Page 16 of Crazy In Love
I have no shoes on either, but his lack of footwear becomes a detail that sticks in my side. His chest glistens with sweat despite the chill in the air,and his back burns a light shade of red… beneath the ink, that is. So much of it littered from shoulder to shoulder.
It’s too bad he’s an insufferable control freak. Because even a blind woman would acknowledge he’s a treat to look at.
I hide amongst the morning fog and sample my coffee in the quiet, and when Chris switches from running like a lunatic to lifting weights that may or may not consist of a tractor engine, I merely shake my head and knowthisis the purest version of that man I’ll ever know.
When he thinks he’s alone, not competing for Tommy’s attention, or Alana’s, or even Franky’s. When he has no clue I’m near, and because he doesn’t, lacks the massive chip on his shoulder and his unfair claim to the only family I’ve ever truly known. When it’s just him, and he’s not imagining false things to be defensive about, he creates an image of serenity.
Just a man working his body to the point of failure. Building muscle and forcing his heart to a thunderous pace.
I settle in and watch him lift things and throw things. Squat and roll. He sweats and grunts, and when I think he’s ready to take a break, he wipes his face and starts all over again.
Five in the morning is for lazy sleep-ins or quiet moments by the water. A romantic book and a cup of coffee. Or a hug, the kind that never ends. But Chris’s preference for a punishing ‘I must be stronger than Rambo’ routine leaves me with a deep sadness in the base of my belly.
Because only the most guarded, wounded man would work himself the way he does while no one else is watching.
“Fox?”
Startled, I tear my gaze across to Alana’s door, and in front of it, the woman herself, in tiny sleep shorts and a shirt that can’t possibly hide all of her belly. She squints, searching for me in the yard and tracking all the way to the dock, until finally, our eyes meet, and the worry in hers extinguishes, replaced by sweet happiness.
She places her hand on the railing and sumo-walks her way down the stairs, so while she’s busy with that, I cast my eyes back tothe Chris show.But of course, his workout is over, and his eyes burn against mine.
It should be impossible that a human being’slightcould change so visibly from one moment to the next. But the darkness that surrounds him now is entirely different from the darkness of an early morning. His unfounded anger, as obvious as if he were facing me, with two middle fingers pointed to the sky.
His chest lifts and falls, oxygen flooding his veins and filling his lungs, and by his sides, his hands flex and ball. His arms swell with adrenaline andthe added blood flow from his workout. But if he receives a serotonin boost from exercise, he shows none of it to me.
He merely frowns, and when Alana emerges from the front of her yard and starts onto the dock, his eyes flicker her way.
And damn him, they soften.
“What are you doing out here so early?” Oblivious to our audience, Alana pads across the rough wood, massaging the side of her stomach with a kneading roll of her hand. “I know you’re a morning person, but this is kinda ridiculous. It’s barely six o’clock.”
“It’s six already?” I don’t have a watch, and I didn’t bring my phone outside. But I cast a look to the sun, crawling just a little higher. “I didn’t even realize. Why are you awake so early?”
“I smelled the coffee Tommy banned me from having.” She walks straight toward me, her belly hitting mine and her hands wrapping around my mug before I can stop her. Then she brings it up and sticks her nose as close to the liquid as she can, drawing the smell all the way to the base of her lungs. “That’s the good stuff. Jesus.” She takes another whiff and comes up again with a goofy grin. “This baby is coming today.”
Just like that, my heart splats, and my eyes drop to her stomach. “I’m sorry… what? Are you having contractions?”
“Everything feels a little tighter, that’s all. It hasn’t begun, but I have a sneaking suspicion she was waiting for you.” She hands my coffee back and comes around to lean against the railing. “What were you looking at?”
My eyes swing back to Chris’… or, well, the place Chris stood a mere moment ago. But his yard is empty now.
“Fox?”
“Nothing. Just enjoying the quiet. Do you normally come out here at this hour?”
“I think about it a lot. But most of the time, I stay in.”
“Lazy bones.”
She snickers. “I can’t leave until Tommy’s ready to let go.”
“Because he won’t let you?”
“Nah… BecauseIwon’t let me.” Smiling, she brings her eyes around to mine. “Sometimes Franky climbs into bed with us, so when that happens, and we have nowhere else to be, we usually switch the TV on and, before we know it, it’s nearly the middle of the day, and we didn’t even notice we were hungry.”
Itut-tut-tut.“That Watkins boy not feeding you?”
“Seems he’s obsessed with taking care of me. Food. Water. Comfort. He’s bought two dozen different shapes and sizes of pillow in the last sixmonths, all for me to try because he’s worried my stomach hurts when I lie on my side.”
