Page 7

CHAPTER 6

GRADY

I tucked the newly cut key into my pocket and slipped out of Manny’s Hardware, giving the sidewalk a quick glance before heading for my car. I was still waking up in cold sweats every night and my nerves were fried. All I wanted was the peace and quiet of the gym, usually empty but for a few retired folks at this time of morning. I’d run myself into the ground and hopefully be exhausted enough to earn myself a dreamless night.

As I shut my door, I let out a relieved sigh and my head fell back as I closed my eyes. The prospect of handing this key off to Jill brought a smirk to my face, even though I knew it shouldn’t. This extra step was the right one, ensuring I wouldn’t fuck up again, but it still felt like I was treading a dangerous line. Welcoming a woman as beautiful and fiery into my space—even just to wake my ass up—had my pulse ticking. My dick, too, if I was being honest. But I didn’t have enough energy to run with that idea. Nor did I have a death wish.

My phone buzzing in my pocket jolted me from that enticing train of thought. But when I pulled it out and saw an incoming FaceTime from my trainer the spark of humor was snuffed out entirely.

“Hey, Marco,” I said, resting the phone on my steering wheel.

“Holloway, how goes it?” He was at his desk, his eyes flicking from the camera to his computer screen.

I stifled a sigh, trying hard to sound upbeat when I said, “It’s good. Things are coming along.”

His eyebrows raised like he was surprised to hear that. “That’s good. You haven’t updated your logs in a couple of days, so I was starting to think you’d decided to quit the team and become a lifeguard or something at the town beach.” He chuckled, his eyes landing back on his phone with a wide grin.

With a shake of my head, I dropped my eyes, pretending to laugh with him. “No, no. Just been busy.”

“How’s that literacy program going?”

His eyes were back on his computer and I could tell by the movement of his shoulders that he was typing. Normally his lack of attention would have pissed me off. I busted my ass at this guy’s instruction, so the least he could do was give a damn when we checked in. But today I was relieved he wasn’t looking too hard. I’d seen my face in the mirror that morning, I knew it wasn’t pretty.

“It’s fine. We had good turnout for the first one, so hopefully that’s a good sign.”

“Blaise will be happy to hear that. He’s already heard from a couple of the other teams that their outreach initiatives are being considered for a national news spot. He’ll be pissed if ours don’t get added to the coverage.”

A national news spot would be great for the Brawlers. But my first thought was of Jill; she’d be absolutely petrified of that. More cameras than she’d ever seen, a mic shoved in her face, and questions she’d never have the chance to prepare for. She’d crawl out of her skin. But she’d have to do it, it would also be too killer for her library not to.

“I’ll text him. If he needs me to do anything to make that happen, I’m here. I’ve got another shipment of Brawlers gear coming, so I’m ready.”

When he stopped typing and looked directly at me a chill swept my skin.

“And you’ll be ready to hit the ice, too, right? ‘Cause by not sending me your workout logs, I’m starting to wonder how well you’re doing up there on your own. Do you need to come back to the city for some in person sessions?”

“No, no. I’m doing great. I just needed to get settled in up here. I’ll get you the logs.”

“Okay. Do it. ‘Cause Blaise asks about you every time he sees me, and I’d like to give him a progress report based on actual numbers. If you’re still having strength issues, we need to know so we can address them.”

“Really, it’s coming along.” The back of my neck went damp as this conversation pushed my anxiety to the limit.

“Fantastic.” He knocked his knuckles on his desk, like we’d just settled some sort of agreement. “I’ll keep an eye out for those logs. And the PT team sent you some new protocols. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Will do,” I said, keeping it short in the hopes he’d let me get off the phone.

Marco’s eyes went back to his computer. “Talk in a couple of days.”

“Sounds good.”

We hung up and I dropped my phone in the cup holder. I’d expected Marco to ask for the logs, I’d just hoped by the time he did I’d have some improvement. As it was, my shoulder was still at half strength with a limited range of motion. But the last thing I needed was for Marco to tell Coach I wasn’t getting better. I would. I just needed more time.

After I’d dropped my things in the locker room, I pulled up the notes my PT had sent, scrolling down to the list of exercises. I stopped short and an old guy nearly plowed into me as I froze in the doorway.

“Sorry,” I muttered, my eyes locked on my phone. I heard him respond, but whatever he said, the words didn’t register. Sweat started to collect on my shirt collar as I read and reread the words my PT had written.

Since you’re healed up now, let’s work on getting your flexibility back. I want you to try some exercises in the water to support the joint while offering resistance in motion. I’m attaching a list I want you to go through, tracking pain and mobility on a scale of one to ten. Let me know how it goes and if you don’t have any issues, we can start doing these with weights instead.

My vision went black. My mind scrambling into memories of splashing, bubbles, and screaming for air. Pain shot through me and I sagged against the wall as I fought to breathe. He had no idea that going into the water was the last thing I wanted to do, because I hadn’t told anyone about the nightmares. I’d barely mentioned them to the therapist the team had forced me to see after the accident. Two sessions and I was out of there. I didn’t need a shrink. I just needed to move past all of this. A little time and a lot more focus on what really mattered.

But the idea of going into the pool made me sick. I spun and bolted back into the locker room, throwing open the door to a bathroom stall and heaving my breakfast into the bowl. I knew that old guy was probably still in there with me, hearing me wretch, but I couldn’t stop it. I puked until I had nothing left and I sat on the floor with my back against the cold metal.

Sweat dripped down my temples, the slick, clammy feel of my skin making my stomach roll again when I swiped it away with shaking fingers. This was fucking embarrassing. I’d been a swimmer my whole life. And the town pool was a far cry from a rip tide in the ocean. What the hell was wrong with me?