Page 11 of Run

Vincent had left.

Hadn’t spoken to me.

Hadn’t even looked at me really.

That fucking hurt.

It shouldn’t have. It was unfair that it did, but it hurt.

I’d felt that connection again, knew that he had felt it too, but he had done nothing.

You didn’t go to him either, Giovanna. I tried to ignore that thought, but couldn’t.

I hadn’t, but so what? He was supposed to care.

Apparently that had changed.

Oh well, I told myself, going for nonchalance.

I’d seen him, and I lived to tell about it. That was that. He hadn’t seen fit to stay, so I wouldn’t see fit to obsess about it.

One thing was certain. My time here was done.

I wanted to wait until the end of the week and get the last of the money I’d earned, but I’d have to make do without it. There was no way I could go back there, smile at Gage and serve drinks all the while waiting for Vincent to walk through the door.

I hadn’t put enough miles between me and Vincent, but starting tomorrow, that would change.

Resolved, I rounded the bar.

And ran directly into a solid chest.

Vincent

“You in a hurry, Giovanna?”

She didn’t even pretend to be surprised.

In fact, she managed to look offended. That had always been a gift of Gia’s, taking great offense, acting like she never did anything wrong. That had always amused me, especially when I eventually got her to own up. Now, it enraged me.

“What do you want?” she asked.

She still had that indignation, but I saw beyond that, saw the fear, and what I thought—hoped—was longing underneath. Seeing that gave me the power to continue, though deep down, I knew nothing could have moved me from this spot.

“Just thought I’d visit. It’s been a long time,” I said.

She glared at me then, and if I wasn’t so pissed off, so turned on, I would have laughed.

But that wasn’t a possibility, not with the emotion that was rushing through me unabated. I hadn’t wanted to see her again, and now I knew why.

All the time since I had seen her last I had told myself I was over it, over her. That it didn’t matter. Giovanna had made her choice, and that choice wasn’t me.

All reasonable, perfectly believable statements.

All utter bullshit.

I had this pretty little story concocted in my head, but it had flown directly out of the window when I had first laid eyes on her.

I couldn’t say which feeling was more prominent.

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