Page 48 of The Truths We Seek

Tomorrow. Maybe.

Hauling ass out of my room, I almost run straight into Bruno. “Sorry, forgot you were out here.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he says, chuckling. “To the gym?”

“Well you did say you’d teach me some stuff. Want to do that today after my workout?”

He shrugs and glances at his watch. “Can do, probably better tomorrow though. I’ve got a thing tonight.”

“No worries,” I say with a smile. “I can work out plenty on my own.”

I don’t mention that I haven’t talked to Meyer or the others about my plans to learn how to defend myself. I know I could ask Rory again, but they all seem to have a lot going on at the moment. Being an additional burden to them isn’t something I want.

Boredom spurs me down the stairs and to the gym. I know I asked Meyer if I could help with his business and he said not to worry, but that wasn’t a no.

Maybe Bruno will have an idea of what I could do to help them.

Lord knows I can’t just keep working out and lounging around. I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind. How Shae and her mom manage it baffles me, because if I stop for too long I’ll end up in my head, and that’s not a fun place for anyone to stick around too long.

Am I totally avoiding dealing with my grief? Avoiding asking too many questions about Trent? Avoiding… well, all of the freaking emotions? Absolutely I am. Emotions don’t seem to get me anywhere, contagious little bastards.

Would I rather lose myself in getting sweaty? In all ways imaginable? Yes, please, sign me up. But I need something to occupy my mind for the in-between.

At least until I’m ready to deal with this shit I’m avoiding.

Is it healthy? Of course not. My therapist is probably the most frustrated human on the planet right now. But this is how I deal. I need processing time before I sit in it anymore. I did the initial wallowing, guilt-ridden thing, but I can’t anymore.

Everyone deals with shit differently, this is how I’m doing it.

My way.

Might not be the “right” way, but fuck it.

Who says there is a right way?

Once we reach the gym, I hook my phone up to the speakers and play Middle Fingers by Aston while I warm up on the treadmill. I run like my demons are chasing me, the music keeping me focused as it switches to Shake by The Haunt and my mind finally quiets.

“You think the boys will let me help out with the business?” I ask Bruno, who quirks his brow at me.

“You want to help with the business?” he asks, basically parroting my question.

“That’s what I said.”

He laughs, just once, but shakes his head. “I doubt it, Quinn. They want to keep you safe, which means as far away from the business as possible. Why do you think you’re not even at the club anymore? Too many variables. Outside of this compound, the risk… well, it’s higher. Even here isn’t entirely safe, as you discovered, but it’s easier. Until they find out who was helping Trent—”

“What do you mean, helping Trent?” I hit the stop button on the treadmill and turn my full attention to him.

“Shit,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Nothing. I meant nothing. But no, I don’t think they’ll let you help with the business.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I stare him down, fairly certain he’s laughing on the inside at just how terrifying I’m not, but I want to know what he meant. “Bullshit to nothing. What did you mean?”

“Fuck,” he grumbles, staring back at me. “Trent had help, we just don’t know who. If they find out I told you, I am fucking fish food.”

“So dramatic,” I respond, rolling my eyes before jumping off the treadmill. “But thank you. A few things make more sense now.”

I’m a little frustrated that Meyer didn’t tell me, but he did say there were threats I guess. He just wasn’t specific.

“Secret's safe with me.” He visibly relaxes at my words and I smile. “Trust goes both ways, right? I’m not going to tell on you, not when I wanted to know. Now, I feel like sushi. You hungry?”

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