Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
By the time we get home, I’m half convinced my muscles have liquified. Every step feels like betrayal. Despite all I’ve done in my life, the real enemy appears to be humidity, spandex and balance.
Ash unlocks the door, humming under her breath. She looks infuriatingly fine, invigorated even – a little flushed, but bright eyed. Meanwhile, I feel like someone wrung me out and then threw me on a lumpy rock to dry.
Annemarie tosses her bag on the couch and grins at me. “Well that was fun! Ready to sign up for the weekly class? Ooooh, who wants smoothies?!”
I groan and gingerly lower myself to the couch. “You’re a demon.”
“Thank you!” she sings, disappearing into the kitchen.
Ash turns toward me, smirking. “You really thought you were going to just breeze right through that, didn’t you?”
“I underestimated the enemy,” I admit, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ve fought in full armor under desert suns and it was less brutal.”
She laughs, the honest, unguarded sound hitting me dead center. I’d suffer through the damned yoga every day if I could keep her here, laughing and carefree.
“Just sit.” She orders.
“Already collapsed.” I let my head fall back, eyes closing.
A moment later, I feel movement beside me. When I crack an eye open, Ash is at my feet, tugging at my sneakers.
“What are you doing?”
“Being nice.” Her voice is breezy.
“I can handle my own shoes, witchling.”
“I know.” She yanks one off anyway, then the other, setting them neatly aside. “You don’t always have to. Besides,” she gives me a saucy wink, “I thought you liked me on my knees?”
“I do.” Even I can hear the growl in my voice. A blender whirls to life. Fuck. Annemarie is still here. So much for where my brain was headed, although I’m sure I’d find it much more relaxing than yoga.
“You were good today,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes. “You could have made fun of it, or refused, or even left halfway through, but you didn’t. You stayed.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you there.”
She looks up then, grinning. “You were dying.”
“Still not the worst death I’ve faced.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re trouble.”
Annemarie reappears with three smoothies — bright green, suspiciously healthy looking. She hands me one and smiles deviously. “Drink up, soldier boy. Rehydrate or die.”
I take a sip and grimace. “This is what I imagine lawn clippings taste like.”
Casie sips hers daintily. “It’s kale and mango.”
“It’s betrayal.” I counter, which makes her laugh; head tossed back, hair spilling down her shoulders from where she freed it after class. She’s so beautiful that for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Annemarie apparently catches the look on my face because she smirks knowingly before chugging the rest of her sludge. “Okay, I’m going to get out of here before Flint rallies himself and kills me.” She snags her bag from where it lies next to me, blows a kiss to Ash and sails out the door.
The apartment is quiet without her buzzing energy. Ash curls her legs up, sitting close to me in a comfortable silence as we sip the world’s worst smoothies.
Finally, she murmurs “You didn’t have to do that today.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you needed the break, the reset. If this gave you one — heat stroke and all — then it was worth it.”
Her eyes soften. “You always say things like that and then act like they don’t mean anything.”
“Maybe they mean everything and that’s why I keep them quiet.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then reaches out, tracing the edge of my hand where it rests on my knee. Her fingers are cool against my overheated skin.
“I hate how you do that.” She whispers.
“Do what?”
“Make me feel seen.”
I smile faintly. “Someone should.”
Her lips curve, sad and sweet. “You really were terrible at yoga.”
“Truly abysmal.”
“But you’re good at this.” She nods at the space between us. “At showing up.”
The words settle deep. If she only knew. I can’t tell if it’s the heat still in my veins or her voice wrapping around my chest, but I feel something inside me unclench.