Page 84 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

If only all of them would get their heads out of their asses and see it, too.

23

GIGI

Another text from Ronald.‘You sure you wouldn’t prefer a romantic dinner?’

I sigh.‘No.’

‘Right. Alpha Bet bar it is.’He sends a smiley.

I put my phone down on the kitchen table. I’m supposed to meet him tonight for drinks.A rendezvous, he said. He seemed happy with the idea.

Won’t be the first time I disappointed someone.

I have no desire whatsoever to step out of the apartment. There’s a weight on my chest. On my soul. Everything seems… pointless. My path. My masterplan.

I can’t get my thoughts in order.

Mom texted me half an hour ago. No news from Travis. It’s as if he vanished from the face of the world.

Dad died. Travis disappeared. Is my family cursed?

I stare at Ronald’s last message and my finger hovers over the reply button. I could just say I can’t make it. Not feeling up to it. I don’t want to move.

But I might as well go.

Staying here might finish the job of driving me crazy with worry over Travis and the feeling I’ve made a very bad choice. A bad plan. That I followed the wrong path.

That I should have listened to my feelings. Even my body feels smug, as if to say,told you so.There is an ache in me where my non-boyfriends have taken up residence, in my mind, in my thoughts. A hole.

Speaking of the non-boyfriends…

“Gige.” Ronin stalks into the kitchen in running shorts and a loose tank top, ink, and muscles, and sweat shining on his skin, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”

It’s obvious he just came back from running. He doesn’t normally run in the evenings, and I should be asking him what’s going on, but I can’t find the mental energy.

He grabs a glass and fills it from the tap, then drinks the water in three long swallows, and I can’t stop staring at his throat. He puts the glass into the sink and turns toward me.

“Has Grey talked to you?” he asks.

I blink. “To me? No. I mean, not for days. Why?”

“It’s probably nothing. He didn’t turn up for work today. It’s unlike him and I know he needs the money.”

My mind tries to wrap around this new complication, this new worry, but my phone pings with another text from my mom. It’s a panicky text, suggesting I call Travis.

Thing is, I gave in and tried a couple of days ago, and she knows it. Travis won’t pick up.

Ronin says, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Family stuff.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

I’m tempted. Somewhere deep in my twisting thoughts, it feels like it could help. Ronin is my friend, after all. But the rest of my brain is a swamp where thoughts go to die.

I put my phone face-down on the table and shake my head.

---