Instead of looking away, like I might have before, I took a deep breath and gave him a small smile.
“Not really the kind of topic you can push if someone doesn’t want to discuss it,” Lia said. “Imagine if Logan lost Paige. He wouldn’t be able to talk easily about her either.”
The three of us went quiet. My heart went a little pinched, a little achy at the thought of it. He’d never be ready. Never.
Maybe that was the kind of marriage Aiden had too. The kind he’d never get over.
One day at a time, I reminded myself.
The twins left.
His client left.
A class started and ended while I continued to work.
And I found myself unable to stop thinking about what Lia had said. What this fresh start might mean to him.
As I thought it, a giant truck pulled up in front of the building and I hopped up off the floor to go to Aiden’s office.
“Got a minute?” I asked, popping my head around the corner.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For you, yeah.”
My cheeks went warm, and in the light of his office, I thought maybe his did too.
“The guys are here to install the new sign.” I gave him a tiny smile. “Want to watch?”
He studied me. “If you’ll join me.”
Carefully, I nodded, and left his office while he followed.
Chapter Fourteen Aiden
I’d almost convinced myself that the invitation for her to join me meant nothing. Almost. Because as we walked side by side, a low, humming awareness arced between her body and mine even though we didn’t touch.
Nothing more would ever be possible with her, I’d come to realize. But it was tolerable, at least for my own sanity, as long as it didn’t progress past this.
It was that awareness that had me stepping just a little farther away from her, because the last thing I needed was to ruin the ease we’d found in the recent stretch of days.
“Lemonade?” she asked.
In my head, I laughed out loud. But I kept my face even as I answered. “Nope.”
When I glanced in her direction, she was frowning.
“It’s not fair, you know,” she said lightly. “I know you asked Amy what to get us.”
I pushed open the gym door and gestured for her to exit the building in front of me. “Life never is fair, is it, Ward?”
She snorted.
The men standing in the cherry picker affixed the sign with precision as Isabel, and I found a spot to stand and watch. The edges of the H appeared, a vivid blue that would glow brightly when the lights turned on at night.
Next to me, Isabel shaded her eyes and watched them work.
Her frame expanded on a deep inhale, and I found myself waiting to see if she’d speak, what she’d say.
“Before I came here for the first time, I had no idea how to handle all the things I’d shoved down. At fourteen, I didn’t know it was just … anger waiting to get out.” She licked her lips as more of the sign appeared. “Fear too, I guess. I ended my first workout a sobbing mess.” She paused, a rueful expression on her beautiful face, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. “I hate crying. But this place gave me something safe. Somewhere safe to put all the things that were too big for my body.”
It was easy to imagine her at that age, blazing eyes and emotions exploding out of her.
The workers moved to the other side, half of the sign now visible.
“I have never loved a place more than the home where my brother raised us,” she continued. “Until I walked through those doors.” Isabel turned to me, eyes soft and solemn. “I’m really proud to be a part of what you’re building here, Aiden. You’re taking something I love, and you’re treating it with the same care that I would if it were mine.”
My reaction to her words, her admission, wasn’t peaceful or soothing, and it took everything in me to hold still, not to reach for her hand, simply to find an anchor in the moment. “Thank you,” I said in a gruff voice.
Through the sound of the drills they used, the loud tinkering of metal on metal, Isabel and I fell into a comfortable silence.
I closed my eyes as the sun warmed my skin, and I imagined Beth seeing this. She’d be proud, in this home I’d found, this haven I was building.
The workers pulled the last of the protective coverings down, and as the cherry picker lowered, I finally saw the name in full.
“Looks good,” she said quietly.
The words were slow to crawl up my throat, past the hard-edges of emotion crowding the space. “It does.”
Somehow, it felt right that it was just her and I witnessing this moment, and I refused to dig into why.
“You didn’t want to have a big ribbon-cutting or anything?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“You know, you keep surprising me.”
Glancing at her, I found her attention still focused on the sign. “Yeah?”
“I’ve known a lot of athletes, current and former. Even if they don’t love the spotlight, they know how to use it to their advantage when necessary. I figured you’d do that here.”
I hummed, folding my arms over my chest. “A few years ago, I think I might’ve.”
Isabel gave me a quick look, then turned back to the front of the building.
“It might not be like this for everyone,” I continued, “but when my wife died, I hated the attention that came with it. With my decision to leave the sport. Being the center of everyone’s focus at the worst time in your life changed everything. Nothing about it appealed to me anymore.” I stared at the letters in blue. “I know it sounds crazy.”
“Not crazy.” She gave me a look, wisps of her almost-black hair slipping across her face in the breeze. “But you deserve to celebrate this. Your family and friends do too.”
My hands itched to slide the hair behind
