It was Winter's third shift at Sharpton Rocks since the New Year, and she came to love the work.
Having Pete as a boss meant she could laugh with him all day and never hesitate to admit she didn't know something. He had a way with him that encouraged merriment and camaraderie amongst his staff and gym goers, so even with the inundation of new gym members, Winter's shifts went by smoothly.
The only point of issue for her was Murdoch. While they were civil in all regards, the strain of her resentment from their last interaction took its toll and brought them back to square one. They only talked to each other when absolutely necessary, and sometimes not even then.
Like now, for instance, as they began their closing procedures, they did not so much as blink at each other as they split off to do their tasks. Winter began cleaning the restrooms while Murdoch washed the floors. It was the reverse from last week, where they decided they would rotate duties. This prevented them for ever having to talk during closing again, so long as they remembered whose turn it was to do what. It was a great relief to them both.
After mopping the bathroom floors clean, Winter was ready to clock out. Since getting her permit, Rose used every chance she could to make her drive. By the time Winter gathered all her belongings, Rose was waiting in the passenger seat of her Jeep.
"How was work?" Rose asked as she sipped from her tumbler of coffee.
"Good," Winter said shortly.
To say Winter was off since Christmas Eve dinner at the Hayes' was an understatement. However, her aunt knew better than to press her about the whole thing.
What Rose did not know, however, was that Winter had taken it upon herself to closely monitor every time a phone came through for Rose. The call she intercepted from her mother still hung over her, even more so now since the Christmas catastrophe.
After dinner, Rose's phone rang. Winter's ears perked up from her place at the couch. She turned a page of The Odyssey and pretended to read while she listened in.
"Hello?" Rose answered it. "Hold on, speak a little more slowly," she said suddenly. Winter looked away from her book and watched in quiet concern as her aunt's face dropped into a look of horror.
"Oh, God, Babs. I'm coming right away," she said.
There was a small exchange where the words 'hospital' and 'stroke' were mentioned as Rose rushed into her coat and boots. She ended the call and looked at Winter.
"I'm heading over to the hospital," she said as she hastily worked one of her boots onto her foot, grunting with effort as she pulled the tight material over her heel.
"What happened?" asked Winter, concern breaking through her usually calm demeanor.
"Pete fell," she said in a panicky way as she forced her other foot into her boot. "They think it was a stroke. Babs and Murdoch are at the hospital already."
"Can I come?" Winter asked, but she was already getting dressed to leave. Rose looked at her with a sad sense of sweetness and nodded. Then she left to go warm up and start the car.
Winter rushed out just after her aunt, locking the storefront up and meeting her on the side of the street. She practically threw herself into the passenger seat with how fast she was moving.
By the time they reached the hospital and located the correct waiting room, Babs was at the tail end of her hysterics. Rose made quick work of comforting her into a chair and talking her through what happened. Murdoch was one seat over, looking straight ahead at nothing in particular, completely impassive. Winter decided to quietly sit next to him in a weak show of solidarity.
If she offered any comfort at all, Murdoch didn't let it show through his stone exterior. He was entirely blank, and as Winter examined him, she wondered if he had sat in that very same spot making that very same expression the day his dad died.
It wasn't much longer until the Hayes were called into a meeting room to be informed on Pete's condition. When Babs returned, there were tears in her eyes.
"He's okay," she said, the relief pouring out of her in streams from her eyes. She was still shaken, and Rose quickly took her into her arms to stabilize her. She whispered shakily into Rose's ear, explaining everything she heard from the doctor.
Babs said that Pete suffered from an ischemic stroke and murmured something about an EVT, and then began crying softly. The only thing that mattered to her and everyone else waiting was that Pete was safe.
Even with the news, Murdoch was in a solemn state, but Winter swore that she detected something more in his stoic glaze. His cheeks and neck held the slightest hint of heat, his brows furrowed just barely enough for a soft line to form between them. He was angry, possibly livid. At who or what was a question left unanswered.
Rose and Winter excused themselves once visiting opened, wisely deciding to allow the family some alone time. They'd come back to visit the next day, with a large get-well bouquet, no doubt.
It was a few days later when Rose asked Winter an odd question.
"Heard from Murdoch at all today?"
Winter looked up from her plate of veggie stir-fry. "What?"
Rose shrugged in an attempt to seem casual. "Oh, nothing. Babs just called earlier and said he went out this morning and hasn't heard from him. I'm sure it's nothing, though. She must still just be frazzled from everything going on the past few days."
Winter pursed her lips and nodded in contemplation. "Well, I wouldn't be the one to ask anyway," she said despite knowing it was a lie. She knew exactly where Murdoch was.
And that's precisely why at 6:12p.m., she left the house, her employee-issued gym keys in hand.
The front entrance to Sharpton Rocks was locked, the notice of sudden closure still hanging in the window. Winter rounded to the back entrance, let herself in, and changed into her climbing shoes in the breakroom before entering the gym.
It was eerily quiet, but the lights were on, confirming Winter's suspicions. She rounded the perimeter of the large island of bouldering walls at the center of the gym and found Murdoch mid-ascent a black-level problem.
She could tell without so much as a second look that he'd been climbing all day. For the first time, she witnessed him struggling to finish a problem, his muscles straining from misuse. His arms shook as he hauled himself up further, hair matted together in thick strands from sweat, and when he reached behind into his chalk bag, he realized he was running on empty as his fingers quaked and seized up. He soldiered through the exhaustion anyway and maneuvered expertly, albeit shakily.
Winter waited until he was about to clear the wall before she began climbing. By the time she topped-over, Murdoch was sat in the walkway, his back faced to her. She could see his shoulders heaving from the exertion, his breath laboring into quick huffs.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without bothering to look back.
Now closer to the ceiling lights, Winter could see how his shirt stuck to his back, a line of sweat formed between his shoulder blades. He brought his hands up to his hair and shook them through it. Some of the leftover chalk on them stuck to the wet strands.
"I know," she said as she walked down the walkway towards him. She took a seat behind him, her back facing his.
It was silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the buzzing lights and Murdoch's strained breathing. He sighed.
"This sucks," he cracked.
"I know," she replied, leaning back into him and tilting her head so it fell onto the nape of his neck. He stiffened, but eventually gave in and leaned into her.
It seemed that minutes passed on in the quiet that followed. Even the lights were hushed in solidarity with Murdoch's somber thoughts.
Winter leaned back further to support his weight, placing her arms behind her for leverage. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of anything as she felt Murdoch's shoulders shake ever so slightly.
He was almost entirely noiseless, save for the tiniest whimper that escaped him as the minutes passed on, and he could no longer use the façade of anger to mask his fear. Even the faintest whisper of sadness that escaped him shook Winter to her core. She tilted her head to the side and did everything she could to pretend she didn't hear a thing.
Instead, she inched one of her hands back, slowly and deliberately, until she could hook her pinky over one of Murdoch's. It was meant to be a small comfort--just something to remind him that she was there while he faced the call of mortality once again--but it felt like something more.
It felt like a line had finally been crossed.
His hand twitched as she made contact with him, first out of surprise, then out of relief. When the timing felt right, Winter reached further, using her pinky finger to pull Murdoch's hand under hers as they continued their wordless exchange. It felt warm and chalky, and her smooth fingers were almost invasively sweet to his rough, calloused hands as they slotted through the spaces between his knuckles.
His breathing quickly calmed despite the blood rush he felt. He closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned into her further. Suddenly, he found that his mind was pleasantly blank.
***
No comment. Will be back next week for another update. Until then, stay healthy and safe!