Page 72 of Concealed

Rebecca:I’m going for a run along the beach. The sun is starting to set, and it’s a beautiful evening. Thinking of you and wishing you could come with me. Hopefully, I’ll still be awake when you get home. Dinner will be waiting. Stay safe, officer.

After changing into my running gear, Wyatt still hasn’t responded. With a shrug, I put the phone in my pocket and head outside into the summer heat, taking a deep breath of the salty sea air and carefully locking the door behind me.

It would be so difficult to have a boyfriend who was always out of touch and worked impossibly long hours. With Matt, I was happy that he was gone so often, but the unpredictability meant that I didn’t always know when to expect him so I could be hidden away.

It also makes cheating so much easier.

But Wyatt hasn’t given me any indication that he’s the cheating type, and in fact, keeps coming back for more and more of me no matter what crazy thing that I do or say.

Surely, other girls would be a lot easier to be with than me. And something tells that dating him would be worth the sacrifices required to be with a cop.

The sound of my feet pounding the pavement brings me back to the present, and I click my MP3 player on, catchy top forty tracks motivating me to pick up the pace. No matter what I’m doing, I always need a soundtrack.

I’m still constantly scanning the street and always hyperaware of my surroundings, but my body is looser and more relaxed than it has been while out of the house alone since arriving in Sunnyville.

Every day away from Matt and every new thing that I do, no matter how small, is progress. Even baby steps in the right direction are still momentum.

The steady beat of my heart and the rhythm of my breathing give me familiar comfort. My body is my own again – it’s not bruised, battered, or nauseated by fear and anxiety.

I love pushing my physical limits with exercise, and it’s so damn good to have sunshine on my skin, dirt beneath my feet, and salt air in my lungs.

Sunnyville is a small town compared to what I’m used to, and people smile and nod at me when I pass by. A sense of community and belonging is what I crave, and both have always been out of my reach.

Even though I haven’t gotten to explore as much as I’d like, I love it here. And I’m going to stay and find my people.

Like Wyatt.

Damn it, I’ll never be able to run hard or fast enough to escape thoughts of him.

I glance down at my smart watch and note that I’ve done my personal best mile.

It’s exciting to scout possible running routes along the boardwalk as I consider how to make outside time part of my routine again. Once I become a local, I’ll learn the quiet places that tourists don’t know about.

This evening proves that everything is fine, that I’m safe, and that I can leave the house without a chaperone.

And then my eyes land on – Matt.

My gasp is so loud that it breaks through the barrier of the music beating in my ears. I stumble, nearly falling over as my feet struggle to move backward midstride.

No.

It can’t be.

Shit!

My gaze pops back to the spot where I spotted him – or thought I did – and he’s gone. There are just a bunch of sunburnt families with little kids eating ice cream. Nothing is out of place, and no one is here who doesn’t belong.

But my breathing is ragged, and it has nothing to do with exertion. Icy cold terror washes over me, and I’m crippled by fear and self-loathing. The calm confidence I just experienced washes away like the sweat pouring down my face.

How did I let my life get to this point? I’m so scared of someone that I can’t even go for a run surrounded by hundreds of people without imagining he’s here.

Dizziness brings bile to my throat, and I reach out frantically to grab something, anything. My hand finds the back of a bench that I cling to, all the while my gaze scanning everyone who passes by as though they could be stone-cold killers.

But Matt is gone if he was ever here at all.

Surely, I’m just paranoid.

But my gut instinct is to call Wyatt and talk to him while I run back home. I’m certain that I’m about to squash the personal best that I just set once I can get my damn body to move.

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