19. #3
The treadmill started at a steady pace, the low hum of the machine filling the quiet as I stepped onto it. For a few minutes, neither of us spoke. Just the rhythm of our footsteps, the sound of movement, the steady build of something physical that required focus.
It helped.
At first.
The repetition.
The control.
The way my body had something to do other than think.
But it didn't last.
Because my mind kept drifting back anyway.
To the way he said her name.
To the fact that he hadn't mentioned California.
To the way I had started wondering about things I had no business wondering about.
I increased the speed slightly.
Then again.
Like I could outrun it.
Beside me, Grant adjusted his own pace to match, not saying anything, but aware enough to keep up without making it obvious.
Sweat started to gather at the back of my neck, my breathing picking up as the rhythm shifted from comfortable to demanding.
Still not enough.
I focused on the sound of my feet hitting the belt. The steady, repetitive thud grounding me in something real.
Not thoughts.
Not feelings.
Just movement.
Time passed without me tracking it.
Eventually, the timer on the screen started counting down.
Cooldown.
The pace slowed gradually, forcing my body to follow, even when my mind still felt like it was running.
Our steps fell back into sync as the machine eased to a stop, both of us catching our breath in the quiet that followed.
I reached for my water bottle, taking a longer sip than necessary, letting the coolness settle something in my chest.
Grant did the same, glancing over at me briefly.
"You okay?"
The question came easier this time.
Lighter.
But I still felt it.
"I'm fine," I said, quieter now.
Not as convincing.
He didn't push.
Just nodded, setting his bottle down before resting his hands on his hips, his chest still rising steadily from the run.
"We've got a few hours," he said after a moment. "It's only six. We can shower, I can make something, or we can go out for a bit. Whatever you want."
I looked at him then.
Really looked.
The way his hair had fallen slightly out of place, the sheen of sweat across his skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing as he came down from the run.
He looked real like this.
Unfiltered.
And for a second, the thought came again—
Why would I think this could be anything but temporary?
My gaze dropped before I could sit in it too long.
"I should probably go."
The words came out softer than I expected.
But once they were out—
They stayed.
He straightened slightly, like he wasn't sure he'd heard me right.
"I thought you were staying a little longer."
"I was," I said, my voice trailing off before I could finish the thought. "I just—"
I didn't.
Didn't know how to explain it without making it sound like something it wasn't. Or maybe exactly like what it was.
The silence stretched just long enough to make it noticeable.
Grant nodded once, slow, processing.
"If you feel more comfortable leaving," he said, his tone even, careful, "that's fine."
There was no push behind it. No pressure. Just an opening, left entirely up to me.
And somehow that made it worse.
I nodded, even though it didn't feel like an answer.
We moved toward the door without saying much after that. The house felt quieter now, the kind of quiet that followed something unfinished. My bag was still where I'd left it two days ago, keys tucked beside it like nothing had shifted in between.
Grant reached the door first, pulling it open before stepping slightly to the side to let me pass.
For a second, neither of us moved.
It wasn't awkward, but still weird.
Like we were both waiting for something neither of us was saying.
"Well, I—" I started, the words falling apart before they could land.
He didn't fill it in for me.
Just watched me, something unreadable sitting behind his expression.
Then, after a second, he opened his arms.
It was simple.
Not forced.
I stepped into him without thinking, my hands settling lightly against his back as he pulled me in, his hold firm but not tight.
"You take care, Naomi," he said quietly.
I nodded against him.
"I will."
He let go first.
And just like that, the space between us came back.
I turned toward my car, the gravel shifting softly under my shoes as I walked, each step feeling a little heavier than it should have. I didn't rush, but I didn't slow down either.
When I reached the door, I paused.
Something pulled at me just enough to turn back.
He was still standing there.
Right where I left him.
One hand resting against the doorframe, the other lifting slightly when he saw me look.
I gave him a small smile—something soft, something that could pass as real if you didn't look too closely—before turning back toward the car and sliding inside.
The door shut with a quiet finality that felt louder than it should've.
For a second, I just sat there, my hands resting loosely in my lap, the engine still off, the world outside the windshield slightly blurred.
I didn't move.
Didn't reach for the keys.
Didn't look back again.
Because I already knew if I did, he'd still be there.
And I didn't trust myself not to go back.
The thought settled in slowly, uncomfortable in the way truth usually is.
Nothing had actually gone wrong.
He hadn't pushed me away.
He hadn't said anything that should've made me leave.
If anything, he'd done the opposite—made it easy to stay.
And still—
I left anyway.
My grip tightened slightly against my thigh as I exhaled, the realization sitting heavier the longer I let it.
Because it didn't feel like a decision I fully made.
It felt like something automatic.
Instinct.
Like my body had stepped in before my mind could catch up, choosing distance before anything had the chance to become... something else.
Something real.
My eyes dropped to my hands, unfocused.
And that was the part that unsettled me the most.
Because somewhere between last night and this morning—
Something had shifted.
Not just in him.
In me.
I wasn't just comfortable around him anymore.
I wasn't just passing time.
The thought of leaving hadn't felt like ending something small.
It had felt like walking away from something that could've been... more.
And I didn't know when that had happened.
Or how.
Or what that meant for him.
My chest tightened slightly at that.
Because for the first time, I realized I had no idea how he saw me.
If this—whatever we were doing—meant anything beyond what it was right now.
Or if, to him, this was just temporary.
Something easy.
Something that fit into his life without changing it.
While I—
I swallowed, my jaw tightening slightly.
I already knew I didn't want that.
Didn't want him to just be something temporary.
Didn't want this to be something I looked back on like it didn't matter.
That certainty settled in a way everything else hadn't.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Even if everything around it was still complicated.
Even if I didn't know what I was doing yet.
Even if I was still tied to a life I hadn't figured out how to leave.
Him—
That part, at least, didn't feel uncertain.
Which only made the rest of it worse.
My grip tightened slightly against my leg as I exhaled again, slower this time.
Did I just sabotage that?
The question lingered, unanswered, pressing quietly at the edges of everything I wasn't ready to say out loud.
I pushed it down anyway.
Like I always did.
Then finally, I reached for the keys.