Luca (Chicago Blaze 2)

“But seriously, why are we walking?”

“You’re not a very patient person, are you?”

“Not particularly.”

After a couple seconds of silence, she says, “My bad cop approach doesn’t seem to be working, so I’m changing it up.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean? I do everything you ask me to.”

“You do, but that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

She gives me a serious look. “Abby, what do you have against sleep?”

I turn away and look straight ahead. “I never said I have anything against it.”

“You don’t have to. I can tell by looking at you that you don’t get anywhere near enough sleep. Which makes me wonder if you’re eating well. I don’t want to drop you as a client, Abby. I feel like you need me. But I can’t keep pushing you to work out so hard if you aren’t giving your body the food and rest it needs.”

“I do eat well. I have breakfast and lunch made for all the employees at my office by a chef every day, and I eat it, too. And I usually have a wrap or a salad delivered for dinner by the deli by my office.”

Percy gives me a sideways glance. “So you work late every night?”

“Pretty much.” I sigh softly. “Surely an Olympic athlete doesn’t have an issue with me working hard.”

“Look, I’m all about hard work if you’re also taking care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, okay? If I need a counselor, I can get one for way less than I’m paying you.”

Percy hums with amusement. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work on me anymore, Abby.”

I turn to ger with a sharp look. “What?”

“We’ve spent enough time together that I know how you operate. When I hit a nerve, you try to deflect and change the subject, usually with a passive aggressive suggestion that I’m not doing my job or a threat to fire me.”

I open my mouth to respond, but then close it immediately, because honestly, I’ve got nothing. Percy is right.

We walk in silence for a minute. Then Percy says, “So I don’t want to talk about how much sleep you do or don’t get anymore.”

“Perfect.”

“We both know it’s not much. What I want to know is why.”

My heart kicks up its pace, but I shrug and try to play it off. “I’m a workaholic, like you said.”

“Abby…” Percy’s voice trails off as she seems to consider her words. “I used to volunteer at a shelter for abused women. I know a wounded heart when I see one.”

Her words cut deep.

“I’ve never been abused,” I fire back.

She puts her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not saying you have.”

I stop and step off to the side of the track, crossing my arms. “Then what? Look, if you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

“I’m not the enemy, Abby.”

I stare at her in silence. This is the expression I use in business negotiations. It usually works, making people either back down or get defensive.

But not on Percy.

“You’re hurting,” she says softly.

“I’m f—”

She cuts in. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. I’m hip to your bullshit, okay? And if I’ve learned anything from a lifetime as an athlete, it’s that health and wellness are always more than just physical. I’ve struggled, too. You’re not alone.”

My throat tightens and my eyes burn as tears threaten. Oh, hell. It’s been a long time since I’ve cried, and of all times, of all places, here? Now?

“Let it out,” Percy coaxes. “I won’t judge. I won’t repeat it.”

“It’s not—” I stop and clear my throat. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. It’s that some things are just…too much. I’m functioning, and I need to stay functioning.”

She nods and leads the way to a vacant bench, nodding for me to sit down. She takes a seat next to me and we sit quietly for a minute.

“I appreciate you admitting to me that you’re hurting,” she says in a low tone. “Just that is a big thing. And if you’re not ready to say more, that’s okay.”

I lean my elbows on my thighs and stare at the floor, taking a few deep breaths.

“I dated a guy who doped once,” Percy says so softly I can hardly hear her. “In college. He was a runner, too. And just knowing he was cheating…I was wrecked over the guilt. I never said a thing, because I thought I loved him.”

I glance over at her, and her expression tells me these memories are tough for her.

“And then when he got busted…” Her laugh is humorless. “Everyone assumed I was doing it, too. I was shunned. They put me through every test conceivable because they assumed I was somehow beating their drug tests. The shame I felt…”

“Even though you did nothing wrong?”

Percy’s expression is sober. “My boyfriend was offered a reduced penalty if he told them I’d done it, too.”