Page 104 of Citius

“Sure,” I said, more than willing to escape their collective awe for gymnastics greatness.

I waved over one of the other coaches, stepped aside, and followed Morgan across the gym.

“How does our facility stack up against Wakeland State’s?” I asked.

“About the same—which is true for most of the sporting complexes, except the football operations center,” she replied. “But I’m sure Wakeland will find a willing donor or twenty to cough up enough funds to build a rival facility, and the cold war will continue.”

She held the door for me as we entered a side hallway.

“But I didn’t come here to talk about equipment purchasing.” Morgan paused before a trophy case, taking a moment to admire the hardware inside. Then she turned to face me. “You haven’t come over. Why?”

“Early conditioning with some of the girls.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and leaned against the wall. The rough scratch of brick against my shirt helped keep me grounded.

Deception wasn’t my strong suit. Avoidance, though? That I could manage.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I got a prescription.”

Her lips pinched into the most tempting little pout. “But your appointment with Cal—”

“Still meeting with him on Thursday. But it’s a follow-up now.” I let out a dry laugh. “Owen forced him to make a house call over the weekend.”

Morgan took half a step back. Her brows lifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Was that before or after you told them about us being neighbors?”

Ah. Turns out the big guy hadn’t mentioned I was his patient. That was…oddly reassuring. Maybe hewasa legit doctor and not just a pile of brainy charisma.

“Cal was there for the whole mess if that’s what you’re wondering.” I pressed harder against the wall, the bricks digging into my shoulders. “So, yeah—everybody knows everything now.” I paused as the first whiff of compost reached my nose. “Well,almosteverything.”

“Thank you for telling them.” She stepped back again, her narrowed gaze drifting toward the sunset-soaked front lobby. “I should go. Sorry for interrupting.”

“Hey, uh…” I held out my hand—for her. To keep her with me for a moment longer. But that meant I needed an excuse. Of course, I went with the lamest option. “Scent check? Not sure if I need more spray.”

Morgan stared at my hand, her eyes slowly trailing up my arm before meeting my eyes. A tight, peculiar expression darkened her gaze, clashing with the polished air of her professional smile.

“I can’t smell anything.”

And then she left—a beautiful mirage, disappearing into the hazy orange glow of waning daylight.

There one second, then gone. Just like always.

Trapped in a cycle of our own making. We talk and part, talk and part. The meetings were never long enough, and the words were never what either of us wanted to say. The distance was too great to overcome—because my gravitational pull wasn’t strong enough to make her stay.

Because I was lacking.

But I’d never, ever dump her. Not in a million years.

Thirty

Cal

Choppy waves struck the retaining wall along the waterside path behind the Rhine Fieldhouse. I sat on a bench beneath a canopy of vibrant foliage, nursing a cup of coffee while reviewing Wyatt’s test results on my phone. Not the typical Thursday morning consultation Morgan probably had in mind when she booked the appointment, but Wyatt’s case demanded special attention.

“Hey, Cal.” Wyatt jogged over, wearing sunglasses and his customary gym shorts, as if his desert-born blood was impervious to the fall chill.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was envious that he still had two good knees. Jogging was out of the question for me, even on the best days.

He slowed to a stop, resting his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. His gaze followed thepath until it disappeared around the bend, where the first glimpse of downtown came into view.

“Want to walk and talk,” he asked, always a man of action, “or stay here?”

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