Chapter 34 Lucas Fails to Outrun His Feelings
Lucas Fails to Outrun His Feelings
After two hours on my regular treadmill at The Hench Bench, I was still trapped in my own body.
I cranked up the incline another five percent, waiting for my brain to finally disengage from the rest of me.
I’d barely slept last night, and it wasn’t like Mom was pressuring me to talk, but after I’d told her Armand and I had fought, she was a little too present, like I was a powder keg about to explode.
Part of me had hoped that things would look different in the light of day, but I remained gutted, pushing my muscles into an electric burn to escape the devastation on Armand’s face, and the ever-present gremlin in my mind that cackled about how I’d been so completely oblivious.
I couldn’t be trusted with his secret, I was as stupid and gullible as ever, nothing had changed after all.
Endorphins carried me away in a euphoric tingle—why should I care about any of that when I was floating, flying away?—my skin buzzing as I pushed harder, faster—
My vision blipped.
The flickers of cold meant I was finally lightheaded enough to stop, so I gradually slowed, gripping the machine’s handles as my whole body yawned, pulling away from me as I stepped onto solid ground. Just a quick cool down walk, and—
My legs crumpled, and I was blinking dazedly at the gym’s abrasive fluorescent lights.
“Whoa! You all right, mate?”
Everything was going in and out, a telescope rotating into focus. Fingers—strong but gentle—clamped onto my shoulder, and distantly I felt my head loll on my shoulders as I was pulled into sitting.
“Right, there we go. Nice and slow, that’s a boy.
” Big dark eyes. A pile of hair twists. Pieces swam into focus enough to recognize Abigay, Armand’s friend.
Right, I’d totally forgotten she worked here.
She crouched beside me, shoulders all hard muscle but soft everywhere else, face pulled up in quiet concern.
A water bottle appeared under my nose. “You can’t binge a run like that, mate, you’re bound to be honking. Have a drink. Slowly, mind.”
It took a moment to fully curl my fingers around the bottle. “I’m fine,” I managed, feeling like I was speaking underwater. “Went too long, that’s all.”
Abigay grunted softly, spotting me as I sipped, probably worried I’d drown myself. “Lucas, right? Haven’t seen you since the club. Had better days, eh?”
My throat was remembering how to swallow. I nodded in slow motion.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” she continued, and from the depths of the disorientation, I remembered the exhibition.
“Been working, and also I love Belle and Sam and Armo and all, and you seem lovely, but I can’t stand all these arty events.
” She chuckled huskily. “Makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a little cheese on a stick.”
The rows of ellipticals and Stairmasters were solidifying in my field of vision, though it was all a bit too bright. “You and me both.”
Abigay had never relinquished her grip on my shoulder. Rather than overstimulating, it was surprisingly comforting. She considered me a long moment before saying, slowly and deliberately, “This is about Jean, isn’t it? He told you.”
An edged, manic sound slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Oh my god, did everyone know?” Everyone but me— “And Armand still didn’t warn me about him. What the fuck.”
“If it counts for anything,” she continued steadily, “they were all begging him to tell you. He wanted to. He was just . . . in denial. And scared.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore,” he’d said, seemingly terrified that I’d leave, that I’d abandon him over this.
And I guess I had.
I was tired, so very tired. “Do I know him at all?” Did I fly to England with a total stranger?
“Yeah, you know him.” I must’ve seemed okay enough to let go of because Abigay sat back, her wide shoulders blocking my view of the other gym members. And their view of me. “Look, I came in after it all went down, and it took nearly a year for Belle to fill me in. And that weren’t even her damage.”
It took some effort for the words to process. A year in the friend group before learning what I’d demanded to know after three months. “Um,” I started. “Wow. That must’ve been hard. For all of you.”
Abigay nodded. “I can tell you this: in the three years I’ve known him . . . Well, he’s always been a bit of a broody git, but not with you. With you, he’s seemed happy, and that’s not nothing.”
My heartrate had slowed enough for me to notice when it kicked back up a notch. “We’ve been moving so fast,” I whispered. Now that the runner’s high had unfortunately dissipated, the fight was coming back into focus. “I don’t know how much of this is real.”
Abigay shrugged. “Looked real from the outside. But then again lots does.” She held my hand as I maneuvered to my feet. “World still wonky?”
The dizziness had settled, the white spots in the corner of my vision fading away. “I’m better,” I assured her, suddenly grateful someone was here. I gathered my things with performative slowness, making sure nothing started spinning again. “Thanks.”
Abigay handed me a second water bottle. “Don’t mention it.
Oh, Lucas?” She waited until I’d given her my full attention, her face deadly serious.
“Don’t do that again, yeah? The binge workouts.
If you keep it up, your heart’ll give out, or you’ll develop arthritis.
I’ve seen it too many times, mate. People who think they’re making healthy choices by pushing themselves with exercise, but it won’t work. You could die.”
My skin prickled, Armand’s words from last night rearing back into the front of my mind. “You have an eating disorder, Lucas. You need help.”
It didn’t feel true in my body, and I was perfectly content to chalk his words up to the fact that we were fighting, we’d both been hurt. I didn’t have to believe him about this.
But Abigay was a personal trainer, this was her profession. She barely knew me, so what reason would she have to lie about something she knew so much about?
I told her I’d be more careful, and she let me leave. A part of me felt like I was getting away with it—I knew my body better than she or Armand did—but all the way to the subway station something hot inside me radiated.
Helphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelp.
On autopilot I returned to the Savoy, where Mom was sitting cross-legged on the bed, doing a face mask.
“Hi, baby. I saved one for you if you wanted to— Oh honey, what’s wrong?”
Because she could tell. She could always tell.
And I broke.
I sank to the floor, and in seconds she was right there, holding me as I curled into the fetal position and cried.