Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) (12 page)

I waited until adoption hours were over to clean her enclosure. Even on her best day it took several minutes to coax her from her cage, and she would tremble like Jell-O being shaken on a plate by a two-year-old while I completed the task. I didn’t want any distractions or loud noises to spook her.

“Hey, sweetie, time for cleaning.” The white fluff tried to burrow into the cinder block wall. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

I heard one of the adoption counselors behind me. “She’s a nice dog, just has so many issues. Her behavior and her weight problems are too much for many good homes to deal with. I think she’d be a good dog, eventually. We’re thinking if she doesn’t get adopted in the next ten days…” She sighed. “Well, you know. Have a good week, Presley.”

After that news … really?

I swallowed hard. Just being written-off as problematic or unfixable or unlovable wasn’t fair. Being given ten days to transform your head and your body was a death sentence in itself.

With patience, the little lady finally crept her way toward me, two steps forward, one step back. I let her sniff the back of my hand as she passed by, and she did a butterfly kiss nuzzle before scuttling away. She sat next to the kennel door. Her eyes never met mine and her head hung low. Sadly, we had the same physical posture and wondered if someone in her past had walked over her heart, too. Someone in motorcycle boots and a leather jacket.

Before I let her back into the kennel, I sat against the chain-link door, and she sat next to me. Not close. The only people in the building were the office staff and me. They would finish in about an hour and it would be time to leave. In minutes her body moved to lie against mine. In a couple more minutes her head rested against my leg. In another couple she was on my lap. I still hadn’t tried to pet her. It would scare her to be touched.

When I heard the office being locked up, I kept my voice low. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but they’re going to turn off the lights soon and I have to leave.”

She raised her head and for the first time I got to see her eyes. Grey globes of sadness surrounded by white hope stared up at me. I calmly raised my hand and ran it down her back. She shuddered at the touch the first time but I did it again slower and she relaxed a smidge. I grazed down her back a couple more times. As if she was saying, “I’ve had enough,” she scooted off my lap, gave a small shake, which was great dog body language for “I’m feeling better,” and walked into her kennel. She didn’t look back. She went to her place on her pillow in the corner and curled into a ball.

I wanted to do the same, so I did. I went home and crawled back into my bed. Ignoring my phone when it buzzed with a text, then another, and later another, I kept my eyes closed and turned the grating-on-my-last-nerve metal off and sobbed into my pillow.

There was a knock on my bedroom door. Without invitation the six-panel wood door opened and light flooded into the room.

I pretended to be asleep, but Willow probed for information. “Presley, did you eat today?”

I ignored her.

“I’m not leaving until you answer me, and I might go get someone to start an IV line for liquid nourishment if you haven’t and choose not to eat something.”

“No, I didn’t eat, but if I do, I guarantee every bite will come back up. You and I both know what that might set off. I understand your concern, but it’s best I don’t start that chain reaction, Willow.”

I had an eating disorder for most of my teenage years, binging and purging meals until my body was crumbling from the inside out. I caused irreparable damage to my esophagus and the regurgitation had the not-so-lovely effect of triggering asthma. Thankfully, blessed with some hereditary graces, my teeth and heart stayed in good condition. There was always an undercurrent of potential relapse, especially if I attached an emotional issue to reversing a meal. The average stomach flu wouldn’t do it, but binging and purging emotions in association with food was likely to send me into a downward spiral that Willow, or even a medical professional, wouldn’t be able to fix.

“Honey, I understand. You know I do. Maybe we can talk about it and find a way to understand what happened together?”

I released a sob that had Willow moving toward the bed. “Thanks, Willow, but I want to sleep.” I tried to calm myself, but it was a complete freefall of emotion. “I’ll go to my training session in the morning and move on. I have a date with Rahl, the blond bartender from Two Fine, on Tuesday night at Brix. Maybe that will be something.” An involuntary wail of sadness that it wasn’t Jude hit the air.

Standing over me, Willow sighed. “Okay, Prez, but if you don’t eat something tomorrow, I’m instituting a friendship food intervention at DEFCON 1.”

“Understood, and I appreciate your concern. Good night, Willow.”

“Good night, Presley. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She shut the door and I bawled myself to sleep.

Chapter Ten

Telling Presley that a professional relationship was the way to go was about the hardest thing I’d had to do in the last four years. After that morning’s three-hour seminar at Triple R on sexual harassment of and by coworkers, bosses, and clients in the workplace, I protected my career.

While I was telling Presley the whys of being only her trainer, I caught a glimpse of those easy-to-read emerald green eyes and almost said to hell with my career, but she took the news relatively well, which led me to believe maybe she wasn’t that interested anyway. I stuck with my reasoning but I couldn’t stop thinking about her for the rest of the day. I
was
that interested. Being just her trainer was going to be a struggle.

You’re being smart. Doing the right thing.

I barely made it through my shift at the bar Saturday night. Rahl told me he’d asked Presley out for drinks at Brix on Tuesday and asked what I knew about her. I gave a one-word response and acted too busy to elaborate. The Ogre—the waitresses had nicknamed Rahl the fitting moniker—commented about what he perceived as an attitude problem on my part. I responded that he would know. After all, he was the king of attitude. He huffed a chain of creative and noteworthy expletives under his breath. Jabbing the Ogre was never a great idea. I got the hell out of there as soon as possible, driving the backstreets a little too fast on my motorcycle to match the thoughts racing through my mind.  

Sunday, I made a trip to the gym early in crazy hopes that maybe Presley would be there, and I could see how she was doing, but she wasn’t. On my way out, I remembered her saying she volunteered. Legitimately and logically, I kept telling myself that remaining professional was a good decision, but when it came to attraction and lingering feelings there was a lot to be said for acting irrationally.

Zane left for work and the house was too quiet. Lying in bed, I texted Presley. I considered that she said I didn’t have to but every cell of my body wanted and needed to know she was okay.

Jude:
I know you said I didn’t have to but—5am. See you then.

A half hour went by. I didn’t like what I was feeling when there wasn’t a return text.

Jude:
Are you okay?

Ten more minutes went by. I wondered if something was really wrong.

Jude:
Presley, can you let me know if you’re okay? Please.

Five minutes later, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called Kanyon.

“Hey, Ponytail.”

I chuckled.

Seems the nickname is going to stick.

I started with a soft opener. “Hey, Kanyon. So how is Willow, stud?”

“That’s a loaded question, dude.”

“Why?”

“Are you really asking about Willow or are you actually asking about Presley?”

My chest constricted, pulling at something that was fresh and raw on the inside. I did a sit-up in my bed. “What happened?”

“I think I should be asking you that question.”

“Kanyon, what’s wrong? Is it Presley? Is she okay?”

Kanyon sighed. “Not that I should be divulging what Willow told me, but I think you need to hear it. Willow came home yesterday after work and found Presley all kinds of messed up, crying, mumbling incoherently, and lying on the floor in the living room in a daze.”

I held my breath while he continued his relay of information.

“Willow cancelled our date for Saturday night to take care of Presley. I convinced her to let me come over to keep her company and we listened to Presley cry in her sleep all night long through the paper-thin walls, which was a
real
mood killer. I’m pretty sure Willow wants to cut off the man part of your body. Jude, what the hell did you do?”

I sucked in a breath. “What I had to do. We had this excruciatingly long but eye-opening training about sexual harassment at Triple R yesterday morning. I realized I’d blurred the lines of trainer and client. Not only could I be fired, but because of my actions, I might have made Presley feel uncomfortable.”

“Okay, didn’t she get a hold of you to talk in the morning?”

“I was in that meeting. She left me a voice mail saying she was sorry for Friday night and regretted her behavior. I didn’t understand why she had regrets but it made me feel like I had to be the responsible one to get us out of something that might be causing her distress. I went to her house and told her I thought it was smart to stay in a professional relationship, but also I endangered her life on Friday by not concentrating on my responsibilities as her personal trainer and I didn’t want that to happen again.”

The silence that filled a minute or longer made me uneasy. I checked my phone. The signal was still there.

“Kanyon?”

“You’re a fucking idiot!”

“What?” The question shot out of my mouth.

“Fucking idiot! She can find another trainer. When she does, where does that leave you? You told her you know what’s best for her. You didn’t
ask
her what she wanted to happen. When I left Willow and Presley’s place on Saturday morning, Presley was all set to call you and make an effort to get to know more than the pretty picture on the exterior of your idiot body. Didn’t she do that?”

“Like I said, she left me a voice message while I was in a meeting at Triple R. I don’t remember all of it but I do know she didn’t sound happy. I showed up at her home and told her what I needed to. She didn’t really react anyway, so maybe she wasn’t that interested.”

I was trying to give legitimate reasons but everything I said came out with an uncomfortable edge.

“Again, you’re a fucking idiot!”

“Stop saying that!” I grunted.

“No, I won’t. Presley will probably call me an asshole for suggesting that you two could have something real together, something more than a trainer/trainee relationship. You turned around and told her everything I was spouting was crap. She probably didn’t sound happy ‘cause she had one hell of a hangover. You need to get your shit straight, Jude. I like Willow. I’m going to make sure she stays happy cause when Willow’s not happy it makes me unhappy. Have you ever seen me unhappy?”

I went to answer “no” but he cut me off.

“It’s not pretty, Jude. You cause that unhappy feeling again and I’ll make your pretty face not pretty, too.”

“Are you threatening me?” My jaw tightened and my legs rolled to the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m trying to get your head out of your ass! You had a beautiful girl right at your fingertips, a beautiful girl wanting you, ready to be with you, trying to trust you. Screw personal training. You can find another client, but you’ll never find another Presley.”

He’s right about that. Fuck!

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Is she okay today?”

“No. I just talked to Willow and Presley hasn’t eaten since yesterday morning. Apparently this concerns Willow a lot. She wouldn’t tell me why.”

I lay back in my bed. “I tried to text her a reminder for our session, but I haven’t heard anything back.”

“And you won’t. She’s asleep, again. You and I both know that if Presley hasn’t eaten tomorrow, she shouldn’t be working out. Jude, I know we’ve only known each other for a month and you have no real reason to listen to me, but bro, you screwed up. Make it right. These are two gorgeous girls who deserve good guys, if we’re lucky enough to be those two guys—”

“I hear you, Kanyon. Shit!” I sat back up and ran my hand through my hair. “Presley has a date with the moody bartender from Two Fine on Tuesday.”

“So? Get her before he does. When she shows tomorrow, be the biggest pussy on Earth and get that woman to feel something for you again. Make it clear she shouldn’t go on that date with that guy. I know you’ve got moves.” Kanyon chuckled. “So use them.”

“Okay, I hear you. Just don’t call me a fucking idiot again. I really hate that and it makes me want to hate you.”

He chuckled again. “I’ll stop calling you one when you stop being one.”

I released a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Different subject. Quaker Steak and Lube, Thursday night?”

“Sure. Meet at your house. Maybe with Willow and Presley?”

“Maybe. And hopefully.”

“Good luck, Jude.”

“Thanks.”

And then it was 4:55 a.m. Monday morning at Triple R, and there was no sign of Presley. I turned to Emerson.

“Hey, Presley said she gave you an envelope on Friday. Where is it?” I leaned over the desk waving in her face to get her attention when she pretended not to hear me.

“I don’t remember that happening. If Princess did, it would be in your mailbox.”

Emerson shot her response back calmly, but I could tell she was lying. One, Presley wouldn’t lie. She had no reason to. Two, Emerson would. She had every messed-up reason to.

“Don’t lie to me, Emerson.”

“Don’t call me a liar, Jude, and don’t have someone I barely know take me home. How did you know he wasn’t going to rape me?”

I grumbled under my breath, rifling through my mailbox at the back of the front desk. “Sounds like it was the other way around to me.”

There was no envelope.

“What did you say?” she spat.

“Nothing. I’m going to use the restroom. If Presley gets here, tell her I’ll be right back. And be nice for once!”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Emerson saluted me with her middle finger.

I headed into the locker room and pulled my phone out of my locker.

There was a text at 4:33 a.m.

Presley:
Not feeling well. Sorry for late notice. Won’t be in today. Goodbye

Jude:
:-(

I was the biggest pussy in history for sending a sad face, but I held out hope that maybe the move would at least inspire a return text and then hopefully an invitation to a conversation and then…

I returned to the gym floor.

Emerson flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “Princess is stretching and waiting for you, your highness.”

But I thought?

I walked around the desk to the stretching area and sure enough, Presley sat on the mat, her back to me. Her eyes held to mine in the mirror as a forced smile trailed through her sad face.

How do I play this? The real me … that’s how.

I squatted next to her.

“Presley…”

She turned her head to me, and I searched her face for some emotion I could hold onto, to build us back to being solid.

“I’m really sorry.”

But there was nothing.

“I’m here. Let’s get this over with so I can go home to get ready for work. I didn’t bring my usual wardrobe change with me.” Her words were straightforward and detached from any sentiment other than distance. Her hurt dug into my gut as she cringed away from me. She stood and grabbed her water bottle. “Okay, I’m ready.”

It was going to take some work to mend this. I’d done hard labor before, building houses. I’d buckle down and put in the time to fix the mess I’d created.

No, this was a colossal-sized fuck-up.

Since she may not have eaten, and I didn’t want to betray Willow’s trust in Kanyon, I kept the workout light.

“Let’s start with a little cardio warm-up.”

I had her walk at a slow pace and even that seemed to fatigue her. After she stepped off the treadmill, I walked her around the gym for a cooldown.

“How was volunteering yesterday?”

She took a little while and everything in me wanted to ask again, but I held my tongue.

“It was okay. There’s this little dog that I can’t get out of my mind. If she doesn’t get adopted this week, she’s going to be…” She rubbed her temples. The move told me the words she couldn’t say. “She needs a family that will understand her. She’s got a little extra weight around the middle and doesn’t warm up to people immediately. I can see a great dog in her. I hope someone else can too, before it’s too late.”

“Why not adopt her yourself?”

Presley’s eyes, which had been dropped to the floor, met mine as we approached the mirror. It was obviously something she’d considered. She refocused ahead of us as we walked and stayed quiet.

“Ninja is a stray I found at a construction job site. Either he’d crawled into the dumpster and couldn’t get out, or someone had put him there. I don’t know which is worse to think happened. As soon as I heard him I knew he was mine. He helped me through a pretty rough stretch after a long-term relationship ended. Maybe this little dog was brought into your life to be there for you like you could be there for her.”

              “I just don’t know if I’m ready,” she said while she finished her last steps around the track and followed me to the warm-up area.

“Did you get my texts last night?” I asked.

“Not until this morning. I went to bed early.”

“Your text this morning said you’re not feeling well. How are you feeling now?”

“Honestly, like crap and a little hungry.”

“Maybe we should call it a day so you can go eat and rest?”