"He's not very old, is he?" Matilda asks when I re-enter the treatment room.
"Who?" I ask as I try to remember which stretch we left off on.
"The hockey player."
"Twenty-one."
"Young," she says with a knowing smile. "You two?" She waggles her finger as though Logan is in the room and she's toggling back and forth between us.
"Oh, no. No. I've been working for the Bullets. With physio. Training. That sort of thing. That's why he's here." I position her into the next stretch and count in my head as she holds it.
"And after?" A sneaky grin appears. "A different sort of training after hours, I think."
My cheeks are on fire, and I shake my head. "It's not—" 
"Good for you," she says, squeezing my upper arm with her free hand. "Good for you. I never liked Dalton Worthington. He didn't get my vote. Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."
Is it? I want to ask, but I don't. Of course I've had breakups before, but this one is different. I've been heartbroken or defiant or indifferent, but I've never felt so lost.
"A man who's good with kids, especially adorable shitheads like my little Benji, is a good man. You hear his voice—" she points at the wall that separates the treatment room from the workout space "—not stressed about being left with him at all. Anyone who's good with kids or animals is a winner. My ex? Not good with either. I saw the signs." She grimaces. "I saw them."
"Why do you think," I struggle for the right words as I get her into the second last stretch, "when we see it, we don't believe it?"
"We don't want to believe it. Who wants to think about being in love with someone who doesn't deserve our love? No one. We readjust those rose-colored glasses until we have no choice but to take them off."
I run my hand over the back of my head, at the place where the bump seemed to linger for so long, tender, unseen by anyone else. 
"I don't know how you trust your instincts again," I murmur.
"I'd love to tell you, but I can't. Whatever made me pick Benji's father seems to keep leading me to other losers who seem like winners at first. It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is. If you figure it out, let me in on the secret."
"Still single, so..." I give a little shrug.
"No harm in a younger rebound. No strings attached. Get your groove back. I'm all for it. The photos probable don't do him justice."
"Seriously, it's not—"
"I'm not judging." She holds up her one available hand. "If I could land a man twenty years younger than me, I'd go for it too."
"He's only—" 
"Mom!" Benji's voice is loud against the door. "Mom? We go home?"
"I tried to keep him away," Logan says, and his tone is mild resignation. 
I really, really hope these rooms are more soundproof than I know they are. 
"Do you think he heard that?" Matilda asks in a loud whisper.
"Yeah," Logan says from the other side of the door. "He heard it. For the record, she's only ten years older than me."
Matilda looks as red in the face as I feel when I crack open the door. 
"Just to be clear, Sawyer's also the only woman I've got penciled into my calendar."
"I'm sure that's not—" I start to say.
"It's absolutely the truth." He leans against the doorframe as Matilda hurries out of the room, ushering Benji with her. "I'm dialed in."
"On training," I stress as Matilda heads toward the front door.
"Sure, on that too," Logan says with a grin.  
"I'll lock up," Bituin calls from the front desk. "If you've got plans."
I close my eyes and take a deep, centering breath. Regret over saying yes should be running through me, but I can't seem to call it up. I like being around him, but I can't help remembering the conversation I just had with Matilda where she lamented repeating the same patterns. 
What if I'm doing the same thing with Logan? Balanced on the edge of sacrificing myself for his wants and needs?
Sorry my posts have been a bit random the last couple of weeks. This winter where I live has felt like 5 years long this year, and I keep losing track of my days.
As a complete aside, has anyone watched Running Point on Netflix? I really enjoyed it.
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