Below the Belt(59)

“I can imagine.” Kara brushed at her own yoga pants, which molded perfectly to her long legs. “And I suppose something tighter—”

“Wouldn’t be appropriate for the training room,” Marianne finished. “If I’m not doing yoga, I shouldn’t be wearing yoga pants. How’s Zach?”

Kara’s eyes clouded. “Another week, another late call from the sperm donor. He’s crushed, and pretending not to be, which is almost as heartbreaking as if he’d just had a good cry on my lap. But he’s ‘too old’ for that now.” She used quote fingers for emphasis. “He’s got Man of the House complex and thinks everything is on him. We had a leaking sink—just a drip. I was going to go out and buy a new washer to replace it, but he was convinced he had to do it himself.”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It was still down, flowing beautifully around her shoulders, though Marianne knew she’d tie it up with the hair tie around her wrist once their class started. “Part of me wants to be proud he’s reacting so maturely, and the other half wants to shake him and say, You’re still a kid, so act like it. Get in trouble, get dirty, come home late.”

“Ah, all the things I would have loved to hear as a child.” Marianne sighed wistfully. “He’ll be okay. He’s got you to watch over him. Any word on the egg test?”

“Failed,” Kara said simply, crumpling her lunch bag. Marianne didn’t push. Allergies were rough for her to handle. Not as the mom, because Kara managed to go with the flow on all her son’s dietary restrictions. But Marianne knew, with every failed allergy test, she hurt for her son. The more restricted his diet, the more difficult it was for him to have normal experiences in everything from birthday parties to a simple afternoon snack at a friend’s house.

Reagan Robilard walked by at that moment, did a double take and knocked on the door frame. “Okay if I come in?”

Marianne waved her in. Today, Reagan wore kitten heels, which made Marianne shake her head. But they were paired with simple tan pants and a button-down shirt with more airy cap sleeves. The look was still business-appropriate, without being as stuffy. Definitely more comfortable for the hot, humid gym.

“Good timing.” Marianne introduced Reagan to Kara. “Kara here is leading the guys in some yoga before the afternoon practice.”

“Pilates today, actually.” Kara stretched her legs out on the table. “Coach Ace called yesterday and asked if I could handle the switch. Said he wanted to show the guys some moves so they could work on them at home.”

Reagan rubbed her hands together. “Perfect! I’ll take some photos to have ready. Marines doing yoga and Pilates? Gold mine for good press.” When Kara blinked, Reagan explained, “I’m the team liaison.”

“Oh.” Kara said it simply, though Marianne could tell her friend had no clue what all that encompassed. “Well, if you want to stick around, that’s fine. You could join in, too, if you wanted.”

Reagan looked down, then back up with a smile. “I think I’ll pass this time. Maybe with some extra warning.” She waved and headed out again.

“She’s going to break an ankle,” Kara said.

“Yup.”

“Have you warned her about that?”

“Yup.”

“Given her the ‘High Heels Ruin Feet’ pamphlet?”

“Offered.”

“Guess it’s on her, then.”

“Yup.”


*

AS Marianne made the rounds at the back of the room, adjusting positions along with Kara’s directions, she passed by Coach Willis. “By my count, we’re down two Marines. What happened?”

“Ambrois went home this afternoon. Tapped out himself.”

“Oh.” She made a mental note to hand his file to Coach Ace after practice so he could include it with the final paperwork. “And Costa?” she asked, praying her voice sounded casual.

If Coach Willis thought it was odd she didn’t know where her own boyfriend was, he didn’t act like it. “Said he had a dental appointment that couldn’t wait. Toothache or something. He’ll be around later.”

“Right, okay. Sure.” Coach Willis moved on without another word, and she breathed a sigh of relief she’d escaped that without any questioning stares.

But why hadn’t Brad texted her to say as much? That’s what people in a relationship did, right? They told each other things like, “Hey, won’t see you later, got a dentist appointment.” Even with something that benign, he had to know she’d wonder.

A Marine torquing his spine in a dangerous position forced her mind back to the present. “Whoa there. That’s not the way.”

She pushed Brad from her mind and focused on the task at hand. She could handle twenty Marines now, and one Marine later.


*

BRAD stared at the handout on his lap. “Exactly what does a torn meniscus mean?”

“It’s a guess, not an official diagnosis. We’d need an MRI for that, and we can’t do one until the day after tomorrow. But between feeling the click just now and hearing your symptoms . . .” The doctor sat down on his stool to scribble a few notes. “It’s fairly textbook. If it were an ACL tear, I’d be more concerned. But the meniscus might be rehabable without surgery.”