Page 2 of Runaway Girl
“When I said I wanted a partner, a husband, a father for my kids, I didn’t mean you. Oh, yeah, I washopingyou would be willing to explore all those possibilities with me, share in that future. But make no mistake, I can have all those thingswithout you.”
Ethan tried to step forward, but I didn’t let him, shoving him back an extra step. He managed to right his stance and straighten to his full height, giving me his severe stare. By his expression alone, I was glad he was now outside, in the corridor. He was livid—absolutely seething. I could tell he was gearing up to give meallthe words and unload on me.
Nope. Not going to happen. I don’t want to hear all his toxic mummy issues bullshit… not again.
So before he could spit his venom, I cut him off once more. “Out of all of those warped lies you’ve told yourself, Ethan. I will give you one concession. There is one fact that you managed to get right—you willneverfind another woman like me.”
Then, I slammed the door in his shocked, stupid face.
Strike one.
Chapter 2
ALICIA
Bad things come in threes.That’s the superstition, right?
I didn’t know if I could handle one more.
For the first time in my life, I told a partner,“I love you”.I didn’t know how it was supposed to feel after, but I didn’t think it was supposed to feel like my heart was beating out of rhythm.
After that disastrous conversation with Ethan, I had gone no contact when he left for his away game.
Yet, he still managed to send me his regular pregame text as if he hadn’t just insulted me in every possible way.
“Wish me luck, love. Looking forward to reading your commentary after the game.”
I scoffed.Is he for real?Yes. Yes, he was. The arrogant bastard.
We had come up with our own unofficial ritual over the years. Ethan would text me before he hit the field. I would send him a string of messages throughout the game—mostly of ridiculous observations—and he would read them after, which he swore helped him unwind and decompress from all the adrenalin, bringing him back down to earth. Seeing the game from the perspective of someone who didn’t exactly enjoy football apparently made my take on thingshilarious.
Not anymore.After his insults, I didn’t even bother watching him play. Why would I? I only ever watched it for him. And Ethan didn’t deserve my sharp humour and winning personality.
However, my ignoring him pissed him right off based on his follow-up texts that night, which became increasingly demanding as time progressed.
“Are you really sulking right now?”
“God, I thought that after our conversation, you would get over yourself.”
“Why didn’t you watch me play?”
“You’ve never ignored me before. Where are you, Ali?”
“ALICIA!!”
And after several missed calls?“ANSWER YOUR PHONE!”
I would have laughed at his blatant desperation, except I was interrupted by a different call. One that every person dreaded.
Strike two hit me with the brute force of a battering ram, dropping me to my knees.
Phil Thorne, my solid rock of a dad, had had a stroke.
I was still reeling from my mother’s sobs over the phone as she called her daughters back to Acacia Falls—the small town we spent most of our teenage years. I kept on zoning out in the passenger seat as my older sister, Alexis, sped down the highway leading us out of the city.
It was the middle of the night. Austin, my three-year-old nephew, slept in the backseat as my sister and I talked in circles.
When we finally arrived at the hospital hours later, Dad’s condition had thankfully stabilised. He still had a long way to go, but we were so relieved to know he wasn’t in immediate danger.
