Page 48 of The Weight Of Falling
I remember that moment clearly. How Sofia had quietly pointed out that there was something going on with Aaron. She hadn’t been wrong. Back then, none of us understood how deepAaron’s pain went. It took time, love, and therapy to help him face what he’d buried. And Tess had been beside him for all of it.
“I agree Joel has been through something that’s left a mark,” Kate acknowledges, pushing her hair out of her face. “I don’t know what it is, but I know I trust him. In all the time we’ve worked together, I’ve never once felt unsafe around him.”
“It’s not Kenzie’s physical safety I’m worried about,” Tess says. “It’s her heart.”
I pull at the neckline of my shirt, which abruptly feels too tight. Honestly, everything feels too tight—my throat, my skin, even the space around me. I sense the love behind their concern, but I also can’t help feeling a little smothered. I know my friends mean well, but sometimes it feels like they’re trying to bubble-wrap me before I can take a single step toward the life I want. And even if that step turns out to be a mistake, I might need to take it anyway, because who knows? It might just lead me to the right place.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I reassure them, forcing a small smile. “This whole fake engagement just sort of happened. We’re rolling with it. It’s harmless and fun. Nothing serious.”
Sofia gives a light hand clap to grab our attention. “Okay, everyone, time for your latest romantic forecast for Joel and Kenzie.” Her voice drops into mock-serious commentator mode. “We’re looking at a high-pressure system of longing gazes, with an eighty percent chance of unresolved sexual tension. A slow front of emotional repression is moving in from the north, where it will likely collide with a warm front of deep denial.”
Tess snorts. Kate lifts her glass to hide a grin. And I can’t help chuckling, grateful for the levity.
“If conditions are right,” Sofia continues, “there’s a strong chance of a category five kiss.”
I school my expression into neutrality. If only they knew the storm’s already hit, and I’m still reeling from its aftermath.
Sofia winks at me, trouble written all over her face. “In the interest of public safety, I’m officially dragging you to the gym. We need you to burn off some of that excess...tension.”
“No,” I say firmly. Well, as firmly as I can be in the face of Sofia’s scary resolve.
“Oh, yes,” Tess jumps in, already on board.
“Not me,” Kate says with a sly smile. “I get enough of a workout in the evenings with Gideon.”
“Dead pets, dead pets,” Tess chants, clapping her hands over her ears.
Sofia leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’ll see you at the gym, Kenz. Whether you walk in or we drag you.”
I laugh along with them, but deep down I know this isn’t about the gym. Not really. It’s about staying grounded when part of me wants to fall. About not letting a fake story start to feel like the truth. And asking myself how long I can pretend I’m not already in deeper than I meant to go.
19
I really don’t belong here.
Not in this gleaming torture chamber disguised as a gym. The air smells like metal and misery, and the machines make all kinds of noises, like they’re quietly judging me. I’m surrounded by sculpted strangers who move like they were born doing this, while I’m standing here in ten-year-old sneakers and a T-shirt that’s seen better days.
It’s not as dramatic as it feels. I know that. But nerves have a way of distorting things, and right now, everything feels too loud, too polished, toonot me.
After shoving a protein bar into my hand and telling me to “pick a machine that doesn’t look like it wants to kill you,” Tess and Sofia disappeared into some kind of dance-based exercise class. They urged me to join them, but my coordination is seriously lacking, so I opted for cardio instead. Maybe a bit of gentle walking on the treadmill. But no one here looks like they’re doing anything gentle. It’s all determination and intimidating energy, and I feel completely out of place. Honestly, I’d rather be curled up on my couch with a romance novel and a mug of hot chocolate.
I linger at the water fountain, once again wondering how my friends convinced me this was a good idea. Sayingnois clearly a skill I haven’t mastered.
It’s been three days since the announcement of our fake engagement. True to our word, Joel and I have kept a lowprofile. No calls, no texts, no accidental run-ins. He’s stayed away, and I’ve done the same.
And yet, stupidly, hopefully, I keep checking my phone. Every time it stays quiet, I remind myself this is exactly what we agreed to. So why does the silence feel like rejection, even when it isn’t?
When people ask about him, I smile and say we’re both busy. When I run into someone at the store or on Main, I hear how “Joel’s such a nice young man” and how “we’re all so glad you two worked things out.”
A throat clears behind me. I turn to see a line of people waiting to use the water fountain I’ve been unintentionally hogging. I mumble an apology and step aside. No more stalling. I retie my ponytail, square my shoulders, and take the long way around to the treadmills.
That’s when I see Joel.
He’s across the room, seated on a weight bench, head down, one arm curling a dumbbell like it’s an extension of himself. His white T-shirt stretches across his back and shoulders. His dark hair is damp and curling slightly on his neck.
There are people everywhere, but he’s the only one my eyes fix on.
He hasn’t seen me yet. His jaw is set, his brow furrowed, and the veins in his forearm stand out with each repetition. There’s something almost primal about the way he’s training. I remember what Aaron said at Gideon and Kate’s wedding:He trains like he’s waging war against someone or trying to exorcise something.
