Page 37 of Ours to Lose
After Evan and Aubrey had left game night early, I’d hung out with my dad until well past dark and caught the last bus back to the city.
Growing up, I hadn’t had much time with him, just the two of us. Either Evan, my mom, or both were with us, or I was popping in and out to see friends while home for short visits between training. I’d never felt like our relationship had been missing anything; it was just how we were.
But being with him now felt like we’d hung out that way for years. Without trying, we’d settled into a mode where we could just be—watch a game or something on TV—no conversation necessary. It was like he was content just to have me near despite my presence driving Evan away.
No way that didn’t hurt Dad. No way it didn’t press directly on the wounds I’d poured salt into by ghosting. The same way my refusing to sleep at the house probably did.
Yet he hadn’t asked me to. Or pressured me to stay last night even though it was late. He’d just given me a hug and told me he loved me.
He should hate me. Should struggle to look at me. He should have slammed the door in my face on New Year’s and made me sleep on the steps.
I was grateful he was stronger than I was.
It probably helped he hadn’t seen the state of the gym or the size of the cot I was sleeping on.
Aubrey was the only one it felt right to give that glimpse to yet. She’d seen enough of the other broken parts of me without criticism that I knew she wouldn’t judge.
In some ways, it felt like she and I had hung out this way for years too. Like we grabbed coffee every week at our usual spot and knew each other’s orders when, in truth, this was the first time besides the other night we’d be together just the two of us. Before now, it had always been Hardt family gatherings or, at the very least, something with Evan.
It made getting coffee kind of a big step for our friendship. One I was surprisingly nervous about. The fun kind of nerves—like the ones that kept my blood pumping before a fight—but still nerves.
Boxing used to be the only thing that sparked them.
Across the street, a flash of blond hair caught the breeze from beneath the purple beanie containing it, drawing my eye to Aubrey as she made her way through the crosswalk. She was bundled in a leather jacket and gloves, all black, including her leggings and boots, like the world’s most adorable burglar.
Halfway across the intersection, she spotted me and beamed. My heart gave a kick in my chest that had nothing to do with the three miles I’d just run.
Since retiring, my routine had been two miles in the morning, four days a week. Now that I was back in training for real, the first step was to dial that distance up and add two more days. Nothing else I did would matter if my cardio couldn’t keep up.
That was why I’d suggested we meet here. It was a route I liked to run, and the museum was a closer trek for her than the gym. Not to mention, the gym was practically this cold anyway, but without the sun to warm our skin.
Plus, this had always been one of my favorite spots in the city: The view straight down the Parkway to city hall where William Penn’s statue stood tall among the skyline. The subtle peace of the Schuylkill River beside us. The way it felt like its own little bubble, both plugged in enough to still feel the charge of the city but on the outskirts enough to have space to breathe.
I needed that space more than ever with the strain of being home a constant pressure on my chest.
“Hi,” Aubrey said as she reached me at the base of the museum’s steps. She hadn’t been running, but she sounded a little out of breath. She thrust one of the two green cardboard cups she held at me like she’d rehearsed how to do it and didn’t want to forget.
My mouth ticked up, my own nerves settling at the sight of hers.
This was Aubrey. Always a little flustered around me, but still sharp and observant. I’d known since we were kids how to get her to open up, to crack a warm smile and share a genuine laugh. Just like she knew how to prod me over texts to dig a little deeper and share a little more.
This might have been a new step for our friendship, but we were still us.
I accepted the drink, the cup warm against my cold hands. “Thank you.” The first sip of green tea was scorching hot. I drank coffee sometimes, but I wasn’t a fan of too much caffeine during a training session. I nodded at her cup. “What’d you get?”
“A mocha.”
I grinned. “Should have known.” If chocolate was an option, Aubrey was all over it.
“Hey, sometimes I get a plain latte,” she said, her nose pink from the wind. “But today felt like a special occasion.”
My smile softened. It did feel special. I liked that she thought so too. I raised my cup for a toast, and she tapped hers to it.
“So is this usually when you go to work?” I asked as we headed to sit on the steps. I steered us toward a sunny spot.
“Sometimes. It depends on the day. Morning events mean getting to the kitchen at four a.m. Evening events, I can usually wait until noon.”
“Do you have a preference?”
