Page 22 of The Game Plan
“Whoa, this is a lot to process,” Bret says as she resumes her bicep curls.
“Tell me about it,” I grumble, gritting through my rep as my biceps tighten.
We fall silent for a few moments, both of us focusing on the weights in our hands and watching our form in the mirror.
I set the fifty-pound weights back on the rack and reach for the twenty-pounders. Listen, I’m a strong man, but lateral raises are hell, and I’ll always choose the lighter option.
“Sounds like you’re setting up your own little sitcom. What’s next, marriage?” Bret swaps to lighter weights for laterals. Glad I’m not the only one.
“It’s not like that. She’s pregnant. I couldn’t let her live there alone. It’s not safe. I have an extra room. It makes sense.”
Both of us focus on the burn lateral raises bring for a few more reps.
Bret chuckles. “And you’re in love with her.”
I glare at her reflection in the mirror, muscles flexing, ignoring her comment. She’s always been able to read me like a book.
“She must mean something.” Bret watches herself in the mirror as she speaks. “You’re awake at 5 a.m., bags under your eyes, putting in a workout to quiet the noise.”
“I didn’t sleep much last night.”
Dropping her weights, the metal clinking against the floor, Bret turns to look at me. She adjusts her high ponytail, eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. You know that, right?”
I nod with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m keeping this from Mom and Dad for now.”
Bret leans her hip against the metal weight rack. “Your secret’s safe with me, big brother.”
“Thanks,” I say, dropping to the floor for core work and sliding the weights out of the way. She joins me, the gym floor cold beneath my back as we start our sit-ups. Everything about this workout has been chaotic. There isn’t a rhyme or reason for what I’m doing. Honestly, I’m going through the motions to distract myself.
“You always try to fix everything,” she gasps between reps. “Be the protector. But sometimes protecting someone means letting them in—even if it wrecks you."
I stop mid-rep and stare at the ceiling, noticing that two bulbs need to be replaced. Her comment hits harder than getting a weight to the gut.
“I’m just saying,” she adds, rolling over into a cobra pose to stretch out her core. “Don’t shut her out before you even open the door.”
Jaw clenching, I nod once as I push off the ground. I needed this conversation to happen, but it’s left me with even more things to sort out. Bret and I rack the weights, glancing around to make sure we put everything away. She grabs the cleaning solution and a roll of paper towels. Tossing me the roll, she sprays down what we touched as I wipe everything down.
Satisfied that the gym is cleaned after our workout, we move to the exit. Pushing open the door, I hold it open for her to pass. She pauses outside, waiting for me to fall in step beside her as we move down the sidewalk.
“Don’t forget, because you’re the strong one doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to need something too. Take the risk. Fall in love, big brother.”
With a quick hug, she’s gone.
Leaving me standing there, speechless.
A low rumble and the sound of squeaking brakes draw my attention to the parking lot. I walk over to the window and try to see, but my angle is weird.
I hastily stride back into the kitchen, glancing around to make sure everything’s in its place. Reaching for a kitchen rag, I wipe the loose crumbs that had fallen. Spotting the candle I purchased from Target this morning, I rummage through a drawer until I find a lighter. As I finish lighting the wick, a soft knock sounds on the door.
My palms sweat as my heart rate speeds up.
This is it.
With a deep breath, I open the door, and I’m met withher. Even with stress written all over her face, even in a baggy t-shirt covering her round stomach and tight workout shorts, and with a box in her arms, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hey,” she says, the weight of everything unsaid packed into that one word.
“Hi,” I say, shaking off nerves and giving her a genuine smile. She’s one of the few to ever get one.
