15. Teddy
Teddy
T he pungent scent of rubber mats and cleaning supplies hits me as I walk through the door of The Warehouse.
After I got home from dealing with Grandad’s truck—which involved a short conversation with the mechanic who basically said, ‘You’re fucked,’ and a trip to the used car lot—I did a cursory search for gyms in the area.
My frustration has mounted to epic levels, and an outlet is becoming necessary.
It’s been in the back of my mind to find a trainer to help me get back into shape, but I couldn’t find the courage to go through with it.
To say I was surprised there is a boxing gym in Sonoma would be an understatement. I made it a couple of days before I couldn’t resist the pull to check it out.
In the center of the room, there are two boxing rings, both of which have people sparring in them.
Around the outer edge are several different types of weight apparatuses, with plenty of room to move around them as well as space to lay out exercise mats.
On the far right side of the gym, the floor is covered in a thick mat-type surface no one is using.
I wonder if they do classes over there .
The receptionist at the desk smiles at me as I walk in. “Hi, how can we help you?”
“I’m interested in joining the gym and working with a personal trainer.
” I shove my hands into my pockets, clenching them into fists.
I have to tell her I have a prosthesis. The trainer will need to be familiar with my limitations if they’re going to work with me.
But this is the first time I’ll have to say it out loud.
I’ve never told anyone about it. Not that there’s been anyone to tell in the first place.
The physical therapist who helped me get used to my prosthetic leg said that hiring a trainer would be the best way to get back into working out. It’s easier to get frustrated when I do it on my own, which I’ve already experienced.
I have no idea if that's a typical bit of advice for anyone getting used to a prosthetic limb or if she’d picked up on my surly mood about it, but I'm grateful she pointed it out.
A part of me wanted to do it alone out of sheer stubbornness.
Then I attempted some of the exercises and stretches the PT assigned and quickly realized that if I had any hope of getting back to my previous physicality, I was going to need some help.
“Absolutely,” the receptionist says. “I’m Ashley. My husband, Jacob, and I run The Warehouse. Are you looking for any specific type of training? We've got a few different options to meet your needs.”
I clear my throat. “I have a prosthetic leg, so I’ll need some help modifying exercises.”
“Jacob has extensive training in that regard, so he’ll be your best bet.”
I look around the room. “Is he here by chance?”
“Yes, that's him over there.” She points to the second ring at the farthest end of the room, where a man with salt-and-pepper hair is sparring with another guy several years younger than him. “I can have him chat with you when he's finished.”
“That would be great.”
“Okay, let me show you around the gym.” Ashley leads me on a tour through the gym, explaining all the ins and outs of being a member.
The fee is surprisingly reasonable, and the locker room and weight sections are all state-of-the-art.
We end the tour back at the reception desk, and Ashley lets me know I'm free to use the facilities whenever I’m ready.
Once she leaves, I set to work doing some stretching exercises I've been failing to do on my own.
A little bit down from me, a man about my age rolls out a mat.
He nods over at me, his blond hair flopping across his forehead.
Then he does a double take, looking at me as if he thinks he might know me.
I have no idea who this guy is, so I go back to my stretches, and so does he. I guess I just looked familiar, then.
He periodically glances at me as if he’s still trying to place me. It takes everything I have to not snap out, Can I help you? When he finishes stretching, he turns his whole attention toward me, and I know he’s finally going to say something.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” he starts.
Then fucking don’t , I want to say, but keep my mouth shut.
“Did you go to school here in Sonoma? You look really familiar.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Is your family from here? Why do I feel like I know you?”
I shrug. “My grandad lived here, but he passed away about eight years ago.”
Then he snaps his finger. “Fuck, that's right. You're the guy in the diner that Lottie was mooning over.”
I snort, unprepared for the dig at Lottie. The guy reaches his hand out. “I’m Noah, Lottie's older cousin, sort of. I guess. We're not technically blood-related, but that's a long story.” He shakes his head as if he's annoyed he blurted all that out.
I shake his hand and introduce myself. “Teddy Kavanagh. ”
“It's nice to finally meet you,” Noah says. “Are you staying in town for a while?”
“Yeah, I moved into my grandad's old place.”
“If you need any help fixing it up—” He cringes. “I know it sounds creepy that I know that; just go with it. This is a small town. We know everything about everyone. Lottie's uncle, Levi, owns a construction company here in town. He'd be happy to help.”
I smirk at his quip about the nosy people in town. “Thanks. I'm about to be at the end of my own knowledge, so I’ll need some help soon.”
“Here, let me give you my phone number. I can send you his contact information.”
A small part of me wants to brush this guy off.
He has no idea who I am, and I have no idea who he is.
Why he'd want to help me with anything makes no sense.
But at the same time, having Lottie around has made me realize how lonely I've gotten. I used to live on base. I was constantly surrounded by guys. Even if I wasn’t friends with them, I never had to worry about eating alone or feeling too adrift.
While I've needed the time alone to heal, I'm begrudgingly realizing it might be time to branch out a little.
I give my number to Noah, who immediately sends me a text in return.
I save his contact info as “blond guy from the gym” and drop my phone back into my duffle.
Noah waves to somebody over my shoulder, and I turn to see two men walking toward us.
They're both about the same height, likely around six feet, but one has really dark hair and dark eyes.
He's got a menacing look that immediately puts me on edge.
The other has lighter coloring with brown hair and eyes.
Something about him feels familiar, but I can't figure out why.
“Dad, Uncle Cooper, I want you to meet somebody,” Noah says.
I groan internally. I knew I shouldn't have been nice to this guy. Meeting one person today was enough. I did not sign on to meet the entire town.
“Dad, this is Teddy. Teddy, this is my dad, Tucker.” He points to the dark and menacing one. Tucker holds his hand out and smiles. It immediately changes his face. “It's nice to meet you, Teddy.”
“I’m Cooper.” The other man holds his hand out to introduce himself.
“Teddy.” I nod.
“Cooper is Lottie's dad,” Noah supplies. My stomach sinks. I feel like I'm walking through quicksand. One wrong move, and I'm gonna sink.
Cooper frowns at me. “You know Lottie?”
“Yeah, we've met a few times. She helped me out when my truck broke down the other day.”
His face goes a little bit more severe. “You mean, she picked up a random man from the side of the road? God, I could fucking kill her.” His exasperated tone makes me want to laugh. It tells me this isn't the only time he’s said those words.
“To be fair, I wasn't a complete stranger. We'd met a few years back after my grandad died. Not that it makes a difference, but I am former Special Forces. I'd never do anything to hurt your daughter.”
Cooper nods at me. “I appreciate the reassurance. Lottie and her blasted podcast will be the death of me, I swear.”
“You know Lottie's more than capable of taking care of herself,” Noah argues.
“Doesn't make it any easier to let her do it,” Cooper grumbles.
“Speak of the devil,” Tucker interrupts. “She's over there.”