Page 50 of Destined To Fall

I sigh and nod, following Max out of the alley as he calls for a cab with the unmistakable feeling I’m about to learn a lot more than I want to about the Thatcher family.

Chapter Ten

It’s six in the morning, and I’m well and truly up and going before my alarm has even buzzed, which is unheard of for me. My fingers jitter, and my feet tap incessantly as I ride the elevator down, forcing me to jog in place and flick my hands to dispel the pent-up tension burning in me. It’s been a hell of a week, one I wish I could forget, not least my impromptu dinner with Max and the way it’s plagued me ever since. I wasn’t equipped for the onslaught of information he so kindly bestowed on me, or the feels that would follow. I also wasn’t prepared to miss talking to Jeremy so much.

I need to run, for the wind to beat against my skin and hopefully clear my head. The elevator pings open, and I’m out in a flash, putting my earbuds in before stepping into the last of the cool July air. I raise my face sky-high, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath, letting it fuel my limbs. I take one more lungful before beginning the brisk jog to Columbus Park.

I just want to forget.

A smile spreads across my face as I approach the archway. The sun flaming across the glistening waterfront,covers the buildings in a bright glow and illuminates the stone steps. It’s one of my favorite places in Boston, but the moment I descend the steps and clear the arch, my sanctuary is tainted.

Jeremy.

My heart stills, then catapults against my ribs over and over again. I watch, shocked into atrophy as Jeremy lifts his head and looks straight at me, like he’s been waiting for me. The leg he was stretching is all but forgotten, his eyes a blaze of emotion. Anger, elation, relief, disappointment, desire—all there, fighting for supremacy.

What the hell is he doing here?Making my life miserable, so it would seem, because if the last week has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is coincidental, and this is no happenstance. I don’t stop to ask. Instead, I pull my gaze from his and run in the opposite direction from where he’s standing.

Fuck warming up. Instead of clearing my head, I’m literally running from my problems. I pick up my pace, the sound of my footfalls replacing the racing of my heart in my ears, but it’s not long before I hear a second set right behind me.Goddamn it.

As Jeremy comes up beside me, I make a show of adjusting my ear buds and turn up the volume, hoping the message comes across loud and clear.

Leave. Me. Alone.

It doesn’t. He’s still easily keeping pace with me, his muscular legs covering more distance than mine, and his chest rises and falls evenly. I’m about to break a sweat, and Jeremy looks like he’s out for a friendly stroll. He raises an eyebrow when he catches me looking sideways at him, my limbs losing some of their momentum in the process. I snap my attention completely forward, refusing to acknowledge how tight his gray T-shirt is and how it showcases all the hard lines of his body, or how low his black sweats hang on his hips. Or the fact that my racing heart has little to do with the speed at which I’m running, and everything to do with the fine specimen beside me.

I pick up my feet, increasing my speed until I’m running full throttle, huffing and puffing hard. For forty-odd minutes I run flat out, with Jeremy still right beside me, a silent, burning presence I can’t shake. Neither one of us gives an inch or breathes a word. He doesn’t try to stop me or seem to want to chat. It confuses me. Why is he here, then? I chance a quick sideways glance at Jeremy, getting immense satisfaction when I finally see perspiration dot his brow. He’s working up a sweat, and it’s hot as hell.

I hit my limit. My legs feel like they’re going to conk out at any minute, and I’ve had enough of this silent dance we seem to be conducting. Not one to quit first, I run harder, pushing beyond that last reserve in a vain attempt to lose Jeremy. I know I’m going to regret the pain later and curse my stubborn ass. But he speeds up beside me, seemingly without effort, infuriating me more.

“Goddamn it,” I puff.“I can’t do this anymore,” I huff out, stumbling to a stop and crouching forward to rest my hands on my knees. I gasp for breath, raggedly drawing in every greedy mouthful I can before I have the strength to look up and face Jeremy, my legs a wobbly, jelly mess. It’s all I can do to keep from collapsing on the footpath. When I do finally look up, he’s gone; not even a dust cloud in his wake. I frown, unsure if it’s relief or disappointment I’m feeling.

I spend the long and painful walk home lost in my head. The appetite that usually accompanies my Sunday ritual is decidedly absent. I can’t bring myself to contemplate food right now, with every muscle in my body burning in protest and this heavy, uncomfortable sensation in the pit of my stomach.

I startle awake to the buzzing of my cell, groaning as I raise my head from its smooshed position against the sofa. I slide my phone out of the armband in time to swipe answer, cringing as Laura screeches down the line.

“Hey, hooker.”

“Laura, what’s up?”

“You okay? You sound a little off.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Were you asleep?”

“No…” I pull the phone away to see I passed out for over two hours.Oops.“What did you call for?”

“Are you sick?”

“God. No, I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay. I rang because you haven’t been checking your answering machine. Is it full?”

I look at the blinking lights and see she’s right.“Why? That’s your job.” I make a mental note to delete them as soon as I get off the couch.

“Not this week, it isn’t. Anyway, as your awesome personal assistant, website designer extraordinaire, sexy bitch, best—”

“Get to the point, Law.”

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