Page 4 of Unbroken Promises

With a huff, I can’t help but grumble, “fucking Finn” before responding once more.

Me: Truly, everything is all good here. If you are referring to the little present that I found this morning, it was no different than any of the other ones. Jay is handling it, and the rest of my day has been fine.

Boss Man: There’s that word again

Me: What? Fine?

Boss Man: You see. . . when a woman says she’s “fine,” I have learned that it means she’s anything but.

Boss Man: Do you need me to come out there? Maybe just for a quick visit?

Me: You can stop acting like an overprotective helicopter mom. Seriously, I am fine and I mean fine. You know I always love when you come to see me but you are a busy boss man now and don’t need to take time out of your crazy schedule to fly across the country and babysit your little sister.

Me: For real. I’m good. Now let me get back to my practice in peace.

Me: What are you even still doing up, anyway? It’s like one A.M. over there. And you worry about me taking care of myself *insert eye roll*

Boss Man: Be good. Love you.

Me: *heart emoji*

Once thoroughly stretched out, I switch to a more upbeat tune using the app synced with my smart watch while heading over to the uneven bars. I close my eyes as I fall naturally into my rhythm, letting the music wash over me, releasing the exhaustion and tension from the day with each passing beat, keeping time to my various moves and rotations around the room. At the end of it all, the playlist reaches its crescendo just as I am hitting the mat for my final floor routine. Pushing through the exhaustion, I hit the mat running hard, pushing my legs, arms pumping as I dive into the complicated layout.

Feet solidly in place on the mat, I stick the landing just as the song comes to its close. I take a minute to try and catch my breath before walking over to the wall, grabbing my towel to wipe away the sweat dripping down my brow and the back of my neck before greedily gulping down my water. Groaning tiredly, I once again make my way onto the mat for my cool-down stretches. My post-work private session is one that I look forward to and tend to do at least five days a week; but with the 2 a.m. wake-up call from Sierra this morning, followed by my abrupt wake-up call a short-time later, and another “gift” left for me on my doorstep that I didn’t see until I was getting ready for the day, my body is dragging much more than usual as exhaustion pulls at me.

Normally, after a night of pushing myself so hard, I would shower in the private bathroom attached to my office upstairs before heading home, but I just don’t have the energy tonight. At this point, I think I am gonna have to call it a night, and head home. I’m not even sure I will be able to manage choking down the sad plate of food I have prepped in the fridge for a late dinner.

With a heavy sigh, I bend down to grab my things, before shutting off the lights and closing the gym. With a quick jog upstairs, I grab my crossbody bag, opening the back zipper pocket to double-check the contents is still inside. Shouldering it, I reach across my desk to grab my keys which are resting next to the framed picture. My eyes flicker to the image before quickly glancing away, heart heavy as I turn to leave the room.

Before pulling up the app on my phone, I quickly shoot a text to Jonathan, letting him know I am headed home, setting the alarm on my way out the building. Finn hooked me up with the latest and greatest by way of security technology at a killer price when I was finally able to purchase the building (meaning, of course, he insisted on hooking it up for free, despite my protests.) Ridiculous really, but I love him so I let it slide.

Having a best friend who owns one of the top security firms in the country has its advantages from time to time, I guess. Standing under the warm glow of the security flood lights that illuminate the back half of the building, I glance around at the darkness beyond its edges. It’s late out, the center hosts its last classes at 7pm and most of the staff finish up sometime around eight. My phone lights up with a notification.

J: All clear.

I am always the last to leave, usually pushing to get in a good routine before I head out each night. My timing varies depending on what I am in the mood for working on, but in this case, it means that tonight I am not leaving until almost eleven. Later than I should have stayed, but I had a restless energy today that needed to be burned off if I wanted any chance of getting sleep when I go home. My nightmares have lessened with the passing of time, just as they have shifted in content over the years. Where once, I was filled with terrifying memories from my past, now I am haunted by the “presents” that keep showing up for me in random places and by images of my hooded ghost that I can’t seem to shake.

His presence surrounds me in this city, images of his face plastered on billboards and popping up in commercials. After he left me for the second time, when everything fell apart, I wasn’t sure how I would put the pieces back together. Like the masochist that I am, I followed him across the country, as much to run from my past as it was to be closer to the man who rejected me. I was too broken to come here though, in the beginning. Rather than going for one of the expected schools that my coaches had planned for me, I diverged from that path and chose a smaller school in a rural Oregon town. The school had a solid gymnastics program, though not as renowned as those in California and Kansas, it was still robust in its offerings. And, despite the skeptics from those who previously knew me, it ended up being the right path for me to take.

Had I not gone that route, I never would have healed from my painful past enough to push myself forward with my career. Instead, I created a new life formyself, painstakingly built a new support system with friends, colleagues, and coaches, who were able to push and encourage me until I finally landed my goal. Two Olympic Gold medals and several major sponsorships later, I was a college graduate who had accomplished almost everything my ruthless parents had pushed me to achieve, much to my chagrin. Rather than focusing on the negative, however, I used my influence in the sports community to build on my dreams and open my own sports center. One that caters specifically to low-income and special needs families. And, as I keep reminding myself, I have never been happier. Right.

Stepping into the darkness, I breathe in the crisp night air as I begin my slow trek home. I insert one of my earbuds, leaving the other in my pocket, giving the illusion that I may be listening to music while I walk, but it’s just that- an illusion. Always alert to my surroundings, I would be dumb to take a risk that great, being alone in the dark and oblivious to the world around me.

With only the one earbud in, I am still able to hear everything around me, but it also provides a buffer should anyone decide to try approaching to speak with me. It’s a technique I use often when I want to be left alone with my thoughts. Walking the dark streets of such a large city late at night might be off-putting to some, but I have found comfort in the solitude, taking it as an opportunity to gather my thoughts or clear my head depending on what’s needed. Tonight is a night for clearing my thoughts.

With a moan of painful bliss, I collapse in a heap on my weathered but oversized and comfy thrift couch, filled with relief as I finally can get off my feet after a very long day running around between classes. Kicking off my shoes, I bring my legs up to stretch out across the cushions before dragging down the throw blanket across my lap. Disdainfully, I eye the unpalatable meal resting on the small coffee table before me. Ugh. Reheated leftovers for the third night in a row are just not appetizing, but I had to eat it or else toss it, and I can’t justify the waste when there are so many families around me that would kill for having even this simple plate of food.

Leaning over, I reach down to grab the plate and settle into the unappetizing meal. I grab my phone with my free hand and hit my speed dial.

“Hey hotness, how’s that sexy-ass of yours doing tonight?”

I roll my eyes; years of playful flirting hasn’t worn me down yet, but damn does the man try. “Hey Bash. Sorry I missed your call earlier; it’s been busy today. How was your game?” I can hear the cocky arrogance in his tone even before the words leave his mouth.

“That’s okay. I know how it is. You’re a busy woman these days. . . No time for your long-lost wayward best friend.” He says this with an elongated sigh, ever the dramatic- that one. “We won, of course. You would know, had you been watching the game, Kitty Cat.”

Taking another bite of my underwhelming meal, I roll my eyes, choosing not to respond as I slowly chew the food. He knows why I don’t watch hockey games anymore. Not even for him. At one point in time, I had lived and breathed hockey. Between my brother, and two of his three best friends playing for the same team and ranking as some of the top players in the country for their division, it didn’t make sense not to follow the sport. But that’s all in the past now, back before everything fell apart.

“Hey, let’s switch to facetime. I need to see that beautiful face of yours while we talk.”

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