Chapter 6
SIX
So maybe Mr. Medic’s not so bad after all .
They were back on the bus after the hike, a pretty uneventful one after the Battle of the Moose—but then again, how could you top that? The deer, rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks were pretty cute though, and the homemade cookies Stephanie brought along couldn’t be beat. Waylon’s scowl was gone and Frankie’s suspicions had been correct—he was even more gorgeous when he smiled. And that laugh, when she finally pulled one out of him, felt almost familiar. Welcoming was the word in her head describing it, which was so odd. Welcoming her to what exactly?
Too bad he pities you .
Ever since her freakout over the splinter, Waylon watched her like she might fall over and break if the wind blew too hard. Frankie wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the look of disgust he’d given her at first. She was probably lucky he didn’t look at her like she was crazy. Her medical team had drilled it into her head to watch for infection from any cut or scratch but she’d never reacted that way. She thought after her treatment ended, she could go back to her ‘normal’ life. What was this, PTSD ?
You’re never gonna make it down the block, let alone to Iceland if you’re going to jump at every little issue .
The van hummed steadily as it wound its way back toward town, the voices of the Adventure Buddies blending into a comfortable murmur. Frankie sat by the window again, stealing glances at Waylon from the corner of her eye.
He sat a little sideways in his seat, one arm draped casually over the back of the bench. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated his profile. He had the most annoyingly perfect jawline covered in dark scruff. Her fingertips prickled at the thought of running her fingers over it.
He caught her looking and raised an eyebrow, flashing her a grin that was unfairly charming before looking away again.
Frankie sighed. “Hey,” she said, leaning slightly toward him. Her voice was low, so as not to draw the attention of the others. “Can we talk?”
Waylon straightened, clearly surprised by her serious tone. “Okay,” he said, turning to face her fully. “What’s up?”
Frankie hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. “Look, I know you mean well. And I appreciate that you helped me back there with the splinter. But…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.
“But?” Waylon prompted, his tone careful.
“But I don’t need a babysitter,” Frankie said, her voice firm but not harsh. “I’m not fragile, and I don’t want you looking at me like I’m about to crumble.”
Waylon’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not—” He paused, clearly rethinking whatever he was about to say. “Okay, maybe I am a little. But it’s not because I think you’re fragile.”
That took her by surprise.
“Then why?” she asked. “You didn’t look at me like that until you figured out I’m… Well, you know.”
Waylon’s mouth opened, then closed again as he leaned back against the seat. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to Stephanie before returning to her.
“You’re right. I put two and two together, much later than I should have.” He studied her face, his gaze drifting to the beanie. “You have cancer.”
Even though she was sure he didn’t mean to hurt her, the words felt like a slap.
“Had. I had cancer. I’m not a patient anymore. I’m post-treatment. My last dose of chemo was months ago, and my follow-up tests show no signs of it.” She realized she was being defensive when she heard her mother’s voice chastising her.
Very unladylike, Francesca .
Frankie softened her tone. “I don’t want to be treated differently from anyone else. I’m here to live my life, not have people tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass.” She took a deep breath. “If you’re going to do that, this won’t work.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. “I mean, as long as you stay with the group. I know Steve’s looking for your replacement.” She shrugged. “She may find one by next Saturday and it won’t matter.”
Waylon looked surprised as he studied her. “So, you’re not quitting after today?”
He thinks you can’t cut it.
“Maybe I should.”
Waylon’s eyes widened, hurt flashing through them and disappearing so quickly Frankie thought maybe she imagined it. The scowl came back.
“Whatever,” he said as he shrugged, then crossed his arms and stared forward.
That hurt, too. Then hurt turned to anger.
“You know what? I’m not quitting. I enjoyed today, believe it or not. And I need to build my endurance back up.”
He gave her the side-eye, one brow raised.
“You don’t think I can?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Frankie crossed her arms. “Nope, I’m coming back next week. Besides, I don’t want to hurt Steve’s feelings.”
“ Steve’s feelings.” He shook his head then turned to look her in the eye. “Well, I don’t want to hurt her feelings, either. And I promised that I’d do this until she found a replacement. So, I’m stuck no matter what.”
Stuck, huh? So much for thinking he’s not so bad. “Fine. I guess we’ll see if we survive another adventure next week.”
“I guess we will.”
“Great.”
“Great. Fantastic.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way.
About a block away from the rec center, Stephanie’s voice rang out. “All right, listen up, everyone. We’re not taking the bus next week because the rec center needs it, which is fine, since we can’t drive directly to our next adventure anyway.”
Whew. At least I won’t have to endure the silent treatment again .
“So here’s the plan,” Stephanie continued. “We’ll meet up in Idaho Springs. If you’ve been up there before, you know parking is practically non-existent this time of year. So, in the spirit of Buddyhood, as well as keeping things green, I want each of you to decide which Buddy is driving and ride up together.”
Frankie’s eyes widened as her stomach sank. Glancing at Waylon, he looked about as happy as she felt.
Before she could open her mouth, he said. “There is no discussion. I’m driving.”
“Fine.”
“You aren’t going to argue?”
“Nope.” She pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook, jotted down her address, tore out the page, and thrust it at him.
Stephanie pulled into the rec center parking lot. “Don’t forget to hydrate and stretch. Next week’s going to be a lot more challenging. Wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts, shoes with good grips, and,” she paused, “Bring a swimsuit. I’ve got a nice treat planned for after. ”
A swimsuit? Frankie swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. This just keeps getting worse. She sank down into her coat while everyone else talked excitedly. Except of course for Waylon. He looked like Stephanie just announced they’d be diving into a pit of snakes and broken glass.
Great. One more thing we see eye to eye on .
The second the bus came to a stop, Waylon shot out the door without looking back.
Stop worrying. It shouldn’t matter. Frankie thought as she parked at the rec center on Monday morning. This was her first time back since Saturday, and she dreaded seeing Waylon there. What if he worked out before going to the hospital, or it was his day off and he was a gym rat? She wouldn’t be surprised—Waylon was in amazing shape. Fighting fit.
An image of Waylon in his pec-hugging race shirt popped unwanted into her head.
But now that the vision is here, there’s no reason why I can’t enjoy it for a second .
Grinning to herself, Frankie slung her gym bag over one shoulder and headed into the rec center.
“Hey, Frank! Whatcha doing here? It’s not Saturday yet,” Stephanie called from her desk.
“What? I’m not allowed to come in otherwise, Steve?” Frankie shouted back as she walked toward the receptionist area. Stephanie wasn’t alone. Two very good-looking men stood beside the counter, watching Frankie as she approached—a gorgeous blond and a handsome brunette.
Not as attractive as Waylon, she thought like a reflex.
Hush! He doesn’t like you. And you don’t like him, remember?
The dark-haired man stepped forward. “So you’re the notorious Frank.” He held out his hand to shake. “I’m Gabe, one of the managers here. Good to meet you.”
“Notorious?” Frankie looked at Stephanie as she shook Gabe’s hand. “What has Steve been telling you?”
Stephanie placed her hand over her heart. “All I said was that you used to be a regular here and that you were kind enough to be Waylon’s partner.”
Frankie snorted. “Well, someone has to do it, I guess.”
The blond laughed. His bright blue eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “My sympathies.”
“Oh, you’ve met him?” Frankie asked, surprised. Shoot, maybe he is a gym rat . She fought to keep from looking around, as if Waylon might jump out from behind a pillar.
“You could say that.” The blond held out his hand. “I’m Elias. Good to meet you, Frank.”
Stephanie frowned. “Hey, I’m the only who gets to call her that, right Frank?”
“Whatever you say, Steve.” She turned her attention back to Elias. “I guess I’m Frankie to you.”
Elias chuckled. “Stephanie’s orders.”
Stephanie gave Elias a stern look with very little malice in it, then asked Frankie, “You here to work out on your own or are you in a class?”
“Oh. Well, I…didn’t think about it.”
Gabe squinted. “Sorry.” He pointed at one of the speakers in the ceiling. “I have trouble hearing when the music’s loud. Did you say you want to be in a class?”
Did she want to be in one? “I haven’t signed up for anything today.”
“Oh, would you look at that,” Stephanie said as she read something on her monitor. “There’s one opening left in the next Jazzercise class. Starts in about ten minutes. You in, Frank?”
“Do I have to partner up with anyone?” She winked at Elias .
He chuckled again and said, “Actually, my wife is in that class.” He shoulder-checked Gabe. “His, too.”
Frankie’s eyebrows rose. “I’d like to meet them,” she said before a little voice in her head could stop her—the voice that told her not to get close, that people were undependable.
“Wren and Rochelle,” Elias said. “They’re…” he looked around, “somewhere…”
Gabe watched Elias. “If you’re wondering where they are, they’re in the bathroom.” He looked at Frankie. “My wife’s name is Rochelle and his is Wren.”
“Thank you.” Frankie nodded, a little confused as to why Gabe repeated their names. He really must be hard of hearing .
“Here they come.” Elias pointed down the hall at two women walking toward them, laughing about something. They looked friendly. Would they like her?
I never used to be this insecure , Frankie thought. But that was in the Before Times .
Before the diagnosis. Before they removed a part of her body that had viciously turned on her. Before she found out who her friends were, and who they were not.
She smiled at the women, feeling shy and suddenly self-conscious. The women returned her smile. Then, they gave each other a quick look that said they knew something Frankie didn’t, which added to her insecurity.
“Hi there,” the taller of the two said when they reached her. Elias put his arm around her, which told Frankie this was Wren. Gabe lifted his hands and he signed something to Rochelle, who grinned and signed something back.
“Ladies,” Stephanie said, “This is my dear friend, Frank ie ,” she emphasized the last syllable of her name, “and she’ll be joining you at Jazzercise.”
“Awesome!” Rochelle said, giving Wren another knowing look before she and Wren introduced themselves .
“Better get a move on.” Stephanie made shooing motions. “You’re gonna be late otherwise.”