Page 7 of Echoes of Us

TWO

AFTER

It looked like rain. The sky was a thick, unbroken expanse of gray, the kind that made it hard to tell where the clouds ended and the horizon began. A quiet rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, like a promise. That suited me just fine. I pulled my hood over my head, its fabric muffling the world, and started running. The early morning air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and eucalyptus.

This felt good. The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the sound of my breath, the faint patter of drizzle starting to fall—everything was mechanical. Each step was a distraction, each breath a way to keep my mind from drifting. I didn’t have to think about anything. If my thoughts started to wander, to creep back to memories of him, I could just push myself harder. I could feel the burn in my muscles and the strain in my lungs, and then everything would clear up again.

The trail was almost deserted at this hour, the usual bustleof joggers and dog walkers absent. It was just me and the rain, a thin mist turning into heavier drops that dripped from the leaves and collected in shallow puddles. My shoes splashed through them, sending small arcs of water into the air.

I ran for almost an hour, the rain gradually intensifying until it was pouring. My clothes were soaked through, clinging to my skin, but I didn’t care. The rain was a curtain, hiding the world from view, isolating me in my own bubble of exertion. But the downpour eventually forced me to return. My body was chilled, my fingers numb, and I knew I couldn’t stay out much longer without risking a cold.

When I reached my apartment, water streamed off my jacket and pooled on the floor as I fumbled with the keys. I pushed the door to my room open and saw Ezra sitting on the bed.

He looked up, eyebrows raised. “You were running in the rain? Angst much?” he said, not unkindly, but with that familiar teasing edge.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, starting to peel off my sodden clothes.

“I’m here for the show,” he said as I pulled my shirt off. I glared, not in the mood for jokes. “Come on, Att. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice flat. I toweled off and changed into dry clothes. I faced him, hands on my hips, feeling the familiar tension of frustration and fatigue.

“You look far from fine,” he said, concern deepening the lines on his forehead.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I moved to my desk chair and sat down, staring out the window at the rain now hammering against the glass.

“I am,” I told him, annoyed. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? “I told Colin, Hank, and the rest of the team thesame thing when they showed up unannounced. I’m not a kid. I don’t need you checking up on me.”

Ezra didn’t look mad. He was worried. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Att, it’s been months. He left months ago,” he said.

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

“Fine, you’re going to class. But are you talking to anybody? Because you sure as hell don’t talk to anyone on the team. You just sulk in here all day. I get it. You’re sad, but you need to start getting over it,” he said patiently.

“I’m not sad,” I said.Sadwas such a small word compared to what I really felt.

“Yeah, you are, and it’s okay, but you have to get over it,” he insisted.

“Why?” I asked.

He blinked.

“Why do I have to get over it? It’s not easy. He was everything, and now he’s gone. I think I’m allowed to not be over it yet.”

“Let’s go out,” he suggested.

“I don’t want to go out,” I told him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You could meet someone,” he said.

“I don’t want to meet anybody; I just want you to let me be miserable in peace,” I snapped. He gave me a serious look until I sighed and glanced back out the window.

“You’re not the first person who’s ever been dumped, Att,” he said.

I pressed my lips together. I knew that. It didn’t make it any better.

“I know you refuse to lean on anybody, but I’m not leaving you alone with this. I can see how miserable you are. Just let me help,” he pleaded.

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