Wesley

The next morning, I come armed with supplies. Strawberries, bananas, and apples fill the grocery bag in my arms.

“What’s all this?” Anna asks, her voice still scratchy with sleep. She looks better today, her eyelids less swollen, the bruises under her eyes less noticeable. And she already has her tennis shoes on.

I hold up a pint of strawberries and bundle of bananas. “I’ll make you a smoothie when we finish.”

“I do love strawberry-banana smoothies.”

“I know; I remember.” I remember everything about Anna.

I make myself useful and put the fruit in a bowl on the counter. Then, I throw away the bag.

“You didn’t have to bring me fruit.” She looks down, her cheeks flushing with…I’m not sure. Embarrassment?

“All part of my payment for your labor. You really helped me last night. I’m hoping you’ll come back even though I can’t afford to pay you.”

“It was no problem. I’ll gladly be your official sander and stainer or painter. Just keep me away from the power tools.”

“Deal.”

We make our way out of her apartment. I lead her to the side of the building and stretch my legs, happy when she joins me. She steadies herself against the stone wall and stretches her quads, grimacing slightly.

“You okay?”

“I’m sore, but it actually feels kind of good. Like my muscles are reminding me of their existence.”

I lean into a few more stretches, giving her time to stretch, too.

And then we’re off.

I hold back, matching my pace to Anna’s, letting her decide how fast we go. After a few minutes, our steps sync up. She’s winded, but she steadies her breathing as best she can, and when it looks like she’s struggling, I tell her I need a water break.

We don’t talk much, but it’s comfortable silence.

I hope the fresh early morning air and exercise does her body good as well as her mind.

When we make it back to her apartment, she collapses on her living room floor, panting, while I blend two strawberry-banana smoothies for us.

“I’m dead,” she pronounces. “And you aren’t even out of breath.”

I chuckle. “I’ve been running since I started running with you.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You never stopped?”

“Told you, you got me addicted.”

Her face is sweaty and flushed, but still, I long to lean down and kiss her. Instead, I hand her the smoothie.

She sits up, takes a big sip, and moans. “This is so good.”

Fuck, if this is her response, I’ll make her one every day. Except running shorts don’t camouflage erections very well.

I turn to pour the rest of the smoothie into a plastic cup for myself, then rinse the blender. “I gotta run, but I’ll be back tonight, okay? Plan to just eat dinner with us.”

“I can just meet you there, you know. You don’t have to come and get me.”

I’m afraid she’ll skip if I leave it up to her to come.

I nod, studying her. “Okay. But, if you’re late, I’m coming to get you.”

“Slave. Driver.”

I laugh and head to the door. “See you later, Anna.”

Anna

“Wow, I’m so glad you called. That must have been really hard for you.” Katie, my therapist, looks at me with kind eyes, her brows knitted together in concern.

“Talking to him was stupid; I realize that now. I just…thought he might be able to hear my apology.”

“Are you still in love with Charlie?”

It’s the second time someone has asked me that this week, and my answer is sure. “No, it’s not that. I’d just feel so much better if he accepted my apology.”

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

“But him accepting your apology isn’t going to change the past.”

I’m not sure where she’s going with this. “Well, of course not, but I handled things so poorly with him. I know I don’t deserve his forgiveness, but I want it all the same.”

“What about Wesley?”

I blink at the subject change. “What about Wesley?”

“He seems to care for you a lot. Checking on you, running with you, bringing you healthy foods. He seems to be a good influence.”

“He’s…” I try to describe what I feel for Wes, but it’s hard to put into words.

He’s been such a big part of my life for so long. Even when he was in prison, he was still there with his letters. And, now, he’s one of the only people who looks at me like I’m not broken. He makes me feel safe.

“He’s my friend.” Somehow, the word doesn’t do our relationship justice.

“And you don’t want anything more?”

I think of how he wakes up my body like no one else has. How I’d love nothing more than to bury myself in his arms and forget about the rest of the world.

“Once upon a time, I wanted everything with him. But now? I’m a bit of a basket case.”

Wesley deserves so much more than me.

She chuckles. “Your words, not mine.”

I shrug.

“I’m glad you realize this might not be the best time to start a relationship, but friendship is good. Exercise is good. Keeping busy and eating healthy are all steps in the right direction. Keep doing these things.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Now, you’re not going to like what I have to say next.” She leans forward.

Great. “Just spit it out.”

“You have to come to terms with the fact that Charlie might never accept your apology,” she says gently, eyes kind while she delivers this blow.

“You’re right. I just…I don’t want to hate myself anymore,” I whisper, wishing I weren’t so close to tears.

“It’s tiresome work, isn’t it?”

I nod. God, it is tiresome.

“Have you considered that, instead of Charlie’s forgiveness, what you really need is to forgive yourself?”

I immediately shake my head.

“Just hear me out.”

I’ll never forgive myself, no matter what she says.

“I know we’ve been through this before, but you called me for a reason. I think you want to make a change, right?”

I tug on my necklace and nod.

“Just humor me then, and let’s go through the root of the problem. You did something that goes against your principles. Am I correct in saying that?”

“Yes.”

“So, now, you’re floundering because you chose to do something that doesn’t coincide with who you think you are at your core. Your self-identity is in shambles.”

I blink.

“Good person versus bad person.”

Okay, maybe I’m following. I nod.

“But have you stopped to consider if you like who you are now?”

My wheels are turning, trying to follow where she’s going with this. So what if I like who I am now? It doesn’t change what I did.

“You can’t ever go back and get a do-over. But you have complete control over the choices you make right now. Do you like the choices you’re making right now?”

My brows furrow. What am I really choosing right now?

“I have a homework assignment for you to complete before our next session.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to make three choices you’re proud of, write them down, and bring them in to show me next time. Three choices that make you feel good about yourself.”

Three. Yikes, that’s a lot. What could I do that I’m proud of?

She must see the overwhelmed expression on my face because she adds, “They don’t have to be big, life-altering decisions. One can be to choose to go running—something like that.”

Deciding to run again was pretty life-altering, but I get what she means.

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Three things I’m proud of. I can do that.”