The kids groaned but understood. We said our goodbyes, and then I yanked out my earbuds, tossing my phone onto the bed and walking to the lobby to see the guys engaged in an intense poker game. The Maddox twins were winning—as usual.

“You working out tonight?” Jubal asked. He was standing next to the round table watching everyone lose their money to the Maddoxes. If he didn’t have such a weird name we could’ve come up with a better nickname for our captain, like Hollywood or Silver Fox. He crossed his arms, his silver hair and tan skin made him look like a damn GQ model. He’d been married to the same woman for years, and they had a few equally beautiful children. I tried not to hate him because he was such a good guy. Maybe that was why no one wanted to give him a nickname. That, and Jubal was just fun to say.

“Of course he is,” Tyler said, still staring at his cards. “He always does after he talks to his parents.”

“You want some company?” Jubal asked.

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “The gym here is the size of a closet anyway.”

“Oh, sorry then. It’s time for me to workout too,” Jubal said.

“Right,” I grumbled.

He followed me down the far hall to the very end. There was one machine, a chin-up bar, one treadmill, a few bands and mismatched free weights, but I’d make it work.

Jubal was true to his word. After fifty-five minutes, he didn’t say a word while sweat poured down my face and dripped off my nose onto the floor, my arms shaking. I growled as I pushed my body up from the floor. I’d ran, I’d worked every muscle until my body begged for mercy, and then I’d kept going.

After all that, I couldn’t shake her. Naomi was mean, crass, and not my type at all. She was the complete opposite of Becca, who was tall, her limbs long and elegant. Becca looked more like a ballerina, and Naomi could probably kick my ass. I was ready to get back on the mountain. The fire line would fill the parts of my mind focusing on Naomi.

My arms stalled halfway, shaking under the weight of my torso.

“Hey!” Jubal yelled.

I fell on my face and rolled onto my back, panting. “What?” I snapped.

“Don’t overdo it, Zeke. We have a full day tomorrow.”

“Good.”

He tossed over a towel, and I used it to wipe my face. My t-shirt was soaked on both sides, my back was already cooling off, wet against the fabric and the floor mat.

“I’m glad I don’t have to remind you to sanitize the equipment, because you sweat the most,” he teased.

“Because I workout the most,” I said.