I read it once, twice, then a third time, letting his words sink in.
Inspiring?Me?
Part of me wants to hardcore scoff. However, there’s an undeniable warmth that spreads through my chest, too.
I grin like an insane person, and pack up my things, ready to face whatever comes next.
CHAPTER5
Adam
Itake up my usual spot at my brother’s bar, the day’s weight finally lifting as I settle onto the stool.
It’s been a hell of a day—starting with the blare of my alarm clock dragging me into the gym earlier than usual. But the real twist came with Carlie barging into my usual morning routine, bringing with her an unexpected jolt—like the first hit of caffeine that I didn’t know I needed.
As I take a sip of Brian’s newest craft beer, the sharpness of the hops doesn’t quite cut through my rumination.
I nod to the regulars who take up residence in the stools beside me as I try to shake off the ghost of the day and the crazy redhead it brought in with it.
A part of me can’t help but draw parallels between the woman from Friday night and Carlie.
The way Carlie looked at me today, there was a flicker of something—something I can’t quite put my finger on—or perhaps it was just my imagination fueled by wishful thinking.
Hell, that’s probably it.
I push the thought aside.
Carlie isCarlie—a client who’s somehow become an intriguing part of my new routine.
And the woman from Nocté ...
Well, she’s just a phantom now—a hauntingly beautiful‘what if’that slipped through my fingers like smoke.
I sigh.
Now I’m here, trying to drown out the day’s second act—Jillian flaunting her new guy like he’s the latest shiny equipment at St. Mary’s.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t the guy she cheated on me with.
How he’s still able to walk is a testament to my character—at least, I’d like to think so. Because I seriously considered breaking both kneecaps.
My brother glances over at me and I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s about to wander over and start in with some sage brother advice.
I groan inwardly.
“You look like someone stole your Peloton, man. What’s up?” Brian asks, his voice rough with concern.
Rolling my eyes, I itch at the side of my forehead.
I don’t really want to get into it, but without Dylan here as a buffer, I know I’m only delaying the inevitable.
“It’s Jillian,” I admit, hating how her name still sours my mood. “She’s all over the new guy at work, and I have to stand there, spotting him like I’m not phased by it.”
Brian’s expression hardens and he swipes my pint glass to refill it. “You know, if you left St. Mary’s—started Foxx Fitness—you wouldn’t have to deal with that shit.”
The idea of starting my own gym flickers in my mind and a burgeoning hope blooms like always. It’s a dream I’ve nursed quietly, but doubts are stubborn. They cling like the calluses on my palms.
I don’t want to fail and if I do, it would be an Instagram sensation and everyone would be watching.