Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(16)

Clarabell returned looking like the cat that ate the canary, and I knew she’d heard every word. “Chocolate chip pancakes for Shelby. And an egg white, pepper, and mushroom omelet for George.”

I tried not to gag looking at his plate. “What the heck happened to your usual tower of waffles with a side of six plates of bacon?”

It was GT’s turn to wince. “Stepped on the scale a few days ago.”

“And?”

“And it broke.”

I snorted out a laugh and reached for my water.

“I’m working with your roomie on some weight loss goals.”

“You look great, and you’re happy,” I reminded him. “There’s no need for you to stay in playing shape.”

He leaned in. “I know you don’t want to hear about my sex life. But if I gain another ten pounds, June will be in danger of being suffocated.”

I choked on my pancake, turning bright red until Millie Waggle jumped up and smacked me between the shoulder blades. The pancake went down, but the pain in my back exploded. “Thanks, Millie,” I rasped. She was a few years younger than me, but she dressed like she was going to a church bazaar every day. I didn’t know what her religious beliefs were, but the woman could bake absolutely sinful desserts.

“Anytime, Shelby,” she said cheerfully before tottering back to her table.

“Well, speaking of being physically fit,” I told him, “I did it. I signed up.”

GT reached across the table for a high-five, his hand engulfing mine. “Seriously? That’s awesome! Is Jonah going to help you train? He’s a smart guy. Knows his shit. A triathlon’s a big deal. You can’t just half-ass it.”

“I’ve already started my research.”

He snorted. “Shelby, there’s a hell of a lot more work than just research that goes into an event like that. Speaking of research, how’s your survey going?”

“First of all, the survey is great. As of this morning, I’ve had almost eighty responses, thanks to the Breakfast Club badgering everyone to fill it out. Secondly, it’s not an Ironman. It’s a normal person triathlon. They call it a sprint triathlon. It’s going to be great.” Exercise therapy was supposed to become an important part of my life now. While the idea of regular PT appointments bored me to death, the challenge of an event that I had to study up on, train for? That was my kind of jam.

“What are we high-fiving?” Leah Mae, pretty as always in a cute pink button-down and those fashionable high-waisted jeans, slid in next to me.

“Hello.” June, my brother’s girlfriend and the woman he was worried about squishing, appeared at his elbow. GT lit up like a Christmas tree, and it made my heart sing. This was better than any victory he’d had on the field. That kind of bone-deep happiness I felt radiating off him every time he looked in June’s serious green eyes. I adored her for making my brother so happy.

He pulled June down next to him and laid a PG-13 kiss on her. “This is a nice surprise,” he said, sliding back.

“Yes. It is. Leah Mae is pleased with the progress on the renovations at the shop, and we were both hungry,” June explained.

“JuneBug, Leah Mae, y’all want your usuals?” Clarabell called.

“Yes, ma’am,” Leah Mae said.

“That’s a silly question,” June said with a small frown. Deviations from routine were baffling to her.

“Back to what we’re high-fiving,” Leah Mae said, scooting in closer to me.

“My little sister here just signed up for her first triathlon,” GT said proudly.

I hadn’t been an athletic kid. I’d spent more time falling out of trees than climbing them. There had been entire semesters of gym class when I’d prayed the volleyball would never come near me. It was out of character for me to throw myself into an athletic endeavor. Especially one this competitive. But it was just the kind of project I needed to turn the focus away from the limitations of a diagnosis and onto the possibilities of a life.

Well, that’s what I told myself every time I started to get anxious about it.

“That’s so exciting,” Leah Mae approved.

“Why would you do that?” June asked, legitimately confused.

June’s bluntness was one of my favorite things about her. She wasn’t tethered to social norms like the rest of us. And there was something refreshing about her reactions.

“I know. I’m not the athletic type. But I need to do something besides sit on my butt and write a dissertation. I want to work toward something with measurable goals that will keep me focused on the prize.” I had no visions of grandeur of an age group medal. But I did want to finish. Even if I crawled across the finish line. I wanted to do it under my own power. If I could tackle something as big as a triathlon, the other challenge I faced would be manageable.

“Is Jonah going to help train you?” Leah Mae asked. “It’s so convenient that y’all are living under one roof.”

“I don’t think Jonah is looking for any new clients,” I said diplomatically.

“He still thinks she’s a reporter,” GT explained.

“Why don’t you simply cease your falsehood?” June asked.

“It’s kind of more fun watching him be all puffed up and mad over nothing.” It sounded just a little stupid when I explained it.