38. Kyle
KYLE
Kyle slowed on the sidewalk as his watch vibrated on his wrist, then came to a full stop.
Jeremy groaned beside him. “More push-ups?”
Grinning, Kyle nodded. “Yup.”
He dropped where he was, unconcerned about being seen, even though he was in the middle of the neighborhood. He set his hands out, careful to position his shoulder carefully as he started the movement.
For the past two weeks, while Sloan had been gone, this had been the routine: three times a day, plus PT. Run five miles, stopping every half mile for twenty-five push-ups. Lots of stretching in between. Easy enough.
“This after weight training is just cruel, bro,” Jeremy said, getting down on the sidewalk slowly.
“Yeah, yeah. Weak ass.”
Both the surgeon and Wanda had urged caution, even though they’d cleared him for starting limited weight training.
But Kyle knew himself—knew where he was in his recovery. Even Wanda continued to express amazement at how well he was doing.
He’d accomplish nothing by babying that shoulder. Train enough, work hard enough, and he’d be fine.
Or you might ruin your shoulder forever.
The voice of reason didn’t win out. He kept going, taking measured exhales and inhales with each movement.
He finished the push-ups and stood, wiping the sweat from his brow as Jeremy finished.
Jeremy rested against the sidewalk without shame, setting his cheek against it. “Just leave me here and keep going. I’ll catch up eventually.”
Kyle squatted beside him. “I’m fairly certain your face is in bird crap.”
“As long as you don’t tell my girlfriend, I’m good with that,” Jeremy said, crawling onto his hands and knees.
Girlfriend. Kyle smirked. He’d been a little surprised when Jeremy had come by earlier in the week and announced that he and Anna had started dating.
And he was happy for Jeremy—even if it meant that Jeremy had been cutting out early on their training sessions in the afternoons to get ready to hang out with Anna.
When Jeremy wasn’t available, he ran with one of the dogs. Charlie usually did better than Sadie, but by the afternoon it was too hot and neither dog enjoyed it. Thank God fall was around the corner.
They started running again and by the time they were closing in on the last half mile to Sloan’s house, Kyle wasn’t loving the heat either.
His shirt stuck to his back, soaked through, his head was starting to hurt.
But being out here was better than being in the house in a lot of ways, as much as he’d started to love the dogs.
“Any word on when Sloan’s getting back?” Jeremy asked, almost creepily echoing Kyle’s thoughts.
“Nah, not yet. She’s been pretty busy.” Yeah. That’s what we’ll stick with.
Too busy to call the man watching her dogs? The one she’s romantically involved with?
“But didn’t your new lease already start? I still have a note in my calendar that you needed help moving this weekend.”
Don’t remind me.
“Yeah . . . I can’t leave the dogs though, so it probably won’t be this weekend.” He’d stayed, because twice now Sloan had texted to tell him she was staying for a “couple of more days” and she’d “explain later.” Since he was watching the dogs, he needed to stay.
And he didn’t want to leave.
“And you’re good, right? I know Sloan is a sensitive topic, and I don’t want to step on your toes—”
“I’m fine,” Kyle said quickly.
He didn’t want to talk about it.
Not knowing whether he was coming or going was killing him. Sloan’s delays made it all so much worse. He’d closed the door to the guest room, unable to look at the smeared paint on the walls and every memory that went with it. That night, Sloan had seemed so . . . alive.
So free.
On the cusp of finally breaking out of the mess that had dragged her down so long ago. Then, right on cue, life had decided to rip her back into the tidal wave, with a new, horrible iteration of the devastation she’d already gone through before.
He’d tried to be there for her in any way he could, offering consolation from afar and giving her the distance she seemed to want by not letting him come with her.
What scared him, though, was that he’d been through this too. With her. And the last time she’d fallen apart because of something like this, she’d run.
Even though Evan had deserved it, she’d run from him, too. Hadn’t wanted to even talk to him.
Sloan liked to run when she was scared and hurt.
So, would she run from him—again—this time?
He pushed the thought away before it sank too deeply. He couldn’t unpack it. Didn’t want to.
“Looks like you have company,” Jeremy said, nudging him in the ribs.
The house was in view now, a familiar car in the driveway, but not the one he wanted to see. Elle’s minivan.
Elle was on the front steps, sitting. She straightened as she saw Kyle, her face perking up.
“You gonna come in?” Kyle asked him as they slowed.
“Nah, I’ll head on out. I need a shower.” Jeremy waved at Elle as he jogged to his car, parked on the street. “Hey, Elle! Congrats!”
Kyle turned toward her as Jeremy left. Things with Elle hadn’t been smooth lately, and he hated that. She’d called him to apologize a few days after they’d gone out with Jeremy and Anna, and that had helped.
But he still couldn’t get her words about Sloan out of his mind.
And it was startling to see her here, considering she was only two weeks postpartum.
“Hey,” he said, walking the last few feet toward her. “No baby?”
“Hey.” She didn’t look happy. “Yeah, no. I left him with Quinn and Liddy. I can’t stay long.”
Ah, shit. Am I in trouble?
He unlocked the door. “Want to come in?”
“Sure.” She leaned back on her hands, tilting her face into the sun. “Though it’s been nice in the quiet. Sometimes I just want to stand in the sun without someone calling my name, you know?”
“Can’t say I can relate to that,” he said, holding the door open for her as a cool wave of air-conditioning greeted him. She slipped past, and he grabbed a resistance band hanging off the knob of the coat closet as he went inside.
Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked up the steps as Sadie and Charlie started barking. He let them out of their crates, opened the door to the backyard for them, then grabbed a glass of water.
As he walked back toward Elle, he found her standing in the living room, gazing at the mismatched furniture and the half-painted walls. She frowned. “Is that your couch?”
He nodded, half tempted to goad the judgment he was certain he saw on her face. Temptation won. “You want some water? I’d offer something else, but Sloan’s the one who does most of the cooking and shopping, and I ran out of groceries a few days ago.”
Elle’s lips thinned to a line, and she glanced away, the struggle to bite her tongue clear on her face. “When does Sloan come back?”
“Not sure.” Kyle sat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Charlie wiggled in through the dog door then came inside, panting, and sat at Kyle’s feet. Kyle chugged his water. “Some time in the next few days probably.”
Her eyes shifted toward the loveseat. “Can I sit?”
“Sure.” He gave her a curious look, an edge of irritation building at the awkward way Elle was acting. “To what do I owe the visit?”
Elle cocked her head slightly. “Do you remember what yesterday was?”
He raised a brow. “Wednesday?”
“Mom’s birthday, Ky.” Her voice was a little flat, but not the lecturing tone Kyle expected.
Oh . . . fuck.
He winced. “I forgot.”
“Yeah, she noticed. Called me.” She leaned back, putting a pillow behind her lower back. “She’s not mad. Hurt, but that’s reasonable.” Elle clasped her hands. “But she is a little worried.”
Of course.
He didn’t answer, and Elle continued, “Kyle, I know I wasn’t the nicest and most supportive about everything with Sloan when she came back .
. . and honestly, I’m sorry. I really am.
Call me a protective older sister, but I worry about you.
We all worry about you in our own ways, because that’s what you do when you love someone and you see them spinning out in ways you don’t completely understand—”
“Spinning out?” He cocked a look at her. “Now my decision to be with Sloan is me spinning out?”
Elle flinched. Maybe because he’d implied that he and Sloan were in a relationship now—or maybe from the hardness of his tone.
“No,” she said softly. “It started long before Sloan came into your life again. Just . . . like you were trying to fill some hole by doing the next most dangerous thing. Taking risks that made us all uncomfortable. Granny even noticed it. And I’m not just misremembering a conversation.
She wrote a whole paragraph about you to me in her letter she left me in her will. ”
Kyle stiffened, holding his breath.
He’d been avoiding dealing with Granny almost as much as he’d been avoiding the back bedroom.
Elle reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded letter.
He felt heat prickling his neck. “You don’t have to read it to me—”
“I just want to read the part she wrote about you.” She unfolded it and then read in a low voice, “‘ Ellie girl, I have one favor to ask you. Take care of my Kyle for me. He’s been going through something lately, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about it the way I'd like. And maybe I will get to before you get this—but it would probably mean me having to go to Bora Bora or something. Ha! Wouldn’t that be grand? ’”
Kyle’s fingers tightened around the empty glass, and he stared down at it.
“‘ Sadly,’” Elle continued, “‘I think my health seems to be going downhill and a trip overseas might be out for the time being. But the truth is, Kyle’s a lot like Grandpoppy. And that man, he was perfect in all ways but one: he took too much on his shoulders. Most people don’t see that problem growing, except all that weight is like a sore on the soul that starts forming a callus.
And pretty soon, a callused soul goes numb and forgets a lot—to protect themselves, most especially.
So, help him to remember. Otherwise, I might have to come back and haunt you. ’”