Chapter 13 Parker
The clink of heavy weights hitting a rubber gym floor used to bring me peace; it’s been part of the soundtrack of my life since my football days in high school and here at UOB, and then training athletes after I graduated.
Now, though, that sound is the backdrop to the steady thrum of anxious energy coursing through me. After enduring Melody’s gleeful laugh when she returned to our table last night, I made my friends swear they wouldn’t tell Summer about… any of that.
I then spent the night restlessly tossing in bed, trying to figure this out. Toiling over their accusations and the very real possibility that I might be…
Shit, I can’t even bring myself to say it.
I woke up overcome with the need to see Summer. Convinced that, now that the door has cracked open to the possibility that I might… I could lay eyes on her and simply know. One way or another.
Do I, or do I not?
My chin whips around every time the doors swing open at the other end of the training facility, expecting the bounce of Summer’s hair, the soft clap of her sneakers on the floor, that bright grin as she lays eyes on her client.
Always so approachable and ready to go, no matter what she’s feeling that day.
But she doesn’t show up, and I’m the most miserable prick on the premises because of it.
My mood is made even worse by the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do here today, seeing as I showed up unannounced.
Don split my client list among the team during my absence, and after a quick talk about my possible full-time return next week, all I’ve done is sit on the workout bench with the best view of the doors, waiting on Summer’s arrival.
“Nice to see you’re alive.” Noah strolls toward me, freshly showered after the session I watched Don put him through all morning. “I had Zac and Mel breathing down my neck all week, asking whether I was back on your schedule.” Noah pauses, takes a better look at me. “You look rough as hell, man.”
“I’ve been off sick,” I tell him, resuming my vigil. “How’s it been training with Don?”
Noah glances over his shoulder. “He has me on two-a-days.”
I make a face. “Why? Training camp isn’t for a while.”
“He kept insisting. I agreed just to shut him up.”
“Great.” I’m sure the Hornets are going to love hearing that idiot’s trying to exhaust their star quarterback in his off-season, after a deep playoff run.
“At least I got a muffin out of it.” Noah happily unpacks one from his gym bag. “What’s-her-name brought some in this morning.”
A laugh bursts out of my mouth, surprising us both. “Kendra brought in muffins?”
Out of habit, my gaze bounces around the gym, looking for Summer.
Noah breaks a piece off the top and offers it to me, shoving it into his mouth when I decline.
“So, are you going to this planning party tonight? Summer threatened my balls if I skip it. Which I won’t, obviously. I quite like my balls.”
“Was this today? She texted you today?” I hadn’t heard a peep from anyone about the planning party Summer put on everyone’s calendars last month. I suppose it’s a relief, knowing that she still plans on organizing a birthday party for me and my sister.
Noah gives me a look. “She texted me yesterday. Are you two still not speaking?”
A loud clapping draws our attention across the gym, where we find Don standing in the doorway to the adjoining rehab center. “Team meeting, everyone. Can I see you all in here?”
I give an irritated sigh. I saw the block in the team calendar when I showed up this morning, but had hoped to have made my exit before it came around. Noah hikes his bag up his shoulder, still munching on the muffin as we move across the gym.
“Are you back to work on Monday?”
“Maybe. I’ll make sure you’re on my schedule if I am.”
The team is already surrounding Don by the time Noah and I part ways. Some sit on the ground, others prop themselves up on treatment tables. I stand at the very back of the group, with a perfect view of the doors. Just in case.
“I’ve got some exciting news,” Don starts.
“Obviously things have become busier than ever these last few months. We’ve had pro athletes from every major league wanting to work with this team after our effort in getting Brooks Attwood signed and winning his first shot at a Super Bowl after his injury. ”
My snort draws a fair share of stares, but I couldn’t care less. He says our effort like Brooks hadn’t specifically hired me for the job. Not a single one of them touched his training program other than Summer, and I wouldn’t have let them near it if they’d tried.
Instead of correcting him, I pull out my phone and eye my dormant text thread with Summer. I wonder whether telling her I plan to skip tonight’s planning party might get her to talk to me for the sole purpose of threatening my balls.
“Things are about to get even busier,” Don continues. “We’ve just signed a deal with the Boston Sabres, to support their trainers with the recovery of players on their injured reserve. They were impressed with our work with Attwood and believe we can do it again.”
My head snaps up. The Sabres are the top MLB team in their league. A deal like that would bring athletes of the highest caliber to our facility, and we—I—would be focused on recovery rather than running regular training routines. Again, I find myself looking for Summer.
“We’ve already got our first major client,” Don says over the collective murmur. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, Alfie Norton has suffered repeat injuries to his Achilles tendon, and—”
Alfie Norton? Fuck it. I’m texting her. She’ll have to talk to me once she hears this. My fingers fly over my phone.
“That said, I’ll be leading the program myself.” My fingers freeze. “And Kendra here will be assisting me.”
And that spark, that gasp of life inside me, fizzles out to nothing.
“Is that a joke?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and everyone, Kendra and her muffins included, turns to stare at me. “You’re assigning Alfie Norton to yourself just like that? The rest of us don’t even have a shot at it?”
“There will be opportunities in the future—”
“Opportunities bigger than Alfie Norton? The face of Major League Baseball?”
“I’m sensing some frustration.”
“No shit you are.” There are more than a few gasps around the room.
I can feel my mind spinning out of control, all reason leaving the building.
Can feel the threat of self-destruction coming, and coming fast. But I can’t get it to stop, let alone make myself shut up.
And the one person who’d have had a fighting chance at talking me down didn’t make it to the show.
“I’ve spent all year listening to you take credit for the work I put in with Brooks, like you even lifted a fucking finger. ”
“Parker.” There’s a warning in his tone, but I don’t give a damn. This is the last drop in a bucket of bullshit, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Yeah, Parker.” I jab my thumb at my chest. “The guy whose work got you that deal to begin with. You have no idea how many hours out of my day it took to get Brooks into winning shape. I gave up my weekends for months. And I was the only reason he trained here in the first place. But hey”—I give a dry chuckle while Don silently stares—“maybe I didn’t need to do all that.
Maybe all I had to do was offer you my muffin. ”
Don’s arms fall limply at his sides. There’s a death sentence in the glare he sends across the room. “My office. Now.”
“Let me save you the trouble.” I move past the training staff littered around the room, all staring in varying degrees of shock, and head right for the exit.
“You quit your job?”
Melody’s cocktail glass claps down to the countertop in her kitchen, color draining from her face.
I turn an irritated look on Noah, who felt the urge to announce my employment status barely thirty seconds into his arrival at Zac and Mel’s waterfront house on the outskirts of Oakwood.
Apparently, Don hadn’t wasted any time letting my clients know I’d be permanently unavailable.
“Thanks for that, Irving. Nice to know you can keep things to yourself.”
He winces and retreats out of reach of Mel’s scowl.
“That’s it.” My sister hops off the stool she’s been perched on at the island. “Forget party planning. This is now an intervention.”
“I don’t need an intervention. Things just… got out of control, all right? But I’ll figure it out. Get another job.”
“Because Oakwood is rife with training facilities.” I ignore Zac’s sarcasm but accept the glass of water he hands me.
Obviously, the fact that there’s only one gym in the whole of Oakwood Bay wasn’t part of this morning’s thought process. But, to be fair, there hadn’t exactly been a thought process.
In fact, I’m not sure the reality has hit me quite yet. Since heading home from my untriumphant return to work, I’ve been a fidgety mess. I’m so close to laying eyes on Summer for the first time in a week.
The anticipation is eating away at me so bad, it hasn’t been hard to ignore the watchful looks from Zac, Mel, and Shy, all likely wondering what kind of show they’re in for after last night.
I wave a hand, dismissing Mel’s concern. “Let’s shelve this conversation. This night’s about us, Mels. Planning our thirtieth birthday party.”
Mel grimaces. “Neither of us care about a party. This is all Zac and Summer’s doing.”
I study my glass. “And… where is Summer exactly? Out of curiosity.”
Noah snickers.
The front door swings open and goddamn, my heart almost gives out. It forgoes several beats and catapults into my throat, cutting off my air supply. I’m fairly certain Zac tries to make eye contact, but I can’t return it. My gaze is stuck to the kitchen doorway.
It’s been a long, drawn-out starvation, and I can’t waste another moment of my miserable existence not looking at Summer.
Not knowing for sure.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry I’m late! I totally lost track of time.” Summer hurries into the kitchen, carrying a large white box in her arms.