Page 34 of Damascus & The Wildfire
I’m free right now. Breakfast?
Kenna:
Brisket and I are about to go for a run. Join us if you think you can keep up.
Me:
Be there in 15.
I grabbed my gym bag and fired up my Harley to head to Kenna’s house.
She greeted me at the door, hair up in a high ponytail, sports bra and shorts leaving little to the imagination. “You won’t be able to keep up with me wearing that,” she jeered, lips quirking into a challenge as she pulled Brisket away from her door.
I held up the bag, and Brisket balanced on two paws as he sniffed it like he searched for contraband. “Just need to change. I wasn’t about to ride my bike in shorts.”
She giggled, the sound quick and bright, and I felt something shift in my chest.
As I changed into a pair of gray gym shorts and a moisture-wicking shirt, I found myself checking the mirror—something I hadn’t bothered with in years. Tight jaw. Scar on my temple. Thin lines around my brown eyes reminding me I neared mid-life, if I was lucky to outlive this lifestyle.
“You ready yet?” she yelled impatiently.
I opened the door to see her stretching in the kitchen, her high ponytail swinging. My gut tightened at the sight of her long, bare legs on display.
“You’re pretty eager to be left in the dust,” I said with a smirk as I tied my running shoes.
Kenna flashed a cocky grin over her shoulder. “It’s on.”
We set out on the trail, the early light glinting off dew-soaked grass. She and Brisket immediately sped ahead, a competitive streak I didn’t know she had beginning to show.
“Is this a race I didn’t sign up for?” I called after her as I closed the gap.
“Only if I win.” Her laugh drifted through the humid air. Brisket barked once, like he was in on her joke.
I let her keep the lead for a moment, admiring the curve of her ass, and then picked up the pace, falling in easilybeside her. My eyes scanned the trees and benches, automatically cataloguing potential threats and routes.
“So how long have you been a runner?”
She sidestepped a tree root and glanced at me. “Since high school. I volunteered at a center for women and girls. They had a running club. My mom thought it would be a good extracurricular for college applications. Those women had been through hell—abuse, trafficking, shit I didn’t think happened to people in my world. I loved how running gave them control. Something to do as they rebuilt their lives.”
“But it sounds like it was more than just a résumé builder.”
She upped her pace. “After my dad died, my mom married this lawyer. Things got ugly fast. It showed me how easy it is for everything to fall apart.”
I glanced at her, waiting. She didn’t look back, eyes fixed forward on the trail ahead.
“I started running races and marathons to raise money for victims of domestic violence and human trafficking.”
I strode beside her, admiring her compassion.
“What about you?” she asked. “You seem to be keeping up just fine.”
I huffed a short laugh. “I haven’t run much since getting out of the Army,” I admitted, a bit more breathless than I’d expected. “Did enough miles to last a lifetime back then. I usually spend my time in the boxing ring instead. Sometimes it feels good to smash Hatchet in his pretty face.”
She snorted, shaking her head, but her stride faltered. I noticed then how her lips pressed flat, a flash of discomfort tightening her jaw.
“You all right?” I slowed with her, tamping down the urge to reach out.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too fast, picking up her pace again before wavering, breath catching.
