“You should become a yoga instructor,” I say, making him laugh.

“The quiet would drive me bonkers.”

He helps me to a standing position and I adjust my tank top and shorts, getting rid of this awful wedgie. Unable to stop myself, I subtly gaze over at the weight room. Jeremiah’s sitting on a bench doing bicep curls. A woman dressed like Workout Barbie is checking him out.

“Annie?” Matt says quietly, looking at his brother. “If you want him to leave you alone, just tell me. I’ll make it happen.”

“He’s fine.”

“But are you fine?” Matt touches my shoulder. “I know we’ve never talked about your boyfriend…but Jordan Woods told me what happened. And I want you to feel better…not worse.”

“We’re just friends…and I feel fine. I really do.”

He grins and for a moment I’m jealous of Kate, that she’s marrying such a nice guy. I start to head for the locker room but turn back to Matt. “Why would I feel worse?”

He scratches his neck. “Jere’s never had anything serious with anybody. He’s an adrenaline junkie.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“It means that he moves from activity to activity, from person to person, always looking for his next challenge.” A long pause. “It means that I don’t want you to get too attached to him…”

Does Jeremiah consider me a challenge? When I went over to his house and sat on the porch with him, he told me how much he liked me. He seemed genuine. Am I just a game? I peer over at him. He’s moved on to bench press, pumping a bar holding two giant weights. Jeremiah’s so high-octane male, I have to catch my breath.

“We’re just friends,” I say. “That’s what I need right now. A friend.” I pause. “But why is he like this?”

“It’s his story to tell.”

And that’s the real question. Do I want to hear the story? I don’t want anything serious with him. I don’t want drama. “Forget I asked, okay?”

Matt lets out a long breath, then gives me the high five I’ve come to expect at the end of our workouts. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. You ready for our thirteen-miler?”

I nod, but I’m not so sure.

Thirteen miles. A whole half-marathon.

During his training, Kyle only went that far four times…

•••

When I get home from the gym, I discover Mom left her apron and wallet on the kitchen counter.

I grab her stuff, climb in the car, and drive over to the Quick Pick. I used to bring her stuff over all the time, but since I was so nasty to her and said that unforgivable thing, my brother has taken on the chore. When I pull into the parking lot, I realize I haven’t been here in months.

It’s after 5:00 p.m., and a lot of people just got off work and stopped to buy groceries, so the lines are packed. I don’t want to get Mom in trouble or hold up customers, so I grab some ibuprofen and Pepto from the medicine aisle and head toward cash register number two, where three people are in line ahead of me.

When Mom looks up from scanning some bananas, she gives me a surprised smile. I find myself smiling back, and when it’s my turn to pay, she scans my items and bags them, then I hand over her apron and wallet.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“Mom?”

She tucks a brown curl behind her ear and looks up at me sadly. “Yeah?”

“Can you go shopping with me tomorrow, for school supplies? And go with me to do some other errands for college?”

Her eyes light up.

The next day, Mom helps me open my own checking account and takes me for some embarrassing vaccinations at the doctor, aka STD-prevention shots. Regardless of whether or not I’m having sex, my college won’t let me start classes without them.

Then she and I go shopping at Target for school supplies and stuff for my new dorm room, like extra-long twin bed sheets and a shower caddy. It’s hard to believe that in less than a month, my mom won’t be sleeping down the hall from me every night. Nick and I won’t battle-royale over the bathroom anymore. Mom won’t be there to set my coffee to automatically brew. I’ll miss that. I’ll miss her.

“I hate this store,” she says, pushing our red buggy with the wobbly wheel that screeches.

“You love this store.”

“I hate it. I always want to buy everything. Those one-dollar bins are from the devil.”

I pass her my shopping list. “It’s your lucky day. I have to buy everything that has a purple checkmark beside it. You can pick it all out.”