Page 11 of Pucking the Grump

Just…rolling. Like water.

“Shit,” I say, half laughing as I get out of the car, slamming my door behind me with a shaking arm. “I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Your nervous system is tapped out, woman. Obviously,” he says, his voice a soothing rumble as he parks a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the building. “Come on, let’s get you inside and headed for a reset. I have strategies.”

“You do?” I ask, as I dig my keys from my bag.

“I do.” Stone takes them from my hand, taking charge in a way that would normally annoy me. But right now, it’s nice to have someone punch in the code for the back entrance, manage the elevator buttons, and open both locks on my third-floor apartment.

Inside, my apartment is a sanctuary of clean minimalism—white walls, sleek furniture, everything in its place. The order is the exact opposite of how I feel right now, which is already a comfort.

“Sit,” Stone says, leading me to my couch. “I’m going to make you some tea, while you?—”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Don’t interrupt,” he says, already heading for my kitchen like he owns it. “I’m making tea, and you’re going to breathe in for a long, slow count of four, and then out for five. That should help activate your parasympathetic nervous system,” he calls out, raising his voice to be heard around the corner. “It’s a trick Stephanie taught Tank, and he taught me. Great for getting out of your head and making your body feel safe relaxing, and letting its guard down. Put a hand on your belly and watch your stomach rise and fall while you do it.”

I feel a little silly, but I place a hand on my stomach anyway. At this point, I’m not really in a position to refuse help or insist that I’m fine.

As the sound of my kettle filling with water reaches me, I begin to breathe. I’ve taken enough of Stephanie’s classes to be familiar with this exercise, but I’ve never paid much attention to the breathing parts of class. I go to hot yoga for strength and flexibility, not Zen.

But maybe I should start embracing the Zen a little more, if tonight is anything to judge by…

By the time Stone returns with funky-smelling tea, I’ve managed to stop leaking from my eye holes, but when I reach out to accept the mug, my arms still feel wobbly and weak.

“Chamomile with honey,” he says, taking a seat beside me, close but not too close. “It should help you sleep. Nothing like deep breathing and sleep for what ails you. And protein, but you’re running low. All I could find was some frozen chicken and cashews that look like they’ve been in your pantry since Christ was born.”

“Yeah, I should have bought more protein at the store on Friday. My meal planning has really fallen apart over the past few months.” I take a sip of tea, the warmth loosening some of the gripping sensation in my chest. “Thank you for this. And the breathing. I feel better already.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. “Whatever’s got you so on edge?”

I sigh. “It’s not any one thing. It’s just...” I gesture vaguely with my free hand. “Everything. Work. Dad. The interview. Coaching stuff. My team has their first big game next week, and two of my best players pulled a muscle at our last practice...” I trail off, realizing I’m sharing more than I intended. I shake my head. “Anyway. Yeah. You know how it is.”

“I do. You’re the hardest working person I know,” Stone says. “But even badasses need breaks. When’s the last time you took a break, Rem? A real one.”

I take another sip of tea to avoid answering.

Because the truth is…I can’t remember.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, watching me with those blue eyes that see far too much. For such an easy-going man, Stone is always watching, and he doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ve been going non-stop for way too long. You need to make time for rest. Back off a little and?—”

“I don’t have time to back off,” I say, setting the mug down on my coffee table. “I know you’re right, but with the interview coming up and people depending on me to keep the promises I’ve made…”

“You don’t want to let them down,” he finishes for me, before adding in a gentler tone, “But you’re going to let them down anyway, babes. If you keep pushing yourself until you’re so burned out that your body gives out on you, this isn’t going to end well. I’m honestly surprised you’re not sick. I always get sick when I’m overworked, and I’ve never been half as overworked as you are right now.”

He’s right, which makes me irrationally annoyed. “I don’t need a doomsday prophecy, Stone.”

“Not prophesying,” he says, with a shrug. “I’m just worried about you.”

The sincerity in the words makes me look away. There’s a rawness to this moment, a vulnerability I didn’t plan for. I don’t do vulnerable, not if I can help it. Not with anyone, and especially not with this too-charming, too-likeable man who keeps making me feel things I don’t want to feel.

“I’m going to take a bath. I think that might help me get better sleep, too,” I say as I rise to my feet. Partly because I do think that. Partly as an excuse to put some distance between me and Stone. “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay now, I promise.”

Stone nods, but instead of heading for the door, he follows me toward the bedroom. “It’s fine, I’ve got nowhere to be. Barb’s already been taken out and fed, and I don’t like to leave a woman alone when she’s shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m not—” My protest dies on my lips as I realize my arms are still jittering at my sides. I let out a frustrated huff. “Stupid body.”

“Stop that. Your body isn’t stupid, it’s the best. I know from experience,” he says, tailing me into the bathroom. “And I have a personal investment in making sure it stays fit and healthy. Did you eat dinner tonight?”

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