“Finish up.” He pointed at the machine. “Twenty more minutes. I’m gonna go start my sets over there. Behave, and no quitting, or I’ll send Tony over to help encourage you.”

I perked up, swinging my head around, looking for Tony. He was lifting weights in the corner. “You can send Tony any day of the week. I’m okay with that. Have you seen that guy? His muscles shit muscles. He is so hot.”

“Atticus!”

I whipped my head back around to my brother. “Not hot! I’m sorry. I take it back. Please leave the bike on easy mode.”

He chuckled. “I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

“I’ll probably be on the floor under the machine. Napping. Or dead. Probably more like dead.”

He walked away, and the minute he was gone, I hit the kill switch and flopped over the front of the bike, my legs hanging like jelly on either side. Closing my eyes, I worked on catching my breath while everything in my body throbbed and screamed in agony.

And that was how Asher found me twenty minutes later.

Fast asleep.

“Only you can fall asleep at the gym while on the stationary bike.” He snapped a towel against my leg, and I jerked upright, almost tumbling off the other side. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go home.”

“Can’t … move. Leave me here to die.”

“Do you know what happens at the gym at night?”

“Do the ghosts of athletes past come out and haunt the place?”

“They do. Scores of them. And they make any lingering living souls train for a triathlon. If you don’t believe me, ask Jess at the front desk. It’s true.”

I peeked my eyes open. “A triathlon? That’s a running thing, right?”

“Running, biking, and swimming. Hence the tri part.”

“That sounds horrifying.”

“It is.”

“We should leave.”

“We should.”

“I’m not sure my legs will support me.”

“You’re fine. Come on.”

I fell-climbed off the bike and wobbled. Asher caught my elbow and shook his head, laughing as he guided me to the doors. “I’m not carrying you.”

“We could play damsel and knight. Fling me over your shoulder, oh brave one! Be my savior. You can do it.”

“Walk.”

I groaned and complied. As we passed the front desk, I skewered Jess with a squinty-eyed glare. “You tell your freak-ass ghosts they aren’t gonna get me. I will never do a triathlon. Ever.”

She frowned and flicked her gaze at Asher.

“Ignore him. He overexerted himself on the bike and is light-headed and delusional.”

“My legs hurt.”

“Walk.” He shoved me toward the door.