Bound (4 page)

“How are you, Kate?” she asked, her face turning serious.

I knew what she meant. Of all the girlfriends I thought I had when I found out I was pregnant, she was the one who stood by me. Kylie went to the secondhand maternity store and bought me some clothes early on. We lived together when I lost the baby, and she knew I needed space but didn’t want to be alone. She was home as much as she could be, but she never asked me how I was or tried to talk to me about it. She was just there, which was exactly what I needed.

“I’m okay. Graduating helped. That last semester was a fog for me.” I ran my finger around the wet rim of my glass, staring at it. “I saw Quinn at a bookstore a few weeks ago and it knocked the wind out of me. He didn’t see me, and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It just brought all the feelings back.”

Kylie nodded, and I decided to share something I hadn’t told anyone yet.

“I went to a grief support group last week.” The words tumbled out, and she arched her brows as she listened.

“How did you like it?”

I considered. “It was good. I felt like it was okay to share with them because they wouldn’t judge m
e. It’s weird, that I confided in strangers, I know—”

“I don’t think so,” Kylie said. “I can understand why that would feel safer.”

“It did. I felt better when I left.”

“Are you going back?”

“I think so,” I said. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. Psychology majors aren’t in high demand in Chicago.”

“No prospects at all
?”

“I can’t even get an interview, let alone a job.”

“The job market’s so bad, Kate, it’s not you.”

I sighed with frustration. “I know, but that doesn’t change the student loans I have to start repaying soon, or the new tires I need on my car.”

“Are you still driving that old Honda?” Kylie’s voice rose with wonder.

“I have to, K, I’m broke. I can’t believe I’m the girl who moved back home after graduation
. I don’t want to mooch off my mom, but I can’t pay any rent right now.”

“Just keep your head up and you’ll find a job.”

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one borrowing gas money from her mom at age 22.

Chapter 3

Ryke

The thick rope cut into my waistline and I stopped, needing a break from the burn. I pressed my hands to my knees and sweat rolled from my hairline down my face, droplets splashing onto the concrete at my feet.

“Did I tell you to stop?” My trainer Dave’s shrill whine was the only noise in the otherwise quiet woods.

I was panting so hard I didn’t feel like talking, so I just shook my head, and more sweat flew.

“Get moving!”

I knew there was fire in my eyes when I glared at him. I tried not to be one of those assholes who hires a guy to train him and then bitches the entire time, but today I was dragging. Waving a hand at the wood pallet behind me, I stood and faced my graying, 40-something friend.

“That ro
ck you put on it weighs about a hundred pounds! Dragging that shit uphill is hard.” I scrubbed a hand down my face and it slid across my soaked skin.

“Everything we do is hard, Ryke.” Dave folded his arms over his chest and gave me the monotone I hated. “Get your ass moving or I’ll make you do it again.”

I shook my head with disgust. “Yeah. I’d like to see you try it.”

Dave’s booming laugh pissed me off more than the monotone. “I’m a 44-year-old trainer, son. You’re a 27-year-old world class professional athlete. You wanna stay there? Run that fucking pallet to the tree line.”

He was right. Bitching took energy I didn’t feel like wasting today. I pulled my t-shirt up and mopped my face off, then bent and continued. My legs burned with the effort, and I pushed myself hard to get past the line of trees so I could untie the rope and catch my breath.

Dave let me be while I drank from a water bottle and checked the messages on my phone. I blew out a breath when I saw a text from my team’s front office about one of my teammates having to cancel a visit to a children’s hospital tonight because of a family emergency. They wanted to know if I’d go in his place.

Tonight was the grief support meeting at the hospital. I didn’t go every week anymore, but I was planning on going tonight. I was hoping the blonde from last week, Kate, would be back. I’d thought about her a few times and wanted to talk to her.

“Let’s go!” Dave called, waving me over. Training outside was a nice break from the gym, but it was hotter than hell today. I texted the front office guy that I’d fill in at the hospital. I never said no to that stuff. Nothing put things in perspective like seeing
those kids smiling and excited despite their serious illnesses. Just thinking about it made me feel like a real pussy for bitching about the workout. 

I tossed my phone back to the ground and dumped the last of the cool water over my hair, ready to get back to work.

***

Kate

The butterflies were gone from my stomach as I stepped off the hospital elevator for my third grief support meeting.
I’d gotten comfortable here. Last week I’d just listened, and hearing others say they felt crazy, angry and unable to move on had soothed my sadness like a salve. I wasn’t the only one. Funny how I felt more kinship with this random mix of strangers than a lot of my longtime friends.

I pushed through the door and saw
that a lot of people were already there. I was running late after a day of what I considered my full time job – job hunting. My black blazer and skirt -- my work seeking uniform – made me stand out in this jeans and sneakers crowd.

I’d worn the same outfit yesterday, so today I’d changed
it up with shiny red heels and a lacy red camisole. The suit was dry clean only, which I couldn’t afford, so I tried to sweat as little as possible in it. Considering it was almost July, that was a challenge.

There were only a few seats left, and I sat down next to Rose just before Kirk started the meeting. She held a plate of cookies toward me and I grabbed a peanut butter one and bit into it immediately. I hadn’t eaten all day.

Carlos was upbeat tonight, telling us he’d asked his girlfriend to move in. The next few people just wanted to give their names, and I recognized one of them, Ryke, from the first meeting. The woman next to him was new, and everyone was still as she introduced herself.

“I’m Tara,” she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I lost my sister a while back, and I just . . . wanted to make friends with some people who’ve been there.”

She wore skinny jeans, strappy heels and a low-cut sleeveless black shirt. Was she planning to hit a club after this? Bizarre.

I’d been planning to just say my name and nothing else, like I had last week, but I surprised myself.

“I’m Kate,” I said, waving weakly. “I finished school in May and I’ve been looking for a job since. And even though I know finding a job won’t make everything better, I really need something to focus on. When I have so much free time, it’s hard not to dwell on the what-ifs.” I sighed and looked at my lap, where my hands rested. “Yesterday I saw a woman walking a baby in a stroller and I cried in my car for like 15 minutes. I should be past that by now.”

I looked up, and everyone’s eyes were on me.

“How did you feel after that?” Kirk asked.

“I guess . . . kind of empty. I’ll never see my baby’s face. I was jealous of that woman, which I know is awful.”

“That’s very normal.” Kirk’s voice was as smooth as water flowing over rocks, and I wondered if he practiced his relaxing tone or it was just his normal voice.

The meeting took less than an hour, and I sna
gged another cookie from Rose when I got up to leave. I’d almost made it to the door when a voice called my name. I turned and saw Ryke approaching, but he got cut off by Tara.

“Aren’t you . . .” A smile spread across her heavily made-up face. “
. . . Jason Ryker?”

He nodded an
d offered a brief smile.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” he said, shaking the hand she held out.

“Oh my God, I’m a huge fan,” she gushed. “I’ve seen you play.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He glanced at me and I threw my bag over my shoulder, wondering if I should wait.

“So.” Tara was trying to look shy, and I wanted to roll my eyes. This girl was about as shy as a Kardashian, judging by her outfit.

“Yeah, so . . . thanks for your support.” Ryke gave another tight smile.

“Is there a place people go to hang out after these meetings?” she asked.

My eyes widened. After a grief support meeting? Like we all went to a karaoke bar or something?

“Uh, not that I know of. Hey, sorry, I need to . . .” He pointed at me and took a step in my direction.

“So maybe I’ll see you here next week?”

“I don’t make it every week, but maybe,” he said. He walked my way, and Tara remained rooted to her spot.

Ryke gestured toward the door
and I took the hint. I led the way out to the hall, where he leaned a shoulder against the wall. He looked down at me and I felt a little intimidated. He was well over six feet tall and his shoulders were very wide. I was only 5’4” and there wasn’t much to me.

“Uh . . .” He pulled a worn black baseball cap off his head and then put it back on. “I wanted to say, first of all, that I’m sorry for your loss.”

My lips turned up just the tiniest bit. That was unexpected, from this towering, dark, muscle-bound man. I was about to thank him when he continued.

“And I also wanted to say . . . I admire the way you talk about it here. It took me more than a month before I could say a word. And even then . . . I never put it all out there here. You’ve got guts, to be so honest about it.”

I was about to answer when the door opened and a few people trickled out of the meeting. One of them was Tara, whose gaze went right to Ryke. She lingered in the hallway, fiddling with nothing in her purse.

I spoke in a low tone to Ryke. “Can I ask about your loss? You don’t have to tell me, but since you said you’ve talked about it here . . .”

“No, I don’t mind.” He glanced around the hallway, where people from the meeting were still chatting. “Do you want to get coffee, maybe? There’s a place across the street.”

“Oh.” I bristled a little with surprise. The part of me that wanted the attention of hot guys had been closed for quite a while. But this wasn’t about attraction.

“Or we could go to the cafeteria here if you’re more comfortable,” he said.

“No, the place across the street’s good.”

His face relaxed into a slight grin as we walked toward the elevator. I pretended not to see Tara heading our way and I was pretty sure he did, too. I heard him breathe out a little when the doors closed.

I clutched the straps of my black quilted bag tightly, feeling the drop in my stomach that meant the elevator was moving. Ryke seemed like a nice guy, but for some reason I was incredibly nervous.

He waited for me to step off when the doors opened, and we walked side by side to the wide, sliding exit doors. The silence continued as we crossed a busy intersection. I had to go slow because my feet were aching from the long day in heels I hadn’t worn much.

“Your feet hurt?” Ryke asked when we reached the sidewalk.

I smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

“Take your shoes off,” he said.

“I’m okay.”

The tiny diner we walked into was pretty packed, but I saw an open two-person booth near the back and grabbed it. As Ryke slid into his seat, I saw two guys at another table looking our way and talking, one of them pointing and looking excited.

“Have you had dinner?” Ryke asked, passing me a battered paper menu.

I held up a hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He raised his brows skeptically. “The way you attacked that cookie, I got the impression you might want to eat dinner.”

My
cheeks warmed when he met my gaze across the table. “No, I just really like cookies.”

“I get that.”

A harried waitress with a gray bun paused at our table on her way past. “Drinks?”

“I just want water,” I said.

“I’ll have water, too,” Ryke said.

“You need some more time before you order?”

“Nothing for me,” I said.

Ryke glanced my way before scanning the menu again. “I’ll have a grilled chicken salad and a double cheeseburger with everything on the side and a vanilla shake. And some onion rings.”

“Hungry?” I asked as the waitress left.

He shrugged. “I’m a big guy.”

But he wasn’t big like that. Large, defined muscles strained the sleeves of his t-shirt, and his chest was wider than anyone’s I’d ever seen. I wanted to press my fingers into it to see if it was as hard as it looked.

“So what do you do for a living?” I asked. We couldn’t continue the elevator silence here.