Page 48 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“Is that what that does?” I studied the machine but couldn’t really see it. “Huh, so—” Mandie stepped in front of me, hands on hips. “What?”

“Tell me what happened and I’ll show you how to do some deadlifts,” she said. “Girls kill at them. We have disproportionately strong glutes and legs.”

“OK…” My lips pressed together. “Bronson wasn’t supposed to be here. The rule is three days to decompress, three weeks to adjust, and then three months for a dog to find his place in a new home. Instead, Rhys brought him to the gym three minutes after he picked Bronson up and then wanted to take him for a walk three seconds later. He’s rushing the process, and as a result, Bronson got spooked.”

“Is the dog OK? Did he run away? Do we need to go look for him?”

“No, he’s in the office,” I replied. “It’s just…”

Dogs’ whines cut through me like a knife on a good day, but Bronson’s hit differently. Probably because it wasn’t hard for me to imagine the environment he’d been rescued from. I saw Bronson not long after he was brought in, when those scars were still pink and fresh. It felt like every time I closed my eyes, there the dog was, staring at me with haunted eyes.

“He got spooked by a bunch of guys at the beach because it was too soon. I told Rhys it was too soon, and he just kept pushing.”

“And you just love being pushed, amirite?” That was the problem with hanging around with my damn sister. She had an encyclopaedic knowledge of my childhood and wasn’t afraid to use it against me. Mandie slung an arm around my neck and then steered me towards a barbell that would’ve frankly intimidated me if it wasn’t for my bad mood. “So let's give this a go. You remember the hip hinge I taught you.” There was much discussion about thrusting your butt backwards, so of course I remembered it. “I’ve loaded the bar up with some lighter plates. Let's see how you do with them.”

Surprisingly well for some reason. My feet planted firm, my back kept in a neutral position, my hands struggled to retain my grip on the bar, but I pushed through the hip hinge, thrusting them forward, then controlling their shift backwards again and again.

“Damn, I figured you’d have pretty strong legs,” Mandie said, walking around me to check my form. “But you’re stronger than I thought. OK, let's try some heavier weights.”

We did, over and over, until my heart was beating hard and fast in my ears, the sound competing with the fine tremor in my legs. As was often the case, when the anger ran its course, all that was left was me, feeling somewhat smaller and emptier as a result. I straightened up after my second set, blowing out my breath for a brief rest, when I caught sight of Bronson. On the lead now, he wasn’t able to come running over, no matter what he might wish. Rhys kept him on a short leash, something I approved of, but he didn’t look my way as he walked out of the gym.

“Oh, looks like someone’s in the doghouse,” Mandie said, passing me a drink.

“Who, Bronson?”

“No, dickhead. Rhys.” She nodded in his direction as the glass doors closed behind him. “That’s about as quiet and withdrawn as I’ve ever seen him.”

“Shit.” I wiped my forehead. “Maybe I should apologise.”

“Why?” She stared into my eyes. “Were you wrong? Should he have kept Bronson at home today?”

“Yes, but?—”

“No buts.” She poked me in the shoulder, so of course, I had to do the same to her seconds later. “That’s what Mum and I keep trying to tell you. Don’t let the people pleasing bullshit get in the way of making a valid point. If you reckon the dog shouldn’t have been outside of the house right now, stand by that.”

“But…”

I stared at the doorway when it opened again, but it was just to admit another couple of gym bros.

“Butt, not but.” Mandie slapped me on the arse and my lightning-sharp reflexes meant I punched her hard in the very taut thigh, forcing me to grin as she winced and hopped away. “OK, just for that, I’m loading the bar heavier and you’re doing twice as many sets.”

She stayed true to her word, pushing me hard enough to extinguish all emotions other than exhaustion, but when we got back home and I collapsed down onto the couch in a wobbly-legged heap, Mandie remained buoyant. Her eyes shone as she described increasingly baroque training schedules, but I had to break it to her that I’d need more than one rest day. The next morning I was hobbling around bent double, my hamstrings screaming every time I straightened up.

“Ice bath,” she said decisively, right as I tried to pull my precious, precious coffee towards me.

“After work,” I promised, sucking down a sip of coffee, the warmth spreading through me. “If I make it.” I started to mince towards the front door, but she just bounded after me.

“Get moving.” She was like a seriously annoying PSA on TV, extolling the virtues of an active lifestyle. “If you warm the muscles up and stop sitting around all day, they won’t hurt so much.”

Yeah, that was a lie. I winced every damn time I got out of my seat behind the desk at the vets, right up until the point the call came through.

“Good afternoon…” My eyes flicked up to check the clock and yep, I only had a couple more hours left of my shift. “Bayside Veterinary Surgery. How may I help you?”

“Do you have any appointments left today?” a deep, masculine voice asked and that had me stiffening.

“Ah, not at this point, sir. The vets are completely booked up, but I can see if I can get you in tomorrow? What seems to be the problem?”

“My dog isn’t eating,” he said, and I heard the fear in his voice.

---