Page 76 of Past Tents

At the mention of Ally, my heart sank. “Is she? Okay?” The sandpaper in my voice made me stand and stagger to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“She’s upset, understandably. But she gets what’s going on with you. She’s smart that way,” Jefferson said. “By the way, congrats on finally making a move on my sister. Took you long enough.”

I returned to the room to find him half grinning, half grimacing. “How long have you known?” I asked as I got back under my blanket.

“How long have I known you had a thing for her? I dunno, fifteen years? How long have I known about the two of you...Well, I saw you that night at Genie’s, remember? It was pretty obvious.”

“I like to think I have a poker face.”

“Yeah, you fucking don’t,” Shane said.

I refused to move out from under the blanket except to take another sip of my water. Somehow the two cups of coffee hadn’t made me feel more awake. Just more morose.

Yeah, pretty sure it was more than two cups. Then, late at night, an attempt to sleep, feeling terrible about myself, more fitful sleep, more coffee. I’d lost count, but somewhere along the way, day had turned to night and that had predictably turned to day again. Not that I could tell much with the shades drawn.

No sooner had I put the glass on the table did Jefferson move it aside, just out of my reach. “Here. Drink this instead.” He yanked a bottle of orange juice from his pocket and handed it to me.

“You’re a magician now, Jeff?” I grumbled.

“No, I’m your friend, and you’re an asshole.”

I threw an arm over my eyes, blocking him out. “Correct. Now that we all agree, can you please leave and let me wallow in peace? I know I fucked up. I just needed to figure out what to do about it, and I haven’t sorted myself out yet.” I was exhausted.

I heard Shane grab handfuls of fast-food wrappers and crumple them into a ball. The smell of grease and sauce made me sick to my stomach.

“Stop that,” I ordered. The room went silent. For a moment, I wondered if Shane was still here. Then I heard the sound of him pulling the blinds open a crack. When I chanced a peek through heavy-lidded eyes, the room was light enough for me to see Shane, but not much else.

Shane plunked his solid frame into a chair opposite the couch, crossed one foot over his knee, and sipped his coffee while he assessed me. “You look like a therapist. I don’t need a therapist,” I said.

“Debatable. And you need me.”

Jerking my hand up with the open juice bottle in it, I spilled a good amount of juice over the side. Great, now I’d have to clean the carpet. “That was your fault.”

“For making you drink coffee until you were jittery?”

“For coming here. For existing, basically.”

I glared at him because he was annoying the shit out of me, looking well-rested and pleased with himself. And why did he need to look so damned perky? “Why are you so damned perky?” I demanded.

“Went for a long run this morning. Something you oughtta do.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Seriously, you’ll feel better and then we can talk.”

I slumped back on the couch, dipping into a shadow that I hoped would camouflage me completely. Maybe Shane would think I disappeared and go find another errand to do. Or another soul to save. I was beyond salvation.

It didn’t occur to me to wonder why Shane was the only one in the room talking to me until Jefferson showed up again with my running shoes in his hand. At least I think they were mine. I couldn’t take the two of them moving around so much. The fatigue was real, and they were making it worse.

“Here. Put these on and let’s go do some speed drills,” Jefferson said.

Exhaling an aggravated sigh, I pulled the blanket fully over my head. That only magnified the scent of Ally’s shampoo and made me feel sadder, so I threw the blanket on the ground. I squinted at the two men tag-teaming me in my living room and assessed whether there was any chance they’d go away if I didn’t do what they wanted.

The odds were down near zero, since each of them was easily as stubborn as me, and I didn’t have the stamina to out-stubborn them.

“Fine. I’ll run. But we’re not talking.”

Jefferson held out his hands like a minister. “Fine. Wear your headphones, I don’t care. Just get moving.”

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