Then he rested, letting out a breath.
I went to fetch some water for him, and by the time I had returned, he had resumed lifting.
“I thought that you could come here in the mornings,” I said as I handed him a glass of water. “I thought it would be more fun than wheeling up and down that same old corridor.” Taking a swig from my own glass of water, I set it down before moving over to the MP3 player. I had no idea what kind of music he might like. I just played the first song that was on there, a pop song.
He didn’t seem to pay much attention to the music, however. In fact, he barely even registered the sound. After he’d finished drinking, I took the glass from him and he continued his gentle exercises.
Rather than just sitting here, I decided to join him. I absolutely abhorred working out in a gym, in truth. I found it mind-numbingly boring, even with my favorite songs blasting in the background. I preferred to jog, walk or climb. But it made sense that I accompany Josh now.
I didn’t fancy weights, but there was a machine thingy that looked fairly interesting. Machine thingy. That spoke of how much I visited the gym. I needed to consult my notes to remind myself what it was called. I lay down on the backrest before reaching up and grabbing handles. I pulled them downward, feeling the muscles in my upper arms burn.
I’d barely pulled down three times when Josh commented, “You’re doing that wrong.”
I let go of the handles like they’d turned iron-hot and stared at him.
He had put down his own weights and was moving over to me. His face was serious, his eyes squinting in concentration, as he eyed the apparatus I was resting on.
“You were craning your neck every time you pulled downwards,” he went on. “You shouldn’t do that. You could hurt yourself.”
I was still staring at him. He was awfully knowledgeable about this for a man who had no memory.
“You must’ve learnt that somewhere,” I remarked.
He nodded thoughtfully, running a tongue over his lower lip. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose I must have.”
His age, and now this… I wondered how many other memories were just bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered. The fact that he had suggested that I call him Josh so quickly made me wonder whether that had actually been his name… or perhaps the name of somebody he had once known.
Maybe with time, he will heal by himself. The drugs or whatever else the hunters had inflicted on him might simply fade away. That was a hopeful thought. I hoped not unrealistically hopeful.
“Well,” I said, “let me try again and you can tell me if I’m doing that thing with my neck.”
I retook my hold around the handles and pulled downward, this time making a concerted effort not to strain my neck muscles.
“Better,” he muttered. Then he paused again, staring at my hands wrapped around the handles. “Though,” he remarked, “your wrists don’t look right.” Reaching up, he grasped my wrists and straightened them. I realized only now that I had been bending them at a weird angle when I’d pulled downward. I really was clueless at this.
“Thanks,” I said.
I tried again, and this time, Josh approved. He watched me continue before returning to his own weights and picking them up again.
I exercised for about another ten minutes before I got fed up. Around the same time exhaustion took its toll on Josh. He set down the weights and leaned back in his chair. He reached for the blankets wrapped around him and cast them aside.
I handed him some more water, which he drank readily. Then I wondered, “Are you hungry, by any chance?”
“Hm,” he said. “You know… I think I am.”
That was certainly an improvement. “Come with me and I’ll cook something for you.”
I waited for a second to see if his arms moved to his chair’s wheels, to gauge whether he wanted to move himself, but since he didn’t, I moved behind him and pushed him to the kitchen.
“Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” I asked. “Do you have any idea what you like?”
He shrugged. “Just… whatever you’ve got, I’ll try it.”
“I think you should try eating something solid for a change. If you throw up, then, well, you throw up.”
“All right…”
I wasn’t great at cooking. Really not great. Usually when my parents were away, I visited my grandmother for main meals. My mom also packed up meals for me and put them in the freezer so I could take them out and heat them up when I wanted to stay at home to eat. But now that I had a guest, I was feeling a little more adventurous. Unwisely so.
A World of New (A Shade of Vampire, #26)
Bella Forrest's books
- A Gate of Night (A Shade of Vampire #6)
- A Castle of Sand (A Shade of Vampire 3)
- A Shade of Blood (A Shade of Vampire 2)
- A Shade of Vampire (A Shade of Vampire 1)
- Beautiful Monster (Beautiful Monster #1)
- A Shade Of Vampire
- A Shade of Vampire 8: A Shade of Novak
- A Clan of Novaks (A Shade of Vampire, #25)