Page 152 of Unspoken Truths

“That’s still so hard to hear,” she mutters. “My dad was never like that. He worked too much to spend time with me.”

“There’s a difference between working hard and being negligent,” I state, straightening. “Ready?”

“I still don’t like running,” she huffs, though she nods.

“You run with Lili,” I tease her, taking a slow swig of water before we begin.

“I do a lot of things I don’t like with her,” she sighs.

“Then why do it?” I ask, starting to jog at a slow pace. I like to ease in, especially when I run with someone unused to keeping up with me.

Elijah fucking hated running too, but started to go with me because he knew he needed it for rugby.

“I run because I have to,” she says. “I don’t want to be caught unaware again. There are other things too that I do because I need to, not because I want to.”

“Is swimming one of those things?” I ask. It’s a shot in the dark. I need to know that she’s learning to swim, though.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of about it, but she needs to know how when there are so many opportunities to drown. While it sounds harsh, it’s the reality of having a known weakness.

“If I wanted to tell you that, I would,” she says, shutting me out.

Recognizing that I pushed too hard, I focus on running, bumping up the pace periodically. Rachelle stays with me, though I notice when she starts to breathe harder. I refuse to slow down, and instead maintain that pace until I can run faster.

I want her to know how far she can push until she hits her limit, though I don’t want her to puke, either. Elijah will run until he vomits to punish himself. Rachelle doesn’t seem like someone who would hurt herself in this way, though. There are plenty of other ways for her to accomplish that.

I’ve shown her that my loyalty is split. I’m straddling the line between being a King and wanting to protect Rachelle. My chest hurts from more than just exertion, I’m physically hurting myself as I try to figure out what to do.

My heart wants Lili and Rachelle. It wants my best friends too, the guys I lost my virginity to, who kept me sane whenever I couldn’t sleep. Nightmares aren’t something I’m unused to, though seeing dead girls when I close my eyes is.

Keeping Rachelle close by helps me remind myself that she’s here, she’s alive. She may not be mine, but as long as she breathes, there’s a chance.

It’s a morose, possessive idea, yet I couldn’t care less. Fuck, I hate that I need to choose. My friends are on the wrong side of this, and I’m the reason for it.

We are running the perimeter of the fence, the men who watch the house amused as we pass by. I’ve been known to keep odd hours, while Rachelle isn’t. The fact that we’re running together is definitely different.

Some of my father’s men are very aware of why Rachelle and I should be enemies. I’m tired of staying away, worrying about her, wanting to see her gorgeous eyes as a way to see if they’re stormy and conflicted or clear and bright.

“Fuck,” Rachelle gasps out, forcing my steps to slow down.

“Work on controlling your breathing,” I instruct. “Keep your feet moving, even if it’s in place. Come on, go, go, go.”

“If you ever choose to go into the military, you have this whole drill sergeant thing down pat,” she gasps.

“I hate rules,” I say. “I would be a terrible recruit for the military.”

Shaking her head, she jogs in place with me as she takes a small sip of water. Continuing to breathe with me, she appears amused.

“Why is that funny?” I ask her.

“You play a sport, doesn’t that require some kind of following of the rules?” she asks.

“It does,” I agree. “Soccer is something I enjoy. I don’t mind following those rules. I will gladly do my part to win a game. I don’t need to be the center of attention during it either, though I am the reason for a lot of goals.”

“So modest,” she mutters, making me grin.

“I don’t know the meaning of that,” I say. “Being humble feels like an excuse to tone down your accomplishments, and you work hard for those. I won’t shove them in other peoples’ faces, but when I walk into a room, everyone knows who I am.”

“A King,” she scoffs, and I shake my head.

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