Page 28 of Loathe at First Sight

Crap.

nine

Watch Where You're Going!

Jack

There is nothing that I love more than getting up early and going for a run. Lilly Leaf Falls this early in the morning is a thing of beauty.

It’s so quiet.

So peaceful.

I don’t even listen to music during these runs so that I can completely get lost in the nature around me. Usually, when I’m lifting weights, I love some rock music blaring through my headphones.

But these morning jogs are different.

When I lived in Miami, I didn’t ever get any type of quiet time like this. My life was a constant go-go-go. Sure, working out was a release for me, but it was also part of my job. That made it far less relaxing.

Now, I will soak in these moments every chance I get.

Every morning, I get up while it’s still dark out. I kiss my dog goodbye who stares at me from the empty side of the bed before she inevitably falls back asleep. And I head out here to run while the sun comes up.

Well, let me rephrase because it’s not sunny all that often.

I run while the sky lights up, even if it’s painted with clouds.

My feet hit the ground at a decent pace as I breathe in the crisp morning air.

As I turn to head down a different trail, I spot a deer through the trees and immediately stop to take a look. He lifts his large head to look right back at me. We make eye contact for a good five seconds before something hard slams into my side.

Did another deer attack me or something?

I look down, prepared to help a wounded animal or something. But it’s no animal. It’s Liz Lawson.

Without thinking, I spit, “Do you ever watch where you’re going?”

“Yes,” she groans, rubbing her head. “I can’t help it that you’re as big as a motherfucking tree. And hard as one, too. Shit.”

“Man, you’ve got a mouth on you,” I say, a little surprised.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

I’m sure I can imagine.

“What are you doing out here?” She asks.

“Me?! What are you doing out here?”

“Don’t ask me my own question,” she grumbles while standing up and dusting herself off.

It’s another day of athletic clothes and a ponytail for her.

Answering her, I say, “I come out here every morning to run because it’s quiet. Well, it was quiet.”

Anger pulses through my veins. Liz Lawson can come in and act like a jerk all she wants. She can intrude on my business or whatever else. But my running time is mine. That’s a compromise that I refuse to make.

“I came out here to run, too,” she says.

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