Chapter 3 shrugs as he stops

like this. Damn, that’s going to cost us another hundred dollars.” I find my mouth twitching. “I hate her,” the woman growls. I hadn't cared much about her when she was my brother's girlfriend, and I certainly don't care about her now. "Me too." Chapter 3 Does refusing to do cardio count as resistance training? -Callum to Ace Callum “I don’t know why we’re doing this,” my brother grumbles for the fifteenth time. “I barely work from home.” I look at Banks and then back to the road. “You're doing this because I asked you to, and your stomach is starting to look a little saggy in the middle,” I tease. Ace, my older brother, snorts from his seat next to me. Banks, my twin brother and older brother by two and three-quarters of a minute, looks at me from the backseat like I'm smoking meth right in front of him. “Look who’s talking,” he jokes. “Wasn’t it you who I saw had to buy more jeans because yours didn’t button?” “That was because Darby did the laundry and ruined everything,” I reply. “Not because I gained weight.” “Seems like a convenient excuse to me. Why else would you want to go to the gym?” he questions. Sigh. “I met a girl at the restaurant yesterday,” I say. “Ace, did you know Mal was married?” Ace shrugs. "Yes." He pauses. “But I also heard that he also got divorced. That the girl was a job.” I start to get angry, which isn't rational since I've known the girl for five minutes. After the two skates left last night, so did she. She didn't even say thank you or anything like that. Not that she needed to since she had already said it once. But I expected a smile or a 'good job' or something. However, I had achieved nothing. “Actually, it wasn't a job. It was him being one. The girl is super sweet... and she happens to be friends with your Codie.” Ace looks at me in surprise. “How do you know that?” “I went to the feed store on the way home to eat yesterday,” I respond when Ace turns around a little too much. “Asked about her. I found out that Desi and her were best friends then and still are now.” Ace makes a sound in his throat that I know actually sounds like interest. “And it turns out they’re going to train for the Spartan race that Colt is teaching at training camp at the gym,” I continue. "Did you know that?" Ace says nothing. “Anyway, I thought we could run it too. And just show up when they’re there” I continue when there is still silence in the truck’s cabin. “Why am I here?” Banks asks. I roll my eyes. Banks and her lonely self never surprise me. “Because I want you to go.” I shrug. “And why did I think you might want to run the race with us?” Banks shakes his head. “If it's all the same to you, while you guys work out, I'll get in the truck and run to Newsome. I need a haircut. And I like working out alone, not with a bunch of women at the gym to distract me. I’m going to run the race, but I’m not doing all the social shit.” When Ace stops in front of the gym, we all jump and Ace hands over his keys. "Right?" Banks responds by getting into the truck and leaves without saying anything else. “What’s up with him lately?” Ace asks, watching the truck practically pull out of the parking lot. He's acting even worse than he normally does. 1 What am I saying, since Banks didn't have PTSD from when we were kids, but he also picked up some pretty nasty scars from when we were in the army. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” I reply. “I just have to get him in the right frame of mind to talk.” Ace snorts. “Then it will be during the day.” It will, in fact. It has to be during the day, because there's no way to talk to him at night. His nightmares always seem to get worse when the sun goes down. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” I say. “But I have to do it after talking to Darby.” “Darby?” Ace asks as he walks towards the front door, his training bag over his shoulder. “Darby.” Sigh. Darby is our little brother, and the biggest pain in the ass on the planet. 1 Post-traumatic stress disorder. Well, he used to be. He's getting better, slowly but surely. I wouldn't have thought the same of him a few years ago, though. When he was younger, Darby had gone deep into shit. He hung around some nasty people, and those nasty people took him down a dark path that nearly landed his ass in jail when he assaulted a police officer. This same police officer being the love interest of our older sister, Georgia. Well, so did the old love interest, seeing as they had been in love since they were little. There were many ways Nico could deal with Darby, but in the end, he straightened him out instead of sending him to jail. For which we are all grateful. But he also scared him and did what none of his brothers were able to do, that is, take him on a path that did not lead to prison. “What did he do this time?” Ace asks as he holds the gym door open for me. I walk in, catch the door before it can slam in my face, and say, “I caught him trying to steal a few dollars from my wallet.” “Why is this bad?” Ace asks. “Because I told him I needed the money and he couldn't have it,” I say. “But I think he was just trying to confirm that I only had what I said I had. He thought I was lying about not having a lot of money on me. Thinking I wasn't giving it to him, because I still think he's a bit of a liar.” “Well, he is,” says Ace. “And even though he's done better lately, much better, I still don't trust him like I trust all of you.” “True,” I agree. “But I need to find out why he needed the money so badly. He’s working, he should have it himself.” Ace shrugs as he stops right in the middle of the door, taking a look around. “This place is packed as hell,” he mutters, taking a look too. “Colt is going to hate this.” Colt, one of Ace's best friends, as well as mine, and one of the group of kids we met through the foster system, had just gotten out of the military. He was also struggling to reintegrate into society. The VA counselor had suggested that he find a place that made him comfortable, but also pushed him out of his comfort zone, to try to get some human interaction. And he chose this place, as a coach, of all things. Not that I don't think he'll do a great job, but I also didn't expect him to anticipate that kind of crowd. Although the Spartan race is a big thing here. All proceeds from the race go to a local charity, Second Chance, which helps find jobs for disabled veterans. Charity organizer Mercy Spurlock is the wife of a SWAT team member with the Kilgore Police Department. Miller Spurlock also worked with Nico, who brought the opportunity to Colt and I at lunch last week. And he, wanting to find a way to overcome his struggles, thought doing so might help. But I doubt he had any idea how popular