Page 60 of Work It Out
“Jake,” Rayah began, but it was no use. Vicky was on a mission, and she’d lost Jake to daydreams of greasy beef smothered in cheese and wrapped in simple carbs.
“This is going to be so much fun!” Vicky all but skipped to the door, towing Rayah behind her. She probably looked like she was heading to her own execution. Certainly felt that way. In a last-ditch effort, she glanced over her shoulder at the guys. Samuel still appeared to be as confused as she felt. Blaine smiled, knowing how much she hated getting dolled up. It was the first time he’d grinned at her like that in ages, and it healed a little piece of what they’d broken. Then there was Jake. She’d expected one of his saucy winks or a flirty remark.
Thank you, he mouthed, placing one hand over his heart.
Damn it. Now, she had to let Vicky dress her up like a life-size American Girl doll.
Accepting her fate, she mouthed back,You owe me, Newman.
That did earn her a wink.
Chapter Twenty
November 7
Bigbone Community Facebook Group
As always, tonight’s lottery is a potluck. I’ll provide the hamburgers. Feel free to bring whatever side dishes you like, but I’d better not see tofu on my grill again this year. I’m talking to you, Woody. Don’t make me call your mother.
-Fran
“Don’t stop now,” Blaine taunted. “You’re almost there.”
Bullshit. Jake had at least a quarter mile to go. Blaine had kept him longer than usual and, as he was wont to do, he’d made the last piece of his workout a run from the fitness center to the cabin. Fine, “run” was overstating things, but it was freezing cold. He was also covered in sweat and Blaine had him alternating ten-second sprints and one-minute walks. That he was able to do it at all was a miracle he didn’t feel that grateful for at the moment.
Accepting this challenge had consequences he hadn’t expected. He used to think of his POTS as almost funny. (It’d been laugh or cry, and he loved laughter.) But there was no laughing it off when he watched other clients—clients twice his age, twice his weight, sometimes both—breeze through exercises Jake had to have modified until they might as well have been for the nursing home set. None of his trainers blinked at making those modifications, but Jake was only now getting to the place where they didn’t chap his ass, most of the time. Only now was he beginning to accept that there were things no amount of willpower and determination would put within his reach. But then, he supposed that was the definition of having a disability, invisible or otherwise. It sucked, but there was no changing it, and pretending there was would only take focus from those goals he could grab with both hands.
Shawn on the other hand… Well, Shawn had never taken Jake’s condition seriously, even after the WWE smackdown incident. He wasn’t at all impressed with Jake’s progress and had gone back to dropping hints every day that he needed a new team, hints that grew progressively less subtle. This morning’s voicemail (because Jake wasn’t wasting his emotional bandwidth talking to naysayers) had been the most unprofessional yet. He’d have to deal with it soon, but it could wait until after the Hunt.
By the time Jake reached the cabin, he’d forgotten how proud he was of his emotional growth and whatnot, because every muscle had turned to hot lead. The burn he could handle. The real killer was the way each step felt like walking through half-dried concrete. He’d hit a wall of fatigue most people went their whole lives without encountering.
Blaine stuck with him until he’d reached the front porch. Then, without so much as afuck you, buddy, he turned and ran back up the road. Uphill. Couldn’t even do Jake the courtesy of sounding winded.
Asshole.
He stood outside, doubled over and panting, waiting until he was sure he wouldn’t throw up or fall down and the spots cleared from his vision. None of his multitude trainers were a barrel of laughs, but Chewbacca made a science of working Jake one step shy of his breaking point and no further. God forbid the big prick let him pass out now and then, if for no other reason than he could use the nap. His vacation had been Jake’s vacation, and he hadn’t even been able to enjoy it because it had hurt Rayah so much.
When he was sure his legs wouldn’t give out, Jake shoved the front door of the cabin open and stumbled into the kitchen. Another protein shake and an apple awaited him in the fridge. That such a puny snack excited him was proof of how far down the bunny food rabbit hole he’d fallen.
He’d expected to find Vicky cajoling Rayah into wearing makeup or letting her do her hair, but the cabin was quiet. He lumbered to the refrigerator. His shake sat on the shelf, a sticky note filled with bubbly, feminine writing affixed to the front.
Went to the lottery early to help set up and get good seats. Pierce will pick you up at six. Don’t be late!
XOXO,
Vicky
Below that, in a more spartan hand:
Drink this and eat your apple. No cheeseburgers for you.
Cruel, cruel sexy woman. She knew him far too well. He’d been plotting how to sneak one past her for hours.
He glanced at his watch. Five fifty. Shit. He barely had time to shower.Blaine did that on purpose.The thought sounded petty, but he wouldn’t put it past the guy. The shake went down quickly, but he’d come back for the apple.
The bathroom looked like a war zone, the counter riddled with cosmetic shrapnel and fallen hair products. He laughed, picturing the appalled look on Rayah’s face when she’d walked away from this mess. It had to be killing her.
He busted out his phone, snapped a pic, and sent it to her with the caption,The horror!!!
