Page 76 of Red Zone
He lets out a strained breath and presses through the final rep, muscles taut, jaw clenched. When he racks the bar, he sits up and rolls his shoulders out.
“Swear you’re more annoying without pads on,” he says, wiping sweat from his face with a towel.
I flash a grin. “Nah. I’m charming in every setting.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bro.”
Beck walks past us with a shake of his head, dropping a pair of dumbbells on the rack. “I can’t believe I dragged my ass in here the first day of our break.”
“You asked to come,” I remind him.
“Yeah, and now I regret it,” he groans, stretching out his back. “Y’all are built different.”
“That’s called muscle memory and trauma,” I say, grabbing my water bottle.
Beck flips me off without looking. “I’m hitting the showers. Don’t let Jaxon start another TED Talk about recovery hydration.”
“Noted,” I say, watching him disappear down the hallway.
Jaxon towels off his neck, then drops onto the bench next to me. “He’s been better lately.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice quieter now. “Not sure if it’s better-better or just numb-better.”
Jaxon nods slowly. “It’s been what…a month since the breakup?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Month and a half, give or take.”
Jaxon winces. “Still brutal.”
“Yeah.” I lean back against the wall, exhaling. “He’s mostly in the ‘I hate everyone’ phase now. You know—dark music, extra reps, no eye contact.”
“And no random hookups?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I think that’s what’s throwing everyone off. He’s just…sad. And mad.”
Jaxon nods. “Honestly, that’s probably a good thing. A normal response at least. Eleven years is a lot of history.”
“Yeah.” I pause, glancing toward the locker room. “Still sucks to watch. I’ve seen him drunk text her three times, then delete it before he hits send. It’s like watching a guy try to punch his way out of a pool.”
Jaxon gives a low whistle. “You talk to him much about it?”
“Here and there,” I say. “But I think he needs time. And a few more lifts where he pretends the bench press bar is that guy’s face.”
Jaxon cracks a smile. “We’ve all been there.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve done my own time in the heartbreak trenches—mine just came earlier, messier, and buried so deep it doesn’t look like heartbreak anymore.
“Thanksgiving plans?” I ask, changing the subject.
He grins. “Heading out after this. Madison’s coming with.”
“Big move.”
He shrugs, but I can see the softness behind it. “She’s family now.”
I let the words hang there for a second, more affected than I want to admit. Must be nice to know someone’s got you like that. No second-guessing. No backup plan.
“Nice,” I say, keeping it casual. “Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to three days of eating like trash and arguing with ESPN in the living room.”
