“Stop standing there looking like you’re going to puke.”
Knowing I’m not going to win this, I follow him to the pull up bars.
“Go to the lower one and do thirty.”
Reed has been my best friend for years, and right now, I can’t figure out if I hate him or love him. But I do as I’m told. The bar is low enough that I don’t need to jump, to reach it, and since I can’t stand without support, I feel as if I’ve already won this round.
Releasing my hands from the crutches, I grab onto the cool metal bar. I smell the familiar tinge of rust, feel the rough grip of the metal as my hands grasp it tightly. Taking a deep breath, I use muscles that I forgot I had and barely make my chin touch the hard steel bar.
My heart ticks a little faster. I try another one.
Sweat begins to form on my brow.
Then another. The blood in my veins begins to pulse in my ears.
I don’t finish all thirty, but I get pretty damn close and Reed stands back and watches, his hands on his hips, his face a stone cold mask I can’t read.
“Every day we’re coming here. Every day until you thank God that he didn’t take your life too. Do you hear me?”
I look at Addison’s curious face and finally answer her. “Who hasn’t needed to restart their life at one point? Sometimes that’s the only way you can move forward.”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. “I stayed in Santa Barbara after school because my dad came down with lung cancer. This life wasn’t my plan, but somehow—I feel stuck with it.”
“Addison, we’re only given one life, you were chosen for yours, because you’re tough enough to love every second of it. No one’s ever stuck.” I pull her to a seated position so she’s now facing me, her legs captured between my own. Her skin is flushed from the run, her lips slightly parted as she continues to breathe heavily. Those heart stopping eyes travel over my face, lingering on my lips, and finally land on my eyes. She gives me a small smile.
“Six years ago, a drunk driver took away any hope I had of playing professional soccer. In the span of a minute, all my dreams were crushed. I had to re-think all my priorities and make new dreams.” Clasping her hands between my own, I make sure I have her full attention. “This is your life Addison, you choose how you want to live it. That’s all that matters.”
Releasing her hands from my grasp, she places her fingers on my stomach, right against my scar and I have to will myself to continue.
“There are a million ways to restart your life.”
She turns her head, staring off into the distance, her mind clearly spinning with plans on how to move forward with her life. Facing me again, her eyes lock onto mine. Those brilliant eyes gut me. They’re filled with a newfound hope and determination and I want to be a part of that restart button. I want to be the reason for her restart.
“Come to the track with me tomorrow.”
Her body slightly stiffens. “I could barely get through this run, there’s no way I can keep up with your level of training.”
“You won’t have to, I’ll design something just for you, but I think it will help. Sometimes making the smallest change ends up causing the greatest difference and meeting me and Reed at the track tomorrow morning can be your first step.”
Her face brightens.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I’m hopeful. Maybe I’m making a little progress.
“How early are we talking here?” her voice slightly more tentative than before.
“Early enough that I’ll grab the coffee.”
Sitting straighter she looks me in the eye. “Okay, Damian, it’s a yes. I’ll be your morning girl.” She winks and stands up.
And I’m hard.
“You’re falling behind! Speed it up Addison!”
I’m going to punch him in the face or kick him in the nuts, whichever movement my body will allow, he’s getting. The red hair suits him, reminds me of the devil and he has evil brewing behind those blue eyes. He’s blaring Flo Rida’s “GDFR” and I want to throw his damn Bluetooth speaker from here to kingdom come.
And Damian, he’s laughing at me like this is some sort of comedy show.
“Come on Green Eyes, pretend you’re competing to win American Ninja Warrior.”
I flip him off and run one more sprint around the track. My lungs hurt, my legs are shaking, and I’m sure this is what death feels like. We’ve been here an hour; it has to be over soon. The only redeeming quality of this god-forsaken workout is watching Damian do his thing. It’s no wonder he looks the way he does, I’ve never seen a human body perform like that. I want to watch him build his very own Salmon Ladder because I’m convinced he’d be able to do it no problem.
“Stop and give me thirty sit ups!” Reed is my new enemy. I may even hate him more than Matt in this moment.
Blocking the pain in my side and shaking legs out of my mind, I focus on happier thoughts. Like last night. I’ve decided Damian in clothes should be illegal. He can walk around in his boxers for all I care. After he made me dinner in nothing but his track pants, we sat down and figured out exactly how my restart was going to take place. He had three requirements.
“I’ll help you Addison, under three conditions.”
I sit forward in my chair, not wanting to miss a single word.
“You need to train with me and Reed at least three times a week.”
I’m shaking my head back and forth completely blocking out anything else he has to say. Is he out of his mind?
Laughing, he scoots his chair closer to mine and picks up my hands. “You can do it, Addison and trust me, it’ll make you feel good. You’ll thank me later.”
Feel good? I know of a few other ways I’m sure Damian can make me feel good, going to the track is not one of them. Too doubtful to respond, I nod my head asking him to continue.
“Second, you need to chill on the reality television.”
Again, my head begins to shake back and forth.
“Two shows a week, that’s all I’m giving you. If you get tempted to watch a third, call me and I’ll find a way to . . . entertain you.” He squeezes my hands and I’m wondering what his idea of entertainment is. If it involves him shirtless, I’m all in, if it involves more workouts, he can find someone else to torture.
“I choose my Ninjas and The Voice.” For some reason I feel I need to make this declaration now, like if I don’t grab those specific shows, he’s going to take them away from me.
He smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Good choice.”
Standing, he walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge. My eyes follow his every move. I’m so curious as to what number three could be, that his sudden departure from our discussion has me antsy. He takes a bottle of water and starts drinking, not realizing that my curiosity is killing me.
“What’s number three?” I finally ask.