Rescue You

by Elysia Whisler

  Constance bit back a smile.

  “I’ll see you at the gym.”

  “Yep,” Constance agreed. “Not today, though. You’ll be resting and letting those muscles heal and get the full benefit of my massage for the rest of the day, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stuffed his wallet in his jeans pocket. “I worked out this morning. It’s a good one. Enjoy it if you go tonight. There’s running.”

  “Running,” Constance said. “Running used to be my jam. But I haven’t run in a long time.”

  “Well, then.” Sean got a big grin on his face. “Today’s the day.”

  Constance wasn’t so sure about that.

  * * *

  Stanzi flailed the rope around her feet and hung there, swinging. Hobbs put his hands on her hips to steady her and she dropped to the ground. She pushed her lip out and muttered something, then made a few gestures with her hands.

  “You gotta grab it with your feet,” Hobbs was saying. “You don’t have the upper body strength yet to get up there any other way.”

  Stanzi glared at the rope. “I know what I’m supposed to do, I’m just not doing it.”

  So, Stanzi was continuing her quest to climb to the top of the rope. With Hobbs. Rhett felt an odd twisting in his gut, even though it made sense. She’d obviously just done Hobbs’s class and had stayed after to work a skill. Rhett knew he should feel proud of her for not giving up—instead of whatever it was he was feeling. He shoved it aside and headed for the office, but at the last second, Stanzi caught his eye. To his surprise, she waved.

  Rhett walked over and stopped near the rope. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Getting in some skill work after class?”

  “Before class,” she corrected. “I’m doing the three o’clock.”

  “My class?” Rhett didn’t try to contain his surprise. She’d avoided him for weeks, and he’d done the same.

  “Yep.” She pushed her chin up and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Rhett bit back a smile. He tilted his head toward the top of the rope. “So get up there.”

  Stanzi’s bravado faltered. Her arms loosened and her lips parted. “We’ve been trying.” She glanced at Hobbs.

  “Get your feet hooked,” Hobbs said. “I’m going to go eat. I’m starving.” He shot Rhett a look that said, Fine, then. She’s all yours.

  Stanzi turned back to Rhett, looking helpless.

  “Well, go on.” Rhett nodded at the rope again. “You come in here to climb a rope, or what?” He looked down at her chest. “Did you wear that shirt just to talk shit?” As the weather had warmed, and her fitness had improved, Stanzi’s joggers had slimmed first to leggings, then to running shorts, and now to a pair of tight but tasteful bike shorts. Her shirts were still loose, but today the sleeves were gone, and she wore a loose-fitting tank top that read Don’t Give Up! Don’t Ever Give Up! with Jimmy Valvano’s signature in the center.

  Stanzi’s hand covered her chest, as if remembering what she wore.

  “Well? What’s it going to be? If you’re wearing a Jimmy V shirt, you better get your ass on that rope.”

  She glared at him, but grabbed the rope, drew in a deep breath and let it out with a gush.

  “Wait.” Rhett pulled the rope away from her. “Try jumping into it.”

  “What?”

  “Jump into it.” Rhett stepped back, jumped into the rope, caught it, hooked his feet and stood. He was more than halfway to the tape. He dropped down and released the rope. When he stepped back, he was careful not to limp so she wouldn’t see it.

  She eyed his leg suspiciously, but then turned back to the rope, drew another deep breath and jumped.

  “Hook your feet! Now!”

  Stanzi’s sneakers searched around the rope. Rhett stood nearby. The longer she took to grab it, the more tired her arms would get. She growled in frustration, ready to drop. Rhett steadied her hips, taking the bulk of the weight off her arms. “Grab it. Get as high as you can, as close to your hands as you can. Lean back.”

  This time, Stanzi hooked her feet into a successful J-hook. Her back was against his chest, using him for support. Her sweat smelled sweet. Flowery, but not overwhelming. The rosy smell made him think of Christmas Eve, and how she’d looked in that blue dress.

  “Now stand up,” Rhett ordered. “Stand up on the rope.” He moved away, not just to leave her to her own devices, but to avoid the unusual arousal that was rolling through him.

  Stanzi rose up, straightening her legs with a grunt.

  “Good,” Rhett said. “That’s one step. Now take another.”

  Stanzi hung there, flailing.

  “Don’t let go,” Rhett said. “Lean back, move your feet and hook again, as high up as you can manage. Don’t think about it, just do it.”

  She slid her feet up the rope, trying to hook it. She struggled and made a desperate, angry noise, but eventually got her feet secured.

  “Stand up!”

  Stanzi obeyed, and her body was now just shy of where she needed to be to touch that tape with an outstretched arm.

  “You’re almost there.” Rhett stood beneath her, in case she panicked and let go. He wasn’t afraid she’d fall, but she might shred her hands bailing down the rope. “One more hook, stand up and touch the tape! Let’s go!”

  Stanzi’s feet flailed again. She growled in frustration as her face flushed with her struggle. Her hands slipped a little, but she held on, stopping her slide.

  “Don’t you dare give up,” Rhett ordered. He planted his hands on his hips and stared up at her. “Who’s it going to be, Stanzi? You, or the rope? Only one of you is going to win this war.”

  She let out a roar of frustration, her biceps bulging as she clung to the rope like it dangled over an alligator pit.

  “You let go of that rope and I’m going to make you change that shirt before you work out.” Rhett circled around, ready to minimize her damage if she dropped, but he stood a foot away.

  Her cheeks got so pink it looked like she was wearing rouge, but Stanzi finally hooked her feet. She stood up, reached and her fingertips tapped a good six inches above the tape line.

  “That’s it!” Rhett barked. “You did it! C’mon, now, don’t celebrate yet. Scale down slow. Don’t let go and don’t slide. Ease on back down.”

  Stanzi rappelled as slowly as she could, but slid a little bit. Near the bottom, she jumped off and bent in half, hands on her knees, breath heavy and hard. She had a rope burn on her left shin and inside her right thigh, but when she raised her head, she beamed from ear to ear. She sighed and sank into a sumo squat.

  Rhett stopped in front of her and held out a hand. “Nice work, Stanzi.”

  She peeked up at him and accepted his high five with a sweaty smack. “I didn’t do it all myself,” she said. “You helped steady me for that first hook.”

  Rhett shrugged. “All I did was help you make the first step. Now your body knows what it should feel like and you can do it easier, when you’re not tired.”

  She nodded, her breath winding down as she gingerly poked at the burn on her shin.

  “Clean that off before the workout. So you don’t get cellulitis. The ropes are nasty.”

  Stanzi looked up, like she might say something, but her gaze went past him, toward the front door.

  Rhett turned. There, just inside the entrance, waving one hand and holding up his hoodie in the other...

  Katrina.

  twenty-six

  She wore a pair of red booty shorts that cupped her firm bottom and a tight white tank top that thrust her breasts up and together. Her long brown hair was brushed back into a perfect ponytail and she wore enough makeup to make Constance wonder if it would melt during the workout. She wrapped the hoodie around Rhett’s waist and attempted to tie it in the back, forcing her chest against his. He brushed her off a
nd tossed the hoodie on top of his duffel bag, which sat in the corner.

  Stanzi walked past them, toward the office. The first aid kit was in the top drawer of the desk; she’d seen several people get it out to use on torn hands from too many pull-ups.

  “Oh, hi.” Katrina waggled her fingers at Constance as she walked past. Her nails were painted red today. “Matilda, right?”

  Constance didn’t even look her way. “That’s right,” she called over her shoulder. “You can call me Tillie.”

  “That’s not her name,” she heard Rhett say.

  Constance smiled at Hobbs, who was chewing the last of his sandwich and was giving her a thumbs-up. “Saw the end of the rope climb,” he said. “Heard Santos shouting and peeked out. Good work, Red.”

  “Thank you.” She ripped open an antiseptic wipe and dabbed her thigh and shin. The sting felt good.

  Hobbs glanced out the door, in the direction of Rhett and Katrina, and shook his head. “You should celebrate.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. His biceps and pecs bulged. He swiveled around. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Potatoes.”

  Hobbs squinted. “What?”

  “Potatoes,” Constance repeated. “Mashed. Baked. Fried. In a soup. I don’t care what. I love potatoes.”

  “No.” Hobbs shook his head. “Your favorite food is Italian or Thai or—”

  “No. It’s potatoes.”

  Hobbs stood up and sighed. “Vodka. Your favorite food is vodka.”

  Constance nodded. “I see where this is going. Okay. An old-fashioned. My favorite food is an old-fashioned.”

  “What’s in that?”

  “Sugar is muddled with bitters and...” Constance suppressed a laugh at the look on Hobbs’s face. “Whiskey,” she said. “It’s whiskey.”

  “See?” Hobbs smiled his big, perfect smile. Constance’s mood lifted a little. Hobbs’s cheerful grin could perk up anybody. “That wasn’t so hard. Would you, Red—” he grabbed his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder “—like to join me later for an old-fashioned?”

  “Oh.” So Constance had not, in fact, seen where this was going. It’d been so long since she’d flirted she’d missed Hobbs’s obvious impending segue into asking her out, and merely thought they were talking about food. Slick. She stammered at first. The word around the gym was that Hobbs liked women. As in, all the women. The more he could charm, the better. Not the type Constance went for. She caught sight of Rhett and Katrina, standing near the whiteboard. Katrina kept stepping into his personal space. Rhett would retreat, and she’d follow.

  “Is anyone else coming?” Constance turned back to Hobbs.

  “Like who?” Hobbs’s smile had an amused tinge. He peeked out of the office. “Like Rhett?”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Constance said quickly. “I wasn’t sure if it was a group thing or...” She tried to shrug it off but the awkwardness hung like a cloud.

  “It’s okay, Red.” Hobbs stood up and clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I know when I’ve been beat.” He glanced at Rhett again. “Lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered.

  After he left, Stanzi stood there, her face flushed and her stomach doing flip-flops. She considered heading home for a nap. The workout today was going to be intense: seven rounds for time, with each round consisting of ten power cleans, ten push-ups and ten calories on the rower. Plus the dreaded running Callahan had mentioned—eight hundred meters at the start. All she had to look forward to was getting crushed by Katrina, who would look gorgeous the entire time she was doing it.

  Rhett caught her eye and waved her over to the growing circle. The clock read 3:00 p.m.

  Constance remembered she was wearing Daddy’s old Jimmy V shirt, drew a deep breath and joined the group.

  “Couple of changes,” Rhett was saying by the time she got there. He uncapped a dry erase marker, erased “10 power cleans” with a swipe of his finger and wrote “5 snatches,” leaving the weight at 115 for men and 95 for women. People groaned. Katrina’s face crumpled into a glare.

  Constance perked up a little. Snatches almost made running seem bearable.

  At the bottom of the workout, Rhett wrote, “Buy out: 1 rope climb.”

  His gaze connected briefly with Constance.

  “Rope climbs?” somebody said. “The workout you put online last night didn’t have rope climbs. I didn’t wear my long socks.”

  “And I’m wearing shorts,” somebody else whined. “I like leggings for rope climbs.”

  Rhett raised his voice above the din. “Complainers,” he said, “you know where your car is.” He pointed at the parking lot. The room went quiet. “Part of general preparedness is being able to adapt to and overcome what you’re not prepared for. I don’t care if you don’t have pants, socks, body armor or a gas mask with you today—you can still execute a rope climb.”

  The room tittered.

  “And I don’t care if you hate snatching.” His gaze went briefly to Katrina. “If any part of this workout is not doable, you are free to scale it, or go to Fitness Universe, just a five-minute drive away. They’re open twenty-four hours, have a juice bar and don’t care if you do rope climbs or eat doughnuts while you’re in the gym. Any questions?”

  The laughter intensified, then died off, though Katrina’s face remained stony.

  “Good.” Rhett clapped his hands together. “Let’s warm up.”

  Constance tried not to think about the run while she went through her air squats and push-ups. If she asked Rhett to row instead, she might as well go home. The snatches and rope climb caught her eye while passing the whiteboard during warm-ups. If she made it through the run, she got to do snatches at a weight and rep scheme that was challenging or impossible for most of the women here but was easy for her, as well as see if she could do another rope climb, especially while exhausted. This workout both terrified and thrilled her.

  Constance wondered if Rhett had known that all along.

  Once he’d gone through the snatch warm-up and demonstrated the standards and scaling options for all the movements, everyone began loading up their barbells. Constance warmed up slowly, but once the weight was on her bar, she felt confident she could do five in a row, seven times. Katrina had the prescribed weight on her bar, too. Constance overheard Rhett suggesting she scale back ten pounds, but Katrina insisted she would be fine.

  Constance had heard arguments like this before, and Rhett always won. Mostly, they consisted of the athlete telling Rhett that he would be fine, followed by Rhett telling the athlete to demonstrate a few reps for him to observe. Once that was done, Rhett would say, “Like I said, strip ten pounds.” Today, when Katrina argued, Rhett shrugged at her and said, “Suit yourself.”

  Katrina rolled her bar so that she was directly in front of Constance. “You okay with that weight, Tillie?” She raised her eyebrows at Constance’s barbell.

  “Yep.” Constance sounded braver than she felt.

  “Aren’t you kind of new to this?” Katrina looked Constance up and down.

  Constance resisted the urge to cover all the places on her body that weren’t as perfect as Katrina’s. “Almost five months. Snatch just comes naturally to me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Katrina turned away.

  Once Rhett told everyone to gather outside the bay door for the two laps around the building, Katrina spent a few minutes putting on her wrist wraps. Even though Constance knew Rhett was growing impatient, she used Katrina’s intentional slowness to gather her own courage as she headed outside. The chatter and nervous energy of the group became like white noise as Constance stepped into the soft spring wind.

  The sky was bright and the air smelled clean, like daffodils and March wind. New growth. This was a day not unlike the one last year, when she’d gone to the park to surprise Josh on his run, and Constance had been
the one to be surprised instead. She remembered thinking how dainty and cute his new companion was, all decked out in a pink tank top the color of roses and tiny shorts that showcased skinny legs, complete with thigh gap. At the time, Constance had wanted to look like her. Slender. Toned. Obviously in charge of her weight, her body. Now, the memory of Josh’s new running partner was different. The picture Constance had in her mind’s eye was more breakable. The woman seemed less in charge and more like a damsel in distress, which was something Constance had never wanted to be.

  She barely heard Rhett count down to one and yell go. The last thing Constance remembered was Katrina, her lips in a sneer as she shoved her way in front, leaning forward like she was on a starting block. What happened next was one of those things Constance didn’t understand until she ran it through her mind later. She took off, not quite at a sprint but maybe two notches under, knocking Katrina out of her way with a well-placed shoulder check. Like a hound that’s found a scent, Constance’s feet just kept pumping as she tore around the building. She heard nothing. She saw nothing but her target: two laps around the gym and then back inside.

  By the time she was at her barbell, Constance was shocked to see that Rhett was the only other person in the building. That meant she’d beaten everyone else inside. He stood there, arms crossed, a smile on one corner of his mouth before he shouted over the music, “What’re you standing there for? Pick that shit up!”

  With Eminem’s “Till I Collapse” booming from the speakers, Constance snapped to, set herself up in a proper starting position and pulled her first snatch. She dropped beneath the bar with ease.

  “Keep up the good form,” Rhett said, stepping closer. “You’re going to get tired, but don’t sacrifice good form for speed, even though you’re going for speed, too.”

  Clear as mud, but Constance knew what he meant. She’d spent enough time in barbell class, as well as the high-intensity conditioning classes, that she knew both sides of this coin. She pulled another snatch, this one feeling just as good.