Gym Junkie

Tully thinks for a moment, her eyes flickering to Rourke and then me. “We take her dancing.”

Chapter 24

Tully

I sit on the couch and pretend to watch television. Brock is outside my apartment with Ben. Rourke left about an hour ago. They are making plans for us to go out tomorrow night. I’ll call Callie now and let her know.

I dial her number. “Hi,” she answers happily.

“Hey,” I say.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

I can’t tell her anything about the evidence crap from work. Or the case, other than what she has seen on television, and I can’t even tell her about Peter yet.

What can I actually talk to her about?

“All this crap with Meredith is stressful. They want us to take her clubbing tomorrow night and try and loosen her up a bit. Can you come?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure.” She hesitates for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I sigh sadly. “It’s official, though. Brock hates me.”

“What do you expect?” she huffs.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know. Like you tell me every fucking day: it’s my own stupid fault.” I throw the cushion off my lap and onto the floor. “It pisses me off, okay?”

“Whatever,” she sighs. “Text me the details for tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, okay.” I exhale heavily, feeling bad for snapping at her. “Do you want to have lunch tomorrow?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re going to sit there like a sad sack of shit feeling sorry for yourself the whole time or not.”

My mouth falls open. “I’m going through a hard time right now, okay?”

“See, here we go again.”

“You’re fucking pissing me off, Callie.”

“Good, I’m trying to. It might snap you out of this Brock bullshit.”

I roll my eyes again. Trust Callie to say it how it is.

“I want my best friend back,” she says.

She’s right. I haven’t been myself since Simon got sick five weeks ago.

“I’m trying,” I whisper.

“Try harder. Because the Tully I know wouldn’t be begging any guy to take her back. She would be using her brain to actually fix the problem.”

I frown.

“The Tully I know wouldn’t be blaming the universe for her break up. She would handle it.”

“I just don’t know how to.”

She exhales heavily. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say softly. “Bye.”

I close my eyes and a tear rolls down my face just as my front door opens and Brock walks in. I quickly wipe it away.

He stills when he sees I’m crying. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, unable to speak through the lump in my throat.

“Has something happened?” he asks, falling serious.

I shake my head as I stare straight ahead at the television.

“What is it?”

I turn to him. “I’ve made such a mess of everything between us.”

He clenches his jaw.

“I don’t know how to fix us, Brock,” I whisper. “And I want to so badly.”

He rolls his lips.

“You look at me like you hate me.” My eyes search his.

He pulls his eyes from mine, and they drop to the floor. He doesn’t answer me.

“You don’t have to stay here tonight. I know you hate my couch.”

He blows out a defeated breath and drops to sit beside me. “I have to stay here, nobody else can do an overnight shift tonight.”

The lump gets so big in my throat. He’s only staying because nobody else can.

“I’m fine,” I whisper as I wipe more tears away. “I don’t need protection.”

“I’m staying.”

“We can go and stay at your house if you want.” I shrug. “That way you will be able to sleep better, and you won’t be tired tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you in my personal space.” He stares at the floor, unable to make eye contact with me.

Oh God. He’s so hurt.

I nod, the tears rising again.

He doesn’t want me in his personal space and that cuts me to the bone.

I stand, needing to get away from him before I completely lose my shit. “Okay, I’m going to bed. Do you want my bed and I can sleep out here?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“You know where the blankets are.”

Silence.

I walk to my bedroom door, turning back to look at him. “I love you,” I whisper.

His eyes rise to meet mine. “Don’t.” He stands in an outrage. “Don’t you dare use those three words as a fucking weapon!”

I step back.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to come back here and act as if nothing has happened?” he yells at the top of his voice. He picks up a coaster from my coffee table and hurls it at the wall.

I flinch, blinking through my tears. I’ve been looking for a trace of emotion from him, but now that it’s anger I’ve unleashed, I don’t want any of it.

“Don’t tell me that you love me, Tully. Don’t you ever fucking tell me that you love me again,” he growls. His eyes fill with tears as they hold mine. “If this is what love feels like, I want nothing to do with it,” he whispers angrily.