Page 54 of The Mistake

As if on cue, Hannah appears on the front stoop, decked out in a baggy T-shirt and spandex pants that go to her knees. Her ponytail flops around as she hurries over to give me a hug. “Logan! I feel like I haven’t seen you in months!”

“That’s because you haven’t.” I tweak the end of her ponytail. “How’s your summer going?”

“Good. You?”

I shrug. “All right, I guess.”

“So you’re coming running with us?”

“Apparently I don’t have a choice in the matter.” I’m already wearing sneakers, track pants, and an old T-shirt, so I don’t need to change, but I pop into the house to stash my wallet and keys before joining them outside again. Just in time to hear Hannah scolding Dean about his running attire.

“Seriously, dude, put on a shirt.”

“Hey, you know what they say,” Dean drawls. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

“No, I’m pretty sure they sayput on a shirt when you gofor a run, you cocky narcissist.”

His jaw drops. “Narcissist? More like realist. Look at these abs, Wellsy. Actually, touch them. Seriously. It will change your life.”

She snorts.

“What, you’re too intimidated by all this masculine beauty?” He slaps a hand over his tight six-pack.

“You know what?” she says sweetly. “I wouldloveto touch your abs.”

In the blink of an eye, Hannah scoots down and grabs something from the planter next to the garage. A handful of dirt. Which she proceeds to smear on him, leaving a line from his belly button to the top of his waistband. And since it’s hot as hell outside and Dean is already sweaty, the dirt cakes to his skin like a mud mask.

“Ready?” she chirps.

Dean glowers at her. “I know you think I’ll go inside and wipe that off. But guess what—I won’t.”

“Oh really? You’re going to run through town looking like that?” She tips her head in challenge. “No way. You’re far too vain.”

I snicker, but I happen to know she’s not giving Dean enough credit. As much as his ego probably hates that his pristine abs have been soiled, Dean also happens to be a stubborn-as-fuck hockey player who’s not going to allow a tiny ballbuster like Hannah get to him.

“Nuh-uh, baby doll. I’m wearing this dirt as a badge of honor.”

He stares at her. Gloating.

She stares back. Annoyed.

I clear my throat. “Are we running or what?”

They snap out of their stare-down and the three of us take off in a brisk pace down the sidewalk. “We usually run the same route,” Dean tells me. “Down to the park, hit the trail there, then come back the other way.”

Knowing they’ve been running together often enough to have a “route” brings a strange pang of jealousy. I miss my friends, damn it. I hate how isolated I’ve been in Munsen, with nobody to talk to but Jeff and my perpetually inebriated father.

We’ve only been running for a few minutes when Hannahstarts humming. Softly at first, but eventually it turns into full-on singing. Her voice is beautiful, sweet and melodic with a throaty pitch that Garrett says gives him goose bumps. As she sings Hozier’s “Take Me to Church,” I can’t help but turn to grin at Dean.

“She sings when she’s running,” he says with a sigh. “Seriously. She does it the whole time. Garrett and I tried explaining that it messes with your breath control, but?—”

“I swear to God,” she interrupts, “if I have to hear one more lecture about my breath control, I will punch you. All of you. I like to sing when I run. Deal with it.”

I actually don’t mind it. Her voice is a nice soundtrack to the thuds of our sneakers pounding the pavement, even if her choice of songs is slightly depressing.

When we reach the entrance of the park, I notice the roof of the gazebo peeking through the trees, and I’m suddenly reminded of the night at the water tower with Grace. She’d told me this was her childhood spot.

My shoulders tense, almost as if I’m anticipating to find Grace in the gazebo. Which is stupid, because of course she’s not?—

---