Chapter Nine
Gabe
My legs screamed as I sprinted the last few meters to the base of the museum steps, the brisk morning air burning my nose and throat on the way to my lungs and back out.
As I crossed the invisible finish line, the rush of endorphins coated my muscles in relief.
I slowed to a walk, my hands finding the top of my head, sweat dripping off my face, and cooled down in big circles.
It was still early enough that while plenty of cars were out, only a few other pedestrians dotted the museum’s courtyard.
I liked to get here even earlier when I could.
Just in time for the sun to crest the horizon and bathe the museum’s stone in orange light.
I missed it this morning, in part because I’d gone to bed late.
After Evan and Aubrey had left game night early, I’d hung out with my dad until well past dark and caught the last bus back to the city.
Growing up, I hadn’t had much time with him, just the two of us. Either Evan, my mom, or both were with us, or I was popping in and out to see friends while home for short visits between training. I’d never felt like our relationship had been missing anything; it was just how we were.
But being with him now felt like we’d hung out that way for years. Without trying, we’d settled into a mode where we could just be—watch a game or something on TV—no conversation necessary. It was like he was content just to have me near despite my presence driving Evan away.
No way that didn’t hurt Dad. No way it didn’t press directly on the wounds I’d poured salt into by ghosting. The same way my refusing to sleep at the house probably did.
Yet he hadn’t asked me to. Or pressured me to stay last night even though it was late. He’d just given me a hug and told me he loved me.
He should hate me. Should struggle to look at me. He should have slammed the door in my face on New Year’s and made me sleep on the steps.
I was grateful he was stronger than I was.
It probably helped he hadn’t seen the state of the gym or the size of the cot I was sleeping on.
Aubrey was the only one it felt right to give that glimpse to yet. She’d seen enough of the other broken parts of me without criticism that I knew she wouldn’t judge.
In some ways, it felt like she and I had hung out this way for years too.
Like we grabbed coffee every week at our usual spot and knew each other’s orders when, in truth, this was the first time besides the other night we’d be together just the two of us.
Before now, it had always been Hardt family gatherings or, at the very least, something with Evan.
It made getting coffee kind of a big step for our friendship. One I was surprisingly nervous about. The fun kind of nerves—like the ones that kept my blood pumping before a fight—but still nerves.
Boxing used to be the only thing that sparked them.
Across the street, a flash of blond hair caught the breeze from beneath the purple beanie containing it, drawing my eye to Aubrey as she made her way through the crosswalk.
She was bundled in a leather jacket and gloves, all black, including her leggings and boots, like the world’s most adorable burglar.
Halfway across the intersection, she spotted me and beamed. My heart gave a kick in my chest that had nothing to do with the three miles I’d just run.
Since retiring, my routine had been two miles in the morning, four days a week. Now that I was back in training for real, the first step was to dial that distance up and add two more days. Nothing else I did would matter if my cardio couldn’t keep up.
That was why I’d suggested we meet here. It was a route I liked to run, and the museum was a closer trek for her than the gym. Not to mention, the gym was practically this cold anyway, but without the sun to warm our skin.
Plus, this had always been one of my favorite spots in the city: The view straight down the Parkway to city hall where William Penn’s statue stood tall among the skyline.
The subtle peace of the Schuylkill River beside us.
The way it felt like its own little bubble, both plugged in enough to still feel the charge of the city but on the outskirts enough to have space to breathe.
I needed that space more than ever with the strain of being home a constant pressure on my chest.
“Hi,” Aubrey said as she reached me at the base of the museum’s steps. She hadn’t been running, but she sounded a little out of breath. She thrust one of the two green cardboard cups she held at me like she’d rehearsed how to do it and didn’t want to forget.
My mouth ticked up, my own nerves settling at the sight of hers.
This was Aubrey. Always a little flustered around me, but still sharp and observant. I’d known since we were kids how to get her to open up, to crack a warm smile and share a genuine laugh. Just like she knew how to prod me over texts to dig a little deeper and share a little more.
This might have been a new step for our friendship, but we were still us.
I accepted the drink, the cup warm against my cold hands. “Thank you.” The first sip of green tea was scorching hot. I drank coffee sometimes, but I wasn’t a fan of too much caffeine during a training session. I nodded at her cup. “What’d you get?”
“A mocha.”
I grinned. “Should have known.” If chocolate was an option, Aubrey was all over it.
“Hey, sometimes I get a plain latte,” she said, her nose pink from the wind. “But today felt like a special occasion.”
My smile softened. It did feel special. I liked that she thought so too. I raised my cup for a toast, and she tapped hers to it.
“So is this usually when you go to work?” I asked as we headed to sit on the steps. I steered us toward a sunny spot.
“Sometimes. It depends on the day. Morning events mean getting to the kitchen at four a.m. Evening events, I can usually wait until noon.”
“Do you have a preference?”
She tilted her head and gazed out at the city. “Probably evening events, but that may just be because the schedule is easier for me to manage.”
“What, you’re not a morning person?”
She cringed. “God, no. Sometimes I wish I was, especially in the summer when it’s sunny and bright. It can be a bummer to feel like I missed so much of the day.”
I almost never had that problem. Over a decade of early training sessions meant I couldn’t sleep in if I tried. “I could start giving you wake-up calls every morning before my run,” I joked. “How does five o’clock sound?”
Her laughter warmed me better than the tea. “Like a good way to get me to block your number.”
“Come on. Think of all those early hours you could take advantage of. The sun would be thrilled to see you.”
“Somehow, I think the sun will manage.”
I knew firsthand what the sun would be missing by not experiencing her in person. “In that case, I’m flattered you met me this early. The coffee must be worth it.”
“It’s worth it without the coffee,” she said. Her expression grew more serious. “It gives me a chance to apologize for everything with Evan yesterday.”
I shook my head before she finished the sentence, my smile gone. “Don’t. It’s not your job to fix our relationship. And it definitely isn’t your fault it’s broken.” That responsibility didn’t belong anywhere near her shoulders.
“No, I know,” she said, glancing at the cup in her hands. Her gloved thumbs ran along the rim of the lid. “I just felt bad leaving like that. I didn’t want you to think I agreed with what he said.”
I knew she didn’t. I might have agreed with it, but that was my own shit to figure out. She was the last person I wanted carrying it. “Trust me, you being here for me the way you have is more than enough.” Way more. It was everything.
I never would have reached out to someone to talk about the stuff with Mom if Aubrey hadn’t reached out first. All the anger and confusion and pain still clinging to my ribs, to my lungs and heart, would have taken me all the way over and eaten me from the inside out like a toxic mold.
I didn’t know where I would have ended up, but it wouldn’t have been back in Philly. I doubted I would even be me anymore.
A smile touched her cheeks. “Okay, good. Because I also want to be there for you at the tournament.” She set down her drink and presented me her cupped hands, her eyes alight. “One ticket, please.”
My mouth twitched. She’d learned those puppy dog eyes from Evan. “No,” I said lightly.
“What, you don’t want me there?”
I held back a scoff. “Of course I do, but you don’t have to buy a ticket. You can come as my guest.”
“But I want to pay for it. I want to contribute to you getting your gym.” Her bottom lip jutted out. “Please?”
More laughter stirred in my chest. I ignored it and tried to look stern. Then she blinked her long lashes at me, her big hazel eyes brighter than ever against her purple hat, and I crumbled. “Fine. I’ll bring you one tomorrow.”
Her grin overtook her face as she bounced her knees in a seated victory dance that was equal parts ridiculous and utterly cute. As much as I’d rather not take her money, a softness filled my chest at how happy she was to support me. That I could make her this happy by letting her.
“You’ll be the first person to officially buy one,” I said. Dad wouldn’t know how many tickets he needed for at least a few days, so she may as well embrace it fully.
“Yes,” she quietly exclaimed.
I shook my head, amused.
“Oh, come on, this is an honor. And if it helps, I can find a way for you to do something for me in exchange. That way, you’d be contributing to my business too.”
I slid her my gaze. “I’m listening.”
“Come to dinner with me this week. I was planning on checking out one of the other restaurants doing the catering competition to get a feel for what I’m up against.”
I suppressed the thrill that shot through me and pretended to consider. “I am experienced with opponent research.” Watching hours of film before a fight to try to get a read on the other guy had been as much a part of my training as bag work.
“See, and I’m brand new at it. You could be the difference between me winning and losing.”
“Now that, I highly doubt. But I’d be honored to join you.”
“Good.” She smirked like she’d just landed a triple word score. “Then we’re both honored.”
“Looks like it.”
She raised her mostly empty coffee cup for another toast. I tapped mine against hers and watched her lips rise. Her eyes lowered as they did, like she wanted to keep the extent of her joy a secret, but I saw.
Honored was right.