Page 2 of Run for Us

My phone buzzes with a message, and I see it’s from Jace.

So how would you feel about dick for your 30th? I know it’s a sensitive subject, but dick always makes me feel better.

I dial his number, and he answers with a laugh. “You did not hire me a prostitute for my birthday, or any type of stripper, did you?”

His soft laughter turns into full-blown, stomach-shaking laughter.

“Jace . . .” I warn.

“What? I stand by the fact that dicks make everything better.”

I snort. “That’s because your boyfriends are hot. Knowing my luck, I would get Hobo Joe, who sleeps under the Sterling Crest bridge.”

“Don’t rule him out. With a good shower and shave, he might scrub up all right.”

“Could you imagine my mother’s face if I brought home a homeless man? She would disown me.”

“It would be worth it to see Aunt Vivienne’s face. Check your emails and don’t rule it out. Your thirtieth might go off with a bang after all, then you can cry and have your midlife crisis the day afterward. You need to live your life for you. Besides, you complain to Willow all the time that you wish you had three dicks. I would offer Micah and Zac, but Willow might hurt you.”

“It’s okay. I would prefer not to have your sloppy seconds.”

“Just promise you’ll think about what I sent you and free yourself while you’re there. Take a few weeks to find yourself. Who is Kinsley Ellsworth? Not who you have to be for your mother or those snobby clients. And stop being scared to live. Because you did fucking live, Kins. I know you don’t want to hear it, but none of it was your fault.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I run my finger along the scar tucked beneath my hair. “I’ll think about it,” I whisper, the grief clawing its way underneath my skin.

“Your scars tell the story of your past, but you are still stuck there with them. Anyway, I love you, but Willow is getting naked, and I need to beat those assholes to her.”

I laugh. “Go get your girl and give her a hug for me. Tell her to call me later. We need to talk about that damn book she made me read.”

Jace laughs. “If she isn’t full of cocks, I’m sure she will. I can send you pics so you can see what you’re missing out on.”

“I really don’t need to think about your dick. That is gross on so many levels. I’ll read the email but I make no promises.”

“Good.”

We say our goodbyes, and I decide to turn off all my electronics for now. The email can wait. Jace has tried toconvince me Wild Steps would be a good way to wash out my cobwebs, but taking that first step is hard. Every time I close my eyes, I can still see him and hear his voice. We were only eighteen and had our whole lives ahead of us.

Until that night.

I tried to escape from my life with a boy from the wrong side of the tracks. I was angry at my mom for trying to drag me to yet another event to meet boys I had no interest in. All I wanted was to be free, but my actions landed me right back where I started—under my mother’s thumb.

If I had simply accepted my life, Teddy would still be here.

It’s my fault, even if it was ruled an accident. Teddy wouldn’t have been out that night if it wasn’t for me. He is gone and for what? Because of a poor little rich girl who couldn’t stand her privileged life.

Wiping my eyes, I look around the cute little cabin. This is what I wanted back when I dreamed of another life: simplicity. Designing the interior for seaside cottages, not creating high-end dresses for people more concerned about perception than actually being a decent human being.

Teddy always pushed me to do whatever made me happy, and we’d dreamed of a simple life, but I ruined it all in the blink of an eye.

Chapter Two

Kinsley

Leaving the comfort of the cottage had to happen eventually. As I glance out my bedroom window, eager to feel the sun warming my skin, I’m happy I indulged in some clothes shopping before I left. Working in the city during the summer, I can still wear pantsuits since I never actually go outside and everywhere is temperature controlled.

I pull on a lightweight white linen midi dress; its elbow-length sleeves and high neckline hide the scars on my arms. The fabric cinches at my waist before fanning out into an A-line skirt that falls to just below my knees.

I buckle the ankle straps on my white leather sandals, then grab my woven straw tote, which is big enough to hold sunscreen and my sketchbook. Finally, I put on a wide-brimmed straw hat to shade my shoulders from the sun, then tuck sunglasses into the dress’s narrow belt. Perfect for a June day by the sea, while revealing nothing I’m not ready to show.

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