Page 5 of Offside Angel

Before I could wake up enough to be terrified, they announced themselves. “I’m with the front desk. You missed check-out. If you don’t come out, I’ll call the cops.”

I must have slept for twelve hours. Maybe more.

It was nice…

Until it wasn’t.

I stumbled to the door and the man from the front desk sighed with relief. “You didn’t kill yourself. Great. I did not want to deal with that kind of mess again. This room has a history.”

When I grabbed my single duffel bag and left, a balding man with a big gut and a redhead in a polyester dress were waiting nearby. They shuffled in right after me, apparently not worried about a change of sheets.

It’s probably their door Zane is banging down right now. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what they’re doing in there.

If it wasn’t so fucking depressing, I could almost smile at the full circleness of them being interrupted by aggressive knocking. If Zane knocks, that is. Somehow, I doubt it. It’s not really his style.

My eyes snap to the corner of the building as a woman ambles towards the main office. She sways back and forth as she walks like she’s in imminent danger of falling over. Under the yellow light, she leans against the wall and lights a cigarette.

She’s only been there a few seconds when Zane comes tearing around the building where she just came from. He’s running like his life depends on it.

I jolt up, hand poised on my keys in the ignition.

Is he being chased? Is he in trouble?

Fuck my cover. I’d blow it in a second if it meant mowing down anyone trying to hurt Zane.

But he’s not running from anyone.

He’s running towards someone.

More specifically, towards the woman with long, dark hair standing under the only light on the entire street.

My stomach drops. I realize what’s happening a second before Zane grabs the woman and spins her around. She screams and Zane stumbles back, hands raised and the look on his face says it all.

He thought she was me.

He was running like his life depended on it because he thought he’d found me.

Guilt slices through me as Zane walks back to his car, head hung low. I live for these little glimpses of Zane, but I don’t need to be any closer than I am right now to see the truth: this is killing him.

While he’s been chasing me all around the southwestern US, who has been watching Aiden? I sprang for the premium TV package in a motel room the other night to catch the Angels game, but Zane was benched. He didn’t play a single minute.

How much longer can this go on before it breaks him?

How many more almost run-ins can we have before our paths finally cross? And then what?

I drop my face into my hands, taking deep, even breaths to keep the tears at bay. Because I know the truth. I’ve known it since the moment I laid eyes on Zane Whitaker. Since the moment I felt that magnetic draw towards him.

No matter what happens, I can never be with him.

Even if he catches up to me, I’ll still have to leave him.

After a few minutes, his car starts.

A few minutes later, he drives away.

I watch until his tail lights disappear behind the horizon.

Then I start my engine and drive in the opposite direction.

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