Page 18 of Where We Belong

“Hm.”

I wish I could say yes, if only for Shelli’s sake, but I don’t see how he could help me with new routines, no matter how involved he is in the gymnastics world. Plus, with a competition in less than two months, it’ll be easier to perfect the ones I already have than to learn something new. “Thanks for offering,” I say, “but I still think I’ll manage.”

He turns to look at me, and while this pace is clearly too fast for him, he doesn’t let up. I’ll have to give it to him, he’s tough. Even though he looked ready to have a one-on-one with death when planking, he resisted dropping down until the very last second. I admire that.

After a moment of silence only interrupted by his panting and mine, he says, “You’re not used to accepting help, are you?”

I stay silent because I don’t want to lie, but the answer isn’t easy to say. Not because I’m not used to accepting help, but because I’m not used to it being offered to me. I’ve been a nuisance most of my life. To my family, to the teachers who’d get mad when I couldn’t figure out the right answers to their questions no matter how many times they tried to explain the theory, to the friends who thought it was annoying that I always wanted to have sleepovers at their place instead of staying at mine.

“It’s okay to do it, you know.”

God, will he ever drop this?

“I’m good,” I grunt, praying we can finish this run in silence. The more I think about this, the more I feel like there’s something wrong with my life. With me.

“Let me at least—”

The root comes out of nowhere, or maybe it was very obvious and I was too distracted to see it. One second I’m on my feet, and the next I’m falling on my hands and knees, the rough ground digging into my palms faster than I can brace them for.

Finn’s feet slide against the gravel as he comes to a halt next to me. “Shit, are you okay?”

Concern etched onto his face, he drops to his knees, and he clasps his hand on my shoulder. Before I can stop myself, I flinch, hard enough that I feel him jump back.

Fuck.

I blink quickly, shoving myself up and wiping my palms on my thighs. I ignore the tears at my legs and the roughness of the gravel embedded in my skin. This is so embarrassing. I don’t think I’ve reacted this strongly in years, even when Andy would come up to me from behind to spot me for a movement and I wasn’t ready for it. He really caught me by surprise.

Even without looking directly into his eyes, I can feel the questions written all over him.

“What’s—”

“You know,” I interrupt, keeping my attention on the small cuts on my skin, “I think I’d rather finish that run by myself, if you don’t mind.”

I don’t wait for his answer, and the only thing I hear as I jog away from him are his confused stutters. I try to ignore them—to ignore everything that just happened—and to focus on each new step. I up my speed, hoping for the pain and exertion to clear my head. Except it doesn’t matter how fast I run. My demons always catch up.

Chapter 7

Finn

Idon’tlikedaysoff.

It’s 4:00 p.m. on a Saturday, and while I work all weekends starting November, when the Christmas season truly begins, there’s no need for that in October. It’s something I wish I could enjoy but usually don’t, especially today. When I woke up, I felt this urge to do something with myself, only to remember I had a whole day ahead of me and no clear plans. After tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep late, I decided to show up at the farm to see whether there was work I could do to help for the coming weeks, but I came up empty and returned home, honestly disappointed.

There’s something wrong with me.

Since I came back home, I cleaned my entire apartment, went on a long walk while listening to a podcast on managerial skills and wider goals, meal-prepped for the week, watched one of those superhero movies, and completed a third of a new puzzle.

Even so, here I am, still as antsy as I was first thing this morning.

There is something about having an entire free day that makes time feel endless. I can almost feel the clock ticking, second by slow, painful second, the small needle reminding me of a car stuck in a Boston traffic jam. When I’m working, I don’t notice it as much, but here, the emptiness in my life is blaring.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table in front of a puzzle that’s supposed to represent an abstract painting of a bowl of fruits, my fingers tapping the wooden surface. I guess I could go on another run to use up some energy. Alone, this time.

Running is something I barely ever do, so I can’t say for sure why I decided to go yesterday. It almost didn’t feel like a conscious decision. One second, I was standing in my small kitchen, drinking coffee and scrolling through my phone, and the next, I was getting dressed in training clothes. There was the possibility that Lexie could’ve left for work already, but I’d seen her running around the farm at dawn earlier in the week, so I knew she might have decided to do so again. As to the reason why I wanted to go on a run with her specifically… I also don’t have an answer for that. She clearly doesn’t like me much, and I’ve never been one to run after people who don’t want me. Mom always used to say that the only people you should want in your life are those who want you in theirs. But yesterday, I felt like being a masochist, and fuck if I know why. I wanted to go, so I did.

I shouldn’t have. Clearly, she didn’t want me there. At first, when she ended up letting a smile slip, I’d thought maybe she didn’t mind. But then she became stiff when I talked, and she jumped away when I just touched her shoulder, and the next thing I knew, she had left me there, alone in the woods and fighting for my next breath. That girl isn’t just strong. She has cardio for days, and once again, I could barely keep up.

Maybe I did something wrong. I was trying to make her feel like she could talk to me, to get to know the girl who lives on my land and yet is so mysterious I barely know a thing about her after a month, but even that must’ve been too much. I pushed too hard.

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