Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beck
I’m not ready to see Sloan yet, so I hesitate to open the bedroom door.
While I understand that she was triggered, I don’t appreciate being yelled at or to be viewed so negatively by someone, especially when all I was trying to do was help.
Sloan should know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t try to intentionally control her diet.
The kitchen and living room are spotless when I pad into the area. It’s an open floor plan so you can see everything except the bedrooms.
Even though it’s Sutton’s place, Sloan has left little touches lingering around. A few extra books that look like thrillers sit perfectly stacked on the edge of the coffee table. A contrast to all of Sut’s romance novels in a perfect rainbow on her bookshelf.
Her baby blue crocheted blanket lies over top of Sutton’s lavender throw on the back of the sofa. The throw Sloan had us tucked under on the couch last night before our argument.
I wonder if that’s her favorite color. I meant to ask her because it’s mine, too.
A few potted plants sit on the windowsill and on the kitchen island. Sut used to struggle to keep plants alive, though she always tried.
Sloan’s bedroom door is still shut, so I throw on my running shoes and quietly leave.
“You look like you’re doing the walk of shame,” Quinn laughs, startling the hell out of me, when I walk through the door of the café.
“Yeah, no, get that idea out of your head,” I grumble.
“Oh, come on. Sloan’s beautiful.”
“Sloan is beautiful, but I literally love your best friend. Are you really that okay with me just moving on that quickly?”
“Did you just hear what you said? You love my best friend. Not you’re in love with my best friend.
I love my best friend too. And not to dig the dagger in further but our best friend is traveling the world with her boyfriend.
The man that she is in love with and who is in love with her.
So honestly, yes, I would love it if you moved on. ”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.” I side-eye her.
“We knew that already!” Quinn grins manically.
I roll my eyes, laughing at her being outrageous.
“But seriously, Beck, I love all of you. You all deserve to be happy. I actually think you and Sloan could be great together. That is if she can work through some of her issues and if you can work through some of yours,” Quinn says, shrugging her shoulders.
“What do I need to work through?”
Quinn looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Um…your temper for one? Not fighting people outside of your job. You are kind of a control freak. You definitely have some daddy issues like abandonment, maybe some mommy issues too,” she says, tapping her chin like she’s trying to think of more things to add to the list.
“Okay. I get it, Q,” I sigh, running my hands through my hair.
“Here’s your shake and your cold brew.” Quinn hands me my daily favorites without me having to ask.
“Thank you,” I reply, attempting to smile.
“So should I make Sloan work today to give you space or…?”
“She told you?” I ask, surprised.
“The CliffsNotes”—Quinn shrugs—“I tried to tell her that you weren’t her ex and I think she knows that too.
But we don’t know how dark her past is so we can’t hold it against her.
Maybe she hasn’t really had time to get out of survival mode and work on her triggers.
Try setting some boundaries and be there for her.
Sloan has a good heart, but I think she had a bad man really fuck with it. ”
“Thank you.” I pull Quinn into a side hug.
“Get out of here, big boy. Too much affection for me.” Quinn smacks me on the ass and shoves me toward the door.
I laugh at her antics. “Later, Q. You can let Sloan know I’m at the gym.”
Quinn blows me a kiss. “I’ll give our girl the choice.”
An hour later while I’m spotting one of our younger athletes on bench press, Sloan walks in.
She’s hiding in a giant gray sweatshirt that comes down to her knees but her snug black leggings still show off her lean legs.
When Sloan notices me, she heads over toward the gym equipment.
“Hey,” Sloan whispers, wringing her hands in the sleeves, keeping her eyes on the ground.
A sweatshirt that stops me dead in my tracks, because it has my old high school wrestling logo on it.
“Why are you wearing my shirt?” I question her, irritation in my voice.
“What?” Sloan squeaks.
“That one. It’s mine from high school,” I state a bit more firmly than necessary, walking up and tapping on the logo.
“Um…I didn’t know that? Sutton left it behind and said I could wear any of her clothes so I didn’t have to buy any. I-I-I d-didn’t know,” Sloan stutters.
“She… Sut left it behind,” I say almost above a whisper.
“Beck. I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was yours. I just grabbed it from her pile she left folded in the laundry room. I really had no idea,” Sloan says, gently wrapping her fingers around my forearm.
My ears are ringing, I can barely make out what Sloan’s saying. My vision is tunneling, knowing that I’ve been left behind.
“Beck.” Sloan squeezes my arm a little tighter and starts rubbing small circles on my lower back with her other hand.
“Beck. Look at me,” Sloan demands, snapping me out of my spiral.
My blue eyes meet her lilac ones and I think we can feel the pain oozing off of each other in waves. Sloan wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes me into a hug, digging her nails into the skin of my lower back.
I pull her tighter into my chest and rest my head on the top of hers, just breathing her in. She smells nothing like Sutton, more florally. Sutton always smelled more like vanilla or coconut. The scraping of her nails on my skin, keeps bringing me back to the present moment, almost grounding me.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I promise to be better about not lashing out. I know you were only looking out for me. I’d like to sit down and talk to Ash,” Sloan says softly, continuously rubbing small circles into my back.
“I’m sorry I just freaked out about my sweatshirt. It just threw me off. I gave that to Sut years ago. It’s just weird seeing someone other than her in it,” I offer honestly.
“I understand. I’d take it off but I only have a sports bra on, and I’m not comfortable…” Sloan starts to say.
“It’s okay, Little Dove. You can keep it.” I run my fingers through her hair.
I feel her sigh into me a little deeper as she says, “Thank you.”
Sloan definitely likes having her hair played with. Or maybe she needs these hugs as much as I do.
“So, what’s on the schedule today? Lifting? Running? Yoga? Shadow boxing?” Sloan asks, perking up a bit. Trying to break some of the tension in the room.
“Have you done any lifting before?”
“Not much. I was more of a Pilates and dance class kind of gal.” Sloan smiles sheepishly.
“I can definitely see that. We’ll start out light then.
See what you’re most comfortable with. I like to do lower weight, higher reps for women.
I tend to lift a bit heavier myself personally but will keep it a little lighter so I’m not straining.
I do recommend going a little heavier for glutes and quads though for you, if you’re up for it,” I suggest enthusiastically, excited to start working with her.
I strive to always be at my peak performance. It’s a passion of mine to help coach others to reach their own max potential as well. It’s empowering, watching them challenge themselves and succeed. I push them to their limits until they can overcome it.
I’ll be forever grateful to the coaches I had in college and undergrad. So, I pride myself on being a good role model for our trainees.
My goal is to push Sloan to her limits. Even if she hates me at first.
I’m not sure the type of person Sloan is running from but with how terrified she’s been and what she’s told me, I don’t want to take any chances.
My goal is to make sure she’s confident in her own strength.
That Sloan could look at a man my size or Asher’s and know with absolute confidence she has a chance to fight her way out of a bad situation.
With physical strength and discipline comes mental fortitude.
If the time comes that Sloan has to face her monster head on.
I will make sure she is ready, mind and body.
“You’re the boss. I’m the student. Let’s get started, coach.” Sloan winks at me.
The way Sloan’s staring at me like she’s putting her trust in me, playful, with her guard down, has the ice around my heart melting just the slightest bit. The disappointment from Sutton leaving my sweatshirt like she left me behind is not as bad now.
Sloan’s stronger than she realizes. And stronger than she looks for being so petite.
I had her warm up on the treadmill for twenty minutes and then go straight into a chest and quad circuit. Benching 65 pounds and squatting 85 pounds. I was pretty impressed with Sloan, this being her first time lifting.
We ran through some jump rope exercises, pushups, jumping jacks, high knees and planks. No breaks, one exercise after the other, and she killed it.
Her balance might even be better than mine. Must be all of that Pilates she’s used to.
Walking over to the pull-up bars, I hop on and just hang there for a minute, dangling from the bar.
“I’m gonna pass on that one, Beck. I couldn’t even do pull-ups in high school when they used to test us. Always failed that one. Continuous A- in gym class.” Sloan laughs, taking a sip of her water.
“Ah, but I have a trick, Little Dove. Come here.” I drop one arm and crook my finger for her to come here, dangling from the other.
“Show off,” Sloan teases, walking over to me.
Pulling up with one arm, to do a one-handed pull-up, I wink at her. “That’s showing off.”
Sloan giggles. And it’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard. It almost steals my breath.
Reaching back up, holding on to the bar with both hands, “Hop up,” I say, staring at her in a childlike wonder.
“Pardon?” Sloan chokes out.
“Hop on to me like you would if I was giving you a piggyback ride. Except on the front,” I smirk at her.