“That sounds great, but I’m not sure if I’ll have my own place by then—”
“We can get a hotel room.”
As if that will solve all our problems. Standing, I practically limp out of the yard, hoping that the caravan of moms didn’t see me looking like a fool.
“It’s not that…” I begin, my mind whirling as I try to come up with another excuse as to why they have to stay put in Holland Springs.
“We miss you—I miss you,” she says simply, and I cave like a sand castle hit by a wave.
Tears fill my eyes. “I miss you, too. Maybe…maybe I can find a way to come home instead.” I swallow. “Please don’t buy plane tickets until I know for sure. Okay?”
“If that’s what you want.” It kills me to hear the disappointment in my momma’s voice because it’s not what I want. The last six years of my life have been all kinds of not what I want.
But I can’t share that.
Because I’m a coward.
“It’s what would work best for me right now,” I reply softly. “Well, I better go. I’m out walking and don’t want to run into a tree or something.”
“Oh please,” my momma huffs. “You are the most graceful of all my children.”
“Except when I’m not.” Except when I had to make up stories to explain the bruises. And when I couldn’t…I simply stopped visiting my family and made up excuse after excuse as to why they couldn’t come see me.
We say goodbye and I end our call, then tuck my phone into my armband. While my yoga pants have no place for a phone, they are long enough to cover everything I need. They’re also black and absorb the sun like nobody’s business.
As I continue to walk, sweat starts to gather at the small of my back and between my breasts. Looks like today is another scorcher and I’ll be forced to hang out in my apartment again. Alone.
But you like being alone, I remind myself. Alone is a million times better than with Penn. Or any other man.
I glance at the shady side of the street, the pull of the shadows enough to make me stop and consider crossing.
The pounding of shoes on the pavement makes me glance to the side. The sight of my neighbor makes my heart speed up without my permission. I suppose I can blame it on his lack of clothes. On the way his chest is freaking glistening in the sunlight. On the way there’s a dark trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his running shorts. Or even the hair on his chest—not too much and not too little.
His mouth is set into a determined line and the muscles of his thighs are clearly defined beneath the material of his shorts as they pull tight across them. A part of me wants to continue to make a study of him, or even compose an ode to his biceps, but that girl is long gone.
My soon-to-be ex-husband beat her out of me.
Like me, he’s not wearing any sunglasses, and the moment his gaze locks on to mine, I freeze, like a deer caught in the headlights. My stupid legs won’t move, not even to get into the shade my body craves.
His lips curve into a smile as he slows. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Lucky me,” I grumble. The old me would love the way he looks at me, but the new me, the wiser me, doesn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. Based on his size, it wouldn’t be very far at all.
“Are you a runner?” he asks, as if I haven’t been purposefully rude.
I stare at him for a moment. While I don’t have time for any man, this man did rescue me. This man took me to a safe place. He didn’t lay a hand on me, didn’t tell me it was my fault or ask what I had done to make my husband mad.
“No, I—”
“Damn. You’re bleeding.” His gaze drops to my legs.
“What?” I manage to gasp before he grabs my arm and begins to pull me to one side. It’s not rough, but it’s not what I want. Sheer terror slams my body, nearly forcing me to my knees, but I refuse to cave. I refuse. “Let go of me.” The words sound barely human.
Immediately, he lets go of my arm. There is concern on his face, enough that I start to calm down. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”
I rub the spot where he’d touched me, but I’m not sure if it’s to rub his touch away or in. “Yeah, you should have.”
“I really should have. Again, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He’s serious, sincere, and genuinely concerned, I realize.
Swallowing down my pride and embarrassment, I nod. “Thanks. My knee is fine. I ran into a flamingo to avoid getting bulldozed by strollers.”
His mouth quirks and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Despite his intimidating size and overprotective manner, he has nice eyes. Warm eyes. They’re the color of the forest behind my parents’ farm. Penn never had warm eyes, never had eyes the color of warmth. His were icy, cold…colorless like a glacier in the shadow of the clouds.
Then again, hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I could be just as wrong about the man standing next to me as I had been about the man who stood in front of me while he vowed to love, honor, and cherish me.
“You attacked a defenseless bird?” he asks, pulling me from my head.
“No.”