Page 13 of Fight for Forever

Joey doesn’t go easy. He pushes me to where he believes I can get, even when I’m struggling. When it gets like that, he encourages me, motivates me, making me believe I can do anything.

When he’s set me up on a machine or doing some rope jumps, he starts on his own workout. A couple of times he’s caught me staring, but he never says anything, even though I’m sure he sees me blush.

Raw power radiates from him, but his movements are surprisingly graceful. The fluidity of how he works around me or beside me belies the powerful muscles of his body. Yet I’ve never felt anxious, intimidated, or scared of being alone with him.

He always wears workout tops or t-shirts when we’re at his place, not like in the gym when he’s only wearing shorts andnothing else. Which is a huge shame, because I’m not spending any time there, so don’t get to see it like I used to.

The few times he’s caught me looking are nothing compared to the number of times he hasn’t. There is something magnetic about Joey Ferguson. I was attracted to him before my life in New York turned to shit.

Even though it terrifies me, that attraction is surging again. And I’m trying to fight it, but it’s becoming increasingly harder. I will never act on it. Joey has shown no signs of wanting to take things in that direction. Plus, I’m not ready. I’m not sure I will be for a while. He is always conscious of not touching me when we train, or rather sweetly, he asks me first if he needs to adjust a stance or assist with some of the equipment.

The first time he did that, I’d been stunned but grateful.

I’m disappointed to get a text from Joey when I am halfway through getting ready for our morning run, apologising that he can’t make it today. I look forward to our runs. It’s the only time we don’t talk, but running alongside him re-sets my mind.

He told me from the start running has mental benefits, as well as physical. He went into some science behind cognitive function and improved blood flow to the brain, and the release of endorphins that trigger the happy hormone, reducing stress and anxiety. But I prefer the simpler explanations. I have been a lot calmer since we started running, and I’ve slept better too.

All things he told me would happen on that very first run.

I still have nightmares. That is not going to go away. I’m trapped behind a glass wall watching Michael hurt Jenna, and I can’t do anything to stop him.

Sometimes I dream of the sound of the gun firing. The smell of the gunpowder and feel of the weapon jumping in my hand seem so real. But the truth is, after the first bullet hit him, I closed my eyes. I didn’t see him hit the floor.

I moved apartments after the court case, never going back to the old one. Jenna and Brooke got all of my belongings for me,and Brooke helped me find the new apartment after putting me up in her place for a few days. She’s a good friend, both her and Jenna have been amazing to me throughout this whole mess.

There is no explanation about why Joey can’t make the run. It isn’t like him. I stare at the words for a long time. Is it wrong to message and ask if he is okay, or do I just say no problem and let it lie?

I can go running alone. I just don’t want to.

After an agonising and ridiculous amount of time after his text, I decide to stop being so afraid and just ask what I want to ask. It’s another thing I’ve been working on. Understanding that it is okay for me to ask for and seek the things I enjoy, to not be afraid of doing those things, because there are no consequences. The only person I answer to now is me. And I want to know if he is okay.

I draft out a message. ‘No problem. Thank you for letting me know. I might still go on my own.’

“Come on, Meg. Be more assertive,” I groan out, deleting that message.

I try again and this time hit send before I can second guess myself.

MEGAN

I’m sorry to hear that. Hope everything is okay? I’ll go anyway. I hate to miss it.

I set the phone down and grab my sneakers. I’ll only pace and watch the phone if I don’t keep my body occupied. Instead of worrying about him responding, I plan the route I’m going to run in my head. When I am at Joey’s place in Brooklyn, we run around Prospect Park.

Joey has made the effort to come across and run close to my place. I think he is doing it so I’m comfortable in my neighborhood.

Despite the disappointment at not running with him today, I am confident enough to go alone. I never run in the park alone, sticking to the busier streets, as Joey instructed.

JOEY

Good job Meg, you need to stick to the routine. I’ve been under the weather for the last few days, running won’t do me much good today. I’ll be fine for our session on Wednesday. Make sure you record your times and hydrate.

I can’t help but smile at the instructions, but it’s replaced by concern. He’s sick? Joey is not the kind of person who slacks off, so if he must cancel a run, it is more than just being ‘under the weather’.

He doesn’t have any close family and I doubt he is going to call his friends if he needs anything while he’s not feeling a hundred percent.

I bite down on my thumb nail. If I ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell me he is okay, but what if he isn’t? What if he just needs some TLC, but he has never asked anyone before?

He’s doing so much for me. The least I can do is offer something in return. There is an amazing deli near the subway that makes chicken noodle soup that is to die for. My grandma used to make me soup when I didn’t feel too good. Is it overstepping if I do the same for him?

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