This guy is literally everywhere I turn.

And now I was jealous of a dead guy. I had issues. Clearly. The snoop in me wanted to open the box. I wanted to see what it was that she kept boxed up and within arm’s reach at all times. I wanted to take it and throw it out. I wanted him to have never had the part of her that I was trying so hard to get for myself.

This was uncharted territory for me. I was in a race that I wasn’t sure I could win. I felt like I wanted to give up and, judging from the tightness in my chest, my heart was saying the same thing. This is exactly why I didn’t do relationships. They were complicated and messy and someone was bound to get their heart broken. It was seeming more and more like it was going to be me.

Fuck this.

Georgia was clearly not ready to move on with me. How could she be when she was still in love with someone else? My heart broke for her when I thought of her situation. I was compassionate to a point. The point being: he was gone and I was here. I was the one living and breathing and trying to give her a part of me that I had never given to anyone else.

I left her house that day and went straight to physical therapy. After changing into some gym clothes I’d tossed in a bag in the backseat of my truck, I channeled my frustration into the hardest workout I’d put my knee through yet. I lifted and pressed and jogged until I felt each muscle burn and throb and beg for me to quit. If I wasn’t going to make any progress with Georgia, then I’d focus on getting back to riding. I’d focus on moving on with my life, even if she wasn’t a part of it.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Will insisted when he’d come into the training center for his shift. I wasn't even on the schedule that morning. I had managed to charm my way into an open session by sweet talking the receptionist. Who was cute enough that had I not been so consumed with my Georgia situation, I probably would have convinced her to meet me in an empty closet or at least head out to the parking lot for a little backseat action. I’d forgotten what it was even like for things to be simple and easy. Ever since Georgia had walked into the picture I’d become soft. I’d become that guy who pines over a girl that he’s not even sure he can have. I’d become Reid.

Son of a bitch.

“I’m good,” I said, brushing off Will’s concern.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Sallinger,” he said, channeling his inner baseball coach. “They said you’ve been in here for over two hours. Your knee isn’t ready for that. So unless you want to forget about getting back on a bike I suggest you throw in the towel.”

“Fine,” I huffed, turning off the treadmill. “My knee feels fine. I know my limits.”

“I know you do,” he said, handing me a towel. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “But this is why they pay me the big bucks,” he added, trying to coax some civility out of me.

“I guess they do.” A slight smile cracked my lips, but that was the best I could do. I walked over to the bench where I’d stashed my water bottle and grabbed it up. If I couldn’t work out here, I could at least go back to the cabin and continue on my own.

“Everything okay?” Will had followed behind me. Couldn’t he see I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation?

“Yep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “I’m a physical therapist which is not the kind of therapist you seem to need today. Just don’t let whatever is going on inside your head get in the way of what you’re trying to do for your body.”

“I know. I won’t,” I assured him. His concern was thoughtful. Maybe I had overworked it but it was hard for me to just sit idling with my thoughts all over the place. I’d always had a dirt bike to be my therapist. Lost a race? Ride. Got in a fight? Ride. Girl problems? Ride. It was all I knew and not having my stress relieving stand by to fall back on, I didn’t know what else to do. “I’ll even take tomorrow off if it will get you off my back,” I said, rousing him with a snap of my towel.

“That’d be good,” he said with a smile as he jumped out of the way of my towel snap. “Don’t forget you need rest just as much as you need PT.”

“You got it, boss.” I saluted as I backed out of the door. I couldn’t fault the guy for doing his job. I felt bad for taking my frustration out on him. The person I should have been directing my frustration toward was not in that gym. No. She was texting me from her college campus letting me know that her test had gone well. I pulled my phone from my pocket and thought about calling her. I thought about confessing that I’d found her stash of Jamie memorabilia and that I was seriously concerned with whether or not I was wasting my time. But, I didn’t. I needed to think about what I wanted to say to her when I saw her on Tuesday.

Me: Good job!

That was all I had.

“It’s so good to see you, Georgia,” Iris Shaw said when I walked into her kitchen on Sunday. I’d let myself in the front door knowing that I’d find her slaving away over a meal. The same meal that she served the last Sunday of every month. “It’s Jamie’s favorite,” Iris would remind us all as she served the meal. It was nearing one o’clock which meant the rest of the Shaw clan would be arriving soon. Everyone taking a pause from their normal lives to placate Iris. I knew I was doing the same thing each and every time I showed up.

I’ll never forget the weekend I told her I might not make it. My sister had asked me if I wanted to take a last minute shopping trip to the mall a few towns over. You would have thought I was telling Iris I was going shopping with Satan.

“Nora knows that we have a standing dinner date every last Sunday of the month,” she said. “Can’t you go shopping another weekend?” So I did. I told my sister I couldn’t go and ate dinner with the Shaws’ instead. Exactly like I was about to do now.

“You too,” I said, walking around the kitchen island where she was chopping lettuce for a salad and placing it into a bowl. Salad, lasagna, garlic bread, pecan pie. Every single time. I don’t know how many times I wanted to tell Iris that Jamie had lots of favorite foods. He was more than just lasagna, but I never did. I never said anything to Iris about Jamie, other than what she wanted to hear, because I knew she was barely holding on as it was. He was the youngest of three. Her baby.

As terrible as my loss was, I couldn’t imagine what she went through or what she was still going through. No parent should ever have to bury her child.

“Derek isn’t going to make it today,” she said. Derek was Jamie’s oldest brother. “He’s busy with work. Some big case coming up and he doesn’t have time to make the drive,” she explained. Derek was an attorney who lived in St. Louis. “Can you believe that he couldn’t spare one afternoon for his mother?” she said, coating the aggravation in her tone with a laugh.

“I’m sure he’d be here if he could,” I replied, but I knew the truth. Derek didn’t want to come back for the monthly mourning session. We kept in touch—the occasional email or text. It wasn’t that Derek didn’t love and miss his brother, it was that he had a hard time reliving all of the emotions that came along with losing him. We all did.

“I miss him, G,” he’d told me the last time I’d seen him. “I really do, but this,” he said, referring to the Sunday dinners, “this is too much. He wouldn’t want us all sitting around crying over him and it’s really hard not to when we have to watch my mom fall apart over and over again.”

“I think she needs this,” I told him. “I feel like she doesn’t know what else to do.”