward, not simply building up my strength.” He shrugged as red crept up his neck and tinged his ears.

Emma had a feeling it wasn’t something he admitted to many people. “What you’re saying is, you’re stubborn.” She tried to keep a serious face, but when he gave her a mock look of exasperation, she chuckled.

Marty stretched his leg and lightly kicked the bottom of her shoe. “Something like that.”

They had stubborn streaks in common. He’d used his to push himself out of his comfort zone and get stronger. Emma admired that. In contrast, she’d used hers to keep herself in a prison of her own making, refusing to let herself out. He’d been brave. She’d been a coward.

The weighty realization pressed down on her chest. Her breath caught as the pain of many wasted months and years made it hard to breathe. Why couldn’t she have been stronger?

Aware of nothing for several moments, it seemed as though Marty suddenly materialized beside her. “Emma?” His large hand cupped her chin and lifted it so he could see her face. “Are you okay?” Concern etched lines into the corners of his eyes.

Emma nodded before she could speak. She took in several deep breaths. One of the guys using the gym had stopped to watch and looked like he was ready to help, too, if she needed it. She forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

Marty waited another moment before dropping his hand and moving away again. He didn’t take his eyes off her, though. “What happened? Were you in pain?”

“No. I just…” How did she explain this to someone else? Did she even want to? But he’d told her about his fears when he first began to walk with a prosthetic. If anyone might understand, it’d be Marty. “I wish I could have approached my own challenges the same way you did. You climbed out of your pit and made your life better.”

He looked confused.

“Your pit of despair after losing your leg.” Tears stung her eyes as she tried to blink them away. “I pulled branches over the entrance to hide mine and then kicked the ladder down so I couldn’t get out, and no one could reach me.”

A rebel tear escaped followed by another, and they raced each other to her chin. Emma jumped to her feet and started to walk toward the front of the building. Marty jogged after her and caught up before she’d left the floor. “Emma, wait. Here, sit down for a minute.” He led her to the padded edge of an obstacle that wasn’t in use.

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