psychology for somebody else, Luke. I’m fine—had a bad day. I’m good now.”
Luke said something else, but the words fell on mostly deaf ears. Quinn was too busy staring out the window, watching Sara’s tennis shoes make another lap down the sidewalk. If he had it timed right, she was going to make two more, and then she’d start her run. A thirty-minute run, then she’d return, that excellent body of hers covered with a fine sheen of sweat and a grumpy look on her face.
“Devon and I were wondering if you wanted to come out for a visit.”
“Huh?” Quinn tore his gaze away from Sara’s legs and focused on the phone. “Come out there? To Kentucky?”
“No, genius. Mars. We moved there earlier in the summer.” Luke paused and said, “Yeah, Kentucky . . . as in where I live. You come for a visit. That’s what I’ve been talking about. Are you in outer space or something?”
“Or something,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’ll think about it. Job keeps me pretty busy.”
Luke started to say something else as Sara’s pacing stopped. Shit. Interrupting his brother, Quinn said, “I gotta get, man. I’ll call you later.”
It wasn’t until he was jogging up the steps that he realized something—he’d just lied to his brother. Well, not exactly lied. Not outright at least. One of those lies of omission. The freelancing he did managed to keep him pretty busy, but he had enough money saved up from the last few jobs that he could take a few weeks off, probably longer, and be just fine for it.
It wasn’t the job that kept him from going.
It was Sara.
I hate this.
I hate this.
I hate this.
It was the same mantra she did every time she ran, the same mantra she’d still be saying if she was doing this shit in five years. Hate was heat. Hate was anger. Anger was good, because it helped dull the fear. Helped her forget about the worries, the regrets about the life she’d lost. She channeled it, fed it into someplace deep inside her soul that she kept hidden away, and she hoped that one day soon, she’d be able to vent all that pent-up rage.
Feet pounding on the pavement, she had settled into a steady pace by the time she hit the end of the street. She wasn’t ever going to win any marathons, but she could run a few miles without collapsing, which was a far cry from the girl she’d been a few years ago. She might huff and puff and wheeze like she was dying, but she could make the run.
Somebody drew alongside her and she automatically edged over to let him pass. When he didn’t, she glanced over.
It was Quinn.
“Mind if I join you?”
If she said anything, she was likely to start babbling. Assuming she had the breath to run and talk at the same time. It wasn’t anything she’d ever tested before. She always ran alone.
I always do everything alone . . .
Jerking her thoughts away from that depressing fact, she shrugged in response.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s an I don’t care but I can’t talk and run very well at the same time shrug,” she said, gasping every other word.
Quinn grinned at her. “You know, you really could find some way to stay fit that you didn’t hate.”
Sara stubbornly shook her head. The point of her staying fit wasn’t to enjoy it. She didn’t want to enjoy it. It was just another change that she’d been forced to make to her life, and she kept track of all those little changes. Because at night, she sometimes lay awake listing them and thinking of ways to make the bastard responsible pay—
“What about swimming?”
She scowled at him.
“Sorry. The talking and running thing?”
“Yep.”
They fell into silence, a surprisingly easy silence. Although she hadn’t noticed him running before, he had no trouble keeping pace—hell, he wasn’t even breathing hard. Barely sweating.
One of those evil people who made it look easy.
She focused on the sidewalk in front of her instead of him, tried to find that semi-aware
Luke said something else, but the words fell on mostly deaf ears. Quinn was too busy staring out the window, watching Sara’s tennis shoes make another lap down the sidewalk. If he had it timed right, she was going to make two more, and then she’d start her run. A thirty-minute run, then she’d return, that excellent body of hers covered with a fine sheen of sweat and a grumpy look on her face.
“Devon and I were wondering if you wanted to come out for a visit.”
“Huh?” Quinn tore his gaze away from Sara’s legs and focused on the phone. “Come out there? To Kentucky?”
“No, genius. Mars. We moved there earlier in the summer.” Luke paused and said, “Yeah, Kentucky . . . as in where I live. You come for a visit. That’s what I’ve been talking about. Are you in outer space or something?”
“Or something,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’ll think about it. Job keeps me pretty busy.”
Luke started to say something else as Sara’s pacing stopped. Shit. Interrupting his brother, Quinn said, “I gotta get, man. I’ll call you later.”
It wasn’t until he was jogging up the steps that he realized something—he’d just lied to his brother. Well, not exactly lied. Not outright at least. One of those lies of omission. The freelancing he did managed to keep him pretty busy, but he had enough money saved up from the last few jobs that he could take a few weeks off, probably longer, and be just fine for it.
It wasn’t the job that kept him from going.
It was Sara.
I hate this.
I hate this.
I hate this.
It was the same mantra she did every time she ran, the same mantra she’d still be saying if she was doing this shit in five years. Hate was heat. Hate was anger. Anger was good, because it helped dull the fear. Helped her forget about the worries, the regrets about the life she’d lost. She channeled it, fed it into someplace deep inside her soul that she kept hidden away, and she hoped that one day soon, she’d be able to vent all that pent-up rage.
Feet pounding on the pavement, she had settled into a steady pace by the time she hit the end of the street. She wasn’t ever going to win any marathons, but she could run a few miles without collapsing, which was a far cry from the girl she’d been a few years ago. She might huff and puff and wheeze like she was dying, but she could make the run.
Somebody drew alongside her and she automatically edged over to let him pass. When he didn’t, she glanced over.
It was Quinn.
“Mind if I join you?”
If she said anything, she was likely to start babbling. Assuming she had the breath to run and talk at the same time. It wasn’t anything she’d ever tested before. She always ran alone.
I always do everything alone . . .
Jerking her thoughts away from that depressing fact, she shrugged in response.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s an I don’t care but I can’t talk and run very well at the same time shrug,” she said, gasping every other word.
Quinn grinned at her. “You know, you really could find some way to stay fit that you didn’t hate.”
Sara stubbornly shook her head. The point of her staying fit wasn’t to enjoy it. She didn’t want to enjoy it. It was just another change that she’d been forced to make to her life, and she kept track of all those little changes. Because at night, she sometimes lay awake listing them and thinking of ways to make the bastard responsible pay—
“What about swimming?”
She scowled at him.
“Sorry. The talking and running thing?”
“Yep.”
They fell into silence, a surprisingly easy silence. Although she hadn’t noticed him running before, he had no trouble keeping pace—hell, he wasn’t even breathing hard. Barely sweating.
One of those evil people who made it look easy.
She focused on the sidewalk in front of her instead of him, tried to find that semi-aware
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