Page 68 of The Bright Side of Brooding
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nick
These are just words on a page. These are nothing like the blood in my veins, which grows hot with the thought of you. These are nothing like my lungs that struggle for breath at the sight of you. These are only words, not like my wandering mind and its dreams of you. These words are nothing like this heart and what it feels for you.
Ifound the journal on the couch a few minutes after Summer had shot out the front door like she might die unless she reached home.
I skimmed the pages that lay open.Damn.She couldn’t read those and think I was anything but completely gone for her. And she wouldn’t be wrong.
Funny how she’d mentioned not wanting to scare me away, and here we were. I messaged her, asking if she was okay. I paced the living room, wiped down the table, and still didn’t hear back. I debated going over and knocking, but that was so far from my natural impulse, I trashed the idea. I didn’t want to push her. She’d panicked, clearly, and me shoving my face in her door wouldn’t take that away.
A full hour later, she responded.“Sorry about running out.”
Well, better than silence. I debated saying outright that I knew she’d seen the journal. But something told me pressing her now wouldn’t do anything for me.“We should talk. When you’re ready.”
Another few agonizing minutes passed, and then her message came.“We should. Check in tomorrow after your training sessions?”
At least it wasn’t an effort to put me off more than a few hours. I could live with tomorrow, of course. I couldn’t blame her for needing time, and I wanted her to have it if she needed it. Granted, I also wanted to go barge into her living room and demand to know why my bad poetry had thrown her so hard, because I hadn’t made a secret of my feelings. Perhaps I hadn’t shared them quite so honestly, but still. These weren’t even the worst of what she could’ve seen in that book.
I petted Butter, focusing on the purr, the feel of the wispy longer fur around his ears. I never would’ve imagined a fickle little beast like him would be able to calm and center me, but he did. Just touching his softness brought me down from the worry about Summer and how things would go tomorrow to here and now. It didn’t erase the concern, just like it hadn’t erased the grief of the last few months after Rob had dumped him on me in January. But having another living being in the house, something purely his own and willing to coddle me a bit by letting me pet him and fuss over him now and then… it eased a primal tightness death and solitude had wrought in me.
I messaged Summer back, confirming I’d check in after my last session. Nate Reynolds had upped his frequency and had the last slot of the day. It didn’t exactly surprise me, because he worked hard whenever he showed up to group trainings on weekends, and his general level of fitness was very high. He’d asked for tips here and there, and I’d helped him map out a solo-training plan he could do at home and the on-post gym. But he’d wanted more, almost like he was pouring himself into the physical to avoid something else.
Not uncommon. Happened all the time and frequently resulted in some amount of injury or over-training. So I’d need to evaluate where he was mentally and physically tomorrow.
I slumped down on my bed, the infernal journal next to me. Not shockingly, I both needed to and didn’t want to write. Pouring myself out into it, knowing the words there had thrown her so… it didn’t sound like the release I wanted. I wished I could go for a run, but it was too dark now, and it’d be a bit cold. March was spring in Germany, but that didn’t mean warm just yet.
Instead, I readied for bed and slipped under the covers, praying sleep would find me sooner than later.
* * *
“Good.”
Reynolds pushed from a decently low squat and thrust the bar above his head. Good natural form. “Two more.”
He didn’t waver, moving through the thrusters with the same determination he’d shown every time I’d seen him train. For someone seemingly so happy-go-lucky, he had genuine grit. I’d always read him as kind of a pretty rich boy who was good at Army, though he’d never treated anyone like that. My own prejudice at work. I liked seeing him in this context, though—he took direction, listened well, didn’t balk at being pushed or challenged.
He let the barbell and weights plunk down gently. He hadn’t gotten used to the fact that he could drop them altogether if needed. It was a safety precaution, and in competition, also helped with speed. I appreciated the consideration for the equipment, but he didn’t need to be gentle.
“Now give me a quarter mile, and you’re done.”
He nodded and took off out the door. He wanted bulkandspeed, so we kept some sprinting in the mix. Quarter-miles were perfect for pushing guys used to training to the Army PT test requisite two miles.
I’d only have a little over a minute, depending on how much gas Reynolds had left. But I’d been itching to message her all day, so I grabbed my phone and sent the message to Summer.
Me:“Wrapping up here. Should be free in thirty.”
That’d give me time to get Reynolds cooled down and stretched out. Rob had come for an extra-long session today, but he’d already moved to the mats to wrap up.
Summer:“The girls arrive in 45.”
Well, crap. I’d hoped they’d be showing up later, like maybe six. Five was early for a girls’ night, no? I didn’t want to rush the conversation we needed to have. Especially if for her it wasn’t simplythanks but no thanks, I wanted the time. I wasn’t about to confess my love—not there yet. But I could easily get there, and if we kept at this, I would. And I wanted to know if she thought she could too—even if it was purely hypothetical. I needed to know we could move forward, and her knowing I didn’t want to keep it atcasually datingwas part of that.
Reynolds burst back in the door and tapped his watch, then walked in a loose circle.
“Good work. Last round, best round—good.”
He’d improved. Even since earlier in the day, he’d improved, but especially since the fall when he’d really started showing up to the group workouts on weekends.Thatwas what drew me to this—seeing people improve in ways they wanted. Seeing that satisfaction that only came from knowing you’d left everything on the table.
