Chasing the Sun (A Rebound Novella Book 2) by Nikki Mathis Thompson

but the same in the ways that counted—intelligence, kindness, a fierce spirit. He felt like a whiny bitch, there were worse things than having two exceptional women interested in him.
    But it really wasn’t that great. He would have to hurt one or both and it would hurt him to hurt them. He was going home in a month, so did it matter? Trey had become the kind of friend he’d wanted long term, but now was there anything to salvage? She was hurting and he wasn’t sure they could come back from this.  
    Rory was amazing and they had great chemistry. He’d originally thought she just wanted a fling, but something had shifted. He didn’t think she was in love with him or anything, but the looks she’d been giving him, the smiles, the touches. All that “you are the sun” stuff. But she was also a free spirit and very passionate, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she burned hot and them flickered out with all the men she slept with.
    Somewhere out there Trey was sad and maybe a little heartbroken, and the thought made him sick.  

Chapter Twenty-One
    He pounded the bag, right, left, right left. The ache and strain was welcome. The uneasy night’s sleep made him struggle for every punch, but he pushed through with the knowledge that maybe if he punched hard enough he could untangle the thoughts in his head. David Grohl’s fast paced guitar urged him to hit harder.  
    Left, right, left, right, upper cut.  
    He made no move to slow down.  
    When his back muscles started to burn and twitch, a mournful baritone sounded in his ears. “Take Me to Church” was a song of benediction, forbidden love, pain, and longing. It made him want to scream, fuck, maybe even cry. But no, not today. Today he would take out his frustration on the stuffed piece of red vinyl swaying from a metal chain in an empty gym.  
    The song ended and he stalled the swinging bag with a wide embrace, his breath far from being caught. He scrunched his eyes shut—the sweat dripped down his face, down his bare chest and back. He would hurt tomorrow.  
    The answer hadn’t magically come to him during his barrage of punches, but he sure felt better. Add a long nap and he should almost feel normal.

    He’d expected Trey to call him or send him a self deprecating text, something, anything. But four days and nothing…
    It was Thursday and he was waiting in front of the long line of food trucks by his office. They met here every Thursday. He was sweating despite the shade from the trees. He walked up the the section of   pale picnic benches, where she always waited for him, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was running late. He clung to this thought as he shot her a text message.
    I’m here. The chicken and waffles truck smells awesome.
    Silence.  
    Come on you can’t stay mad at me for ever! I’ll buy you one of those chocolate crepes you like.
    Another ten minutes with no response.  
    He didn’t have much of an appetite, but in the spirit of tradition he chose something he’d yet to try. That was Trey’s idea—pick something different every time. If the person chose something and it turned out to be particularly heinous, the other would share their lunch. Neither wanted to share, so they learned to steer clear of the Vegan Vindaloo truck.
    He decided to hit up Sabor, which happened to have killer Tex-Mex. He ordered the lunch special and grabbed a spot in a corner. He poked at his carne asada enchiladas with little enthusiasm and a lot of self pity. He ate, but didn’t taste, and half way through he tossed it in the trash. He felt a twinge of guilt for wasting all that food, his father would kill him.
    “What? You’re just gonna leave without buying me my crepe?” a familiar voice with a soft twang called to his back.
    He stopped and smiled, the tightness in his chest loosening.
    He turned to find Trey standing a few feet away with a hand on her cocked hip. Her hair was piled on top of her head with a gauzy white top over