Page 31 of In Her Wake
Beth Williams’ feet pounded the pavement in steady rhythm, her breath forming small clouds in the early morning air.The route from her apartment to Torres Fitness Studio had become as familiar to her as the lines of code she manipulated for a living, each turn and crossing point calculated for maximum efficiency.Her workout bag bounced against her hip with each stride, the weight of it a comforting anchor.
Three blocks down, two left turns, past the sleepy storefronts still dark in the pre-business hours—all part of the morning ritual that brought her closer to Kevin Torres and the hour she looked forward to more than any other in her day.
The morning was still caught in that liminal space between night and true dawn, streetlights fighting a losing battle against the approaching sun.Beth checked her watch—7:32.Perfect timing.Kevin would already be there, setting up for their session, probably brewing that awful protein-packed coffee he swore by.The thought made her smile despite the burn in her lungs.
A delivery truck rumbled past, its driver raising a hand in greeting.Beth returned the wave, recognizing him from her many morning runs.Trentville was like that—small enough that faces became familiar, large enough that you could still keep secrets if you wanted to.And Beth had been keeping one secret for nearly six months now.
Her mind drifted to the project waiting for her after her workout—a security system upgrade for a financial services company in Chicago.The code was complex, challenging in a way that satisfied her analytical mind, but also straightforward enough that she could work on it between bursts of focus throughout the day.Remote work suited her, allowing her to structure her life around things that mattered—like these morning sessions with Kevin.
Beth slowed as she approached the final corner, using the moment to catch her breath and smooth her ponytail.She always wanted to look her best for Kevin, even when she knew she would soon be red-faced and sweating.Vanity, perhaps, but there it was.
Torres Fitness Studio came into view—a converted storefront with large windows now covered by blinds, the bold logo stenciled across the glass.It was modest as gyms went, but Kevin had built something special here.Personal, authentic—like the man himself.
Kevin’s silver Jeep sat alone in the small lot behind the building, exactly where it always was at this hour.The sight of it quickened Beth’s steps.Just a few days ago, that Jeep had been featured in one of the photographs accompanying thePowerCore Magazinearticle about Kevin—”Torres Technique: Transforming Bodies and Lives in Small-Town America.”He’d been so proud, showing her the magazine during their session, his smile wider than she’d ever seen it.
“Can you believe it, Beth?”he’d asked, eyes bright with accomplishment.“They actually called me a ‘fitness visionary.’“
She’d been proud of him too—fiercely, deeply proud.The article had cataloged his impressive athletic achievements: the marathons (including that sub-three-hour finish he never stopped mentioning), the Ironman Triathlon, his state powerlifting record, the regional CrossFit competitions.A lifetime of physical excellence condensed into glossy pages and professional photographs.
“I honestly can’t imagine life getting any better than this,” he’d told her that day, tapping the magazine.“This is it—peak Kevin Torres right here.”
The words had stung in a way Beth hadn’t expected.Couldn’t imagine life getting better?What about her?What about them?Was there even a “them” to consider, or was that just her own wishful thinking projected onto their trainer-client relationship?
Beth reached the front door, pulling up short when she tried the handle and found it locked.Strange.Kevin always unlocked the door before she arrived, even though the studio didn’t officially open until nine.She peered through the glass, seeing lights on inside but no movement.
She fished her key from the side pocket of her workout bag—the special client key Kevin had given her three months ago when they’d started these early sessions.“For my favorite client,” he’d said with a wink that had sent her pulse racing.Was that flirtation or just Kevin being Kevin?She’d never been sure.
The key turned smoothly in the lock.Beth pushed the door open, immediately noticing the silence.Usually, Kevin had music playing—upbeat tracks with strong bass lines that he claimed "activated the right energy for gains."
“Kevin?”she called, letting the door swing shut behind her.“It’s Beth.Sorry if I’m a minute late.”
No response.Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the subtle buzz of fluorescent lights.
Beth moved deeper into the gym, past the front desk where a stack of newPowerCore Magazinessat on display.Kevin had ordered fifty copies—excessive for a small studio, but so typically him.Everything he did contained that same unbridled enthusiasm, the same wholehearted commitment that had drawn her to him from their first session.
Six months of watching him demonstrate exercises, his movements precise and controlled.Six months of his hands making careful adjustments to her form, the brief contact sending electricity through her skin.Six months of building a friendship that teetered on the edge of something more, at least from her perspective.And every morning this week, she’d promised herself today would be the day she told him how she felt.Today would be the day she asked if there could be more between them than sets and reps and protein shake recipes.
The main workout area spread before her, equipment arranged in neat rows, mirrors covering the far wall.Everything looked normal, except—wait.The free weights had been rearranged, the bench pulled into the center of the floor rather than against the wall where Kevin usually positioned it.
And there he was, sitting on the weight bench with his back to her.He wore a full tracksuit—unusual for him in the always-warm gym where he usually worked out in shorts and a fitted tank top to better demonstrate muscle engagement.
“There you are,” Beth said, relief washing through her.“Didn’t you hear me calling?What’s with the tracksuit?Are we doing outdoor training today?”
Kevin remained motionless, his attention seemingly fixed on the mirrored wall before him.The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable.
“Kevin?”Beth took a step closer.As she moved around him to see his face directly, the words died in her throat.This wasn’t Kevin.It wasn’t even a person.
Then Beth laughed out loud.“It’s a life-sized Kevin-doll,” she cried out, thinking that it must be just one more perk from his recent acclaim inPowerCore Magazine,something someone had created especially for him.The craftsmanship was extraordinary.The face wasn’t just similar to Kevin’s, itwashis face, rendered with wonderful accuracy—his strong jaw, his close-cropped dark hair, even the small scar above his left eyebrow from a childhood bicycle accident he’d told her about.The posture mimicked Kevin’s perfectly—weight distributed evenly, shoulders back, chin slightly tucked, ready to demonstrate proper form.
"Okay, Kevin," she called, "They did a great job.I'm impressed."But her voice sounded small in the empty gym."Kevin?"she called again, louder this time."Where are you hiding?"
He must be in the office, she thought.
She hurried to the small office tucked into the corner of the gym.The space was spare but distinctly Kevin’s—a metal desk cluttered with protein bar wrappers and client folders, a corkboard covered with fitness certification diplomas and motivational quotes torn from magazines, and that ridiculous ergonomic chair he’d spent half a month’s rent on because “spinal alignment is non-negotiable.”
A framed certificate from his personal training certification hung slightly crooked beside a corkboard pinned with before-and-after photos of smiling clients.Beth had long ago observed a lack of family pictures, not a wife or girlfriend or any kind of significant other.A wall calendar was marked with client appointments.She saw nothing unusual in the space for this morning, just her own name in Kevin’s bold handwriting.
But Kevin wasn’t here.His car was outside.It didn’t make sense.Surely he hadn’t gone out running, not when he knew she’d be here for her workout.
