Below the Belt(80)

“That’s hardly what’s important.” Worry bled through the phone line, and he hated giving her even a second of concern. “Your health is the important thing. Making sure after this is all over that you’re healthy enough to walk. Is it bad?”

“If it was bad, I wouldn’t still be here. They’d have sent me home. It’s really not that bad. I’ve got a doctor, a physical therapist and a trainer watching over me. Plus the coach.”

“Well, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. This is important to me.” He flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“It was important to your father, too. But it wasn’t the only thing he had going on, you know. He had you and your brother. And me, naturally. We were his world, and running was just a small, satisfying corner piece of the total puzzle. We were the big picture.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and it was almost as if Brad could see a family portrait of them, as they had been right before his father had died. Smiling out from a puzzle that had the edges covered in their hobbies. His brother’s baseball, his boxing . . . The image made him smile.

“That was deep, Mom.”

“Uh-huh.” Her sarcasm came through loud and clear. “Ready for something else deep? I need you to think about what you want your big picture to look like. Your love of boxing is great, and I get it. And your desire to do this for your father is beautiful. But it’s not what defines you. What’s your big picture, Bradley?”

“I love you, Mom.” He wanted to tell her then, right then, that he’d already ruined his big picture. Marianne was finished with him—three unanswered, unreturned calls said that much loud and clear. So now what? His puzzle was just a bunch of edge pieces, with no middle?

“I love you too, Brad. Now, tell me more about boxing. Have you kicked anyone’s ass lately?”

“Mom.” He couldn’t help but laugh, even as his eyes burned from resisting tears.

Ten minutes later, as he hung up the phone, he heard Higgs come in through the shared common door. After a minute, Brad went over and knocked on his door. Higgs answered with a clipped, “Come in.”

“Hey.” As Brad leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, he realized this was the first time he’d come to Higgs’ room, rather than the other way around. Had he been so closed off he hadn’t even approached his own roomie once? “What’s up?”

“I was just meeting my group for dinner. So.” Tossing his backpack on the desk, Higgs watched him. “You missed yoga. Hot date?”

“I think my days of hot dates are over.” He hesitated, then walked in and sat at the desk chair, much as Higgs had done in Brad’s room numerous times before. Made himself at home. That’s what friends did. “Cook’s done with me.”

“Women,” Higgs scoffed. “They just can’t get over it when a guy lies to them. How weird.”

“Okay, *, if you’re gonna be cute, I’ll just head to my own room.” Brad started to stand, but sat back down when his friend laughed. “Not funny,” he grumbled.

“It’s hilarious. Grandpa, Mr. I Work Alone, gets dumped by the hottie trainer the minute he realizes he doesn’t actually want to work alone. Yeah . . . that’s irony.” Stretching out on the bed, Higgs grinned. “So what’s the plan?”

“Plan . . .” Not following, Brad rested his good leg on the corner of the bed. “Uh, don’t get cut?”

“Oh, boy. You suck at this.” Roommate sighed and rolled his eyes. “I mean the plan to get hottie Cook back. You’re not telling me you’re just going to let her walk, are you? Because I didn’t think you were an idiot, but maybe I was wrong.”

“I didn’t think you were deaf, but maybe I was wrong. She dumped me. There is no plan.”

“I’m sorry, are you actually taking ‘no’ for an answer? What the hell kind of Marine are you?” Higgs actually looked offended at the possibility that Brad was accepting the situation as-is. “When the woman you love walks away, you run after her.”

“That sounds like an awful plan. Chasing after a woman?”

“You’re not chasing after her.” Higgs closed his eyes for a moment, as if in a bid for patience. “Have you never seen a chick flick before? The guy always f*cks up, and then he does something spectacular to win the girl back.”

“Big fan of the chick flick, are you?” Brad smirked.

“I’m a big fan of keeping the girl I’m with—whoever she happens to be that week—satisfied.”

Brad rolled his eyes at the implied gigolo status.

“That has meant, on occasion, downing a tub of movie popcorn while seeing the selection of her choice. Side note . . . women who just got done watching a good romance are usually ready for some loving of their own.”

“Stop. Just stop.”

Higgs grinned and laced his hands behind his head. “Fine, be a prude. That’s not the point. The point is, you’re not running after her. Think of the drills we run. We’re all in a line, jogging at a pretty moderate pace, then guy in the back sprints up front to . . .”

“Get in front of the line,” Brad answered slowly, entirely unsure where this metaphor was heading.