like him, too,” I confessed. “He’s nice. His brother Jonah is my roommate. And I really like him.”
Henrietta paused and then, to my delight, flexed her arms, pointing to her biceps.
I laughed. “Yes. That’s Jonah.”
She nodded more warmly now. Inspired and curious, I pressed on. “Do you know the Kendalls?” I asked quietly.
The ghost of a smile flickered away as quickly as it had come. She shook her head vehemently. No. No. No.
“Gibson will be here in two minutes,” June said, returning to us. “He was out at the lumber mill.”
Henrietta, studiously avoiding me now, crouched down again and began to pet Katherine in slow, soothing strokes.
28
Jonah
Crickets and tree frogs provided the backdrop to my evening as I pulled up the spreadsheet I was working on and adjusted the number of reps. Once a week I went through all my personal training clients, checking their routines, their results. Reassessed goals. Adapted as necessary.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Victories and failures. Constant adjustments to keep everyone moving in the direction of their goals.
Night had fallen and with it came a crisp breeze cool enough that we’d opened the front and back cottage doors for the air flow.
Usually I worked at the dining room table. However, tonight, I was sprawled on the living room floor with a puppy sound asleep between my legs. Billy Ray had exhausted himself chasing butterflies around the bush in the backyard that afternoon. His chin rested on my shin bone as if he couldn’t bear to be separated from me.
Shelby was in her corner of the living room squinting at her laptop. Headphones at full volume, glasses perched on her nose. Constantly shuffling papers, tapping pens, jiggling feet. I could tell she liked the work, was energized by it.
I liked watching her work. Hell, I liked watching her. There was something about her that drew me in and held me there.
It was a cozy scene. A quiet Thursday night with a dog and satisfying work. I had to admit it was nice having someone to share it with. Nicer still to know that my mom was here in Bootleg Springs, that she’d be here for my birthday Saturday. A quiet cookout here at the house. That was the plan. I’d never been big on parties. Not with a single mom trying hard enough as it was to fill both roles. Even as a kid, I recognized that making sure Mom knew she was enough for me was important. It was easier on us both to keep the celebrations simple.
Turkey burgers, grilled veggies, cold beers on the porch while the sun set. It sounded just about perfect.
For once, everyone that I cared about happened to be in the same spot. I liked that feeling.
Shelby sighed again, and I wondered if her arthritis was flaring up.
I fired off an email to Doris with some cardio and flexibility outlines for the upcoming week. And then started on my newest client. One Shelby Thompson. My gaze flicked back to her.
Her shoulders were tight, hunched. Long hours spent sitting usually led to poor posture. A problem common to most. Unfortunately for my pretty roommate, a hallmark of ankylosing spondylitis was the fusing of vertebrae, which could lead to spinal deformity.
First order of business would be a short stretching routine designed to be inserted into her writing and research schedule at regular intervals. As I toggled back and forth between spreadsheet and how-to videos, she yawned loudly, the headphones muffling the sound to her own ears. Billy Ray let out a corresponding yip in his sleep and snuggled closer to my leg.
I liked getting my hands on a new athlete, liked pointing them in the right direction. For most people, a few consistent tweaks made vast differences in their lives and goals. And I hoped it would be the same for Shelby. She was a researcher at heart, an observer. But judging by the reams of data she’d collected for her paper and her lack of progress on the actual writing, she had difficulty turning that research into action.
That’s where I could come in. She’d read up on triathletes and training. Yet her efforts on her own had been haphazard and inconsistent.
Shelby was on my watch now. It was up to me to give her a program that balanced her work, her training, and her condition. It was the kind of challenge I appreciated. And I had a feeling I would enjoy working with her closely.
While she frowned over interviews and academic journals, I pulled together