Page 16 of Breathe
Chapter 7
Kane was only on his second mile, but the sweat was already pouring off him, despite the cool day. His breath was fogging in front of him in embarrassingly short gasps. He’d wanted to do the full seven-mile circuit of the Charles, going down as far as the business school and crossing over into Cambridge. But now he didn’t know if he was even going to make it past BU. He really had been smoking too much, and with so many hours traveling or in the office, he was off his usual schedule.
Running was the only exercise he could stand. It came with the bonus that when he ran, he was almost invisible, especially when he wore his Sox cap. He could give in to the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, focus on the simple problems like getting enough oxygen to his muscles, without wondering if someone was going to take his picture.
But today was not the soothing break he’d planned. He’d woken up this Sunday after a frustrating Saturday spent half at work and half arguing with his heavily pregnant sister, whose useless boyfriend had skipped out again. The conversation had gone around in the same circles as usual, with Thea convinced Kane would kill Gabriel if he found him this time, and Kane unable to categorically promise her he wouldn’t.
His feet were hitting the ground so hard his teeth were rattling. He eased up a bit, saw the first bridge, and told himself he’d take a break when he got there. His lungs screamed in protest. Two women running in the opposite direction gave him a smile as they passed, and he didn’t even have the energy to do more than give a quick, polite smile back.
And the fires! They made him so freaking mad he was surprised his feet weren’t thumping right through the concrete. This was his company, goddammit; they were his mills and factories and printers and warehouses. His new equipment that had taken him three years to persuade the board to buy. His dream to convert entirely to recycled or sustainable raw materials within twenty years. His employees who’d come back to the company gladly.
Dragging a company into the twenty-first century was one thing: having a nameless, faceless threat attack it from the outside scared the hell out of him.
He let out a low growl that startled a family going past him. He had stopped at the BU bridge without realizing it. He tried to smile at them, hands out—I’m harmless—and it occurred to him that he really wanted a cigarette. Instead, he pushed his baseball cap off his head and scraped his hands through his sweaty hair. He found himself vaguely wondering if he was being watched, and if so, if he had the right proportion of sweat to leg muscle and messy hair going on. The press coverage of the last few days was obviously making him twitchy.
He wasn’t exactly vain; he just paid attention to the way he looked, because he was always looked at. He knew his looks made him as good a salesperson for the company as Leo or any of the rest of the team. When he’d started dating Didi and suddenly found his picture showing up in the entertainment, rather than the business, pages, he took the added publicity as a bonus. He knew that in those pictures he was merely the sideshow: the prop in a tux with a killer smile, there to make the star look even better. The Boston papers had loved it, singing their hometown hottie’s (he had cringed at that one) praises and seeking him out at any function he went to. As long as it kept the name of Fielding Paper in people’s minds, he was fine with it.
But the fires were generating a new kind of publicity, a new reason to take his picture. And he was worried, because he didn’t know if he could control the game this time.
He looked north, up the river, to the next bridge. He couldn’t face going farther away from home. Maybe he would just go back and sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe his eldest sister, Cat, hadn’t left messages on his cell, giving him a hard time for his argument with Thea, or for some other damn thing. Picking up his baseball cap, turning his back on the curve in the river, on the fading leaves—peak fall foliage had come and gone without him noticing—he began to jog back along the path to the Esplanade. To the Clamshell, you lazy bastard, he told himself. At least to there.
Despite the cold, there was a lot of activity along the Charles: families taking their kids to the playgrounds one last time before winter locked them all in their homes, young couples from the trendiest parts of Back Bay leaning against each other on picnic blankets, reading, or working on laptops, people chasing dogs around, illegally off-leash. Some of the dogs came up to say hi to him, which gave him another excuse to slow down, to pet them.
Lifting his eyes from a black and tan shepherd mutt with one eye, his gaze was caught by a huge shaggy dog that appeared to be trying to climb up its owner. The owner, who was in a long padded coat and hood, despite the temperature hovering around fifty, was holding a stick above her head and laughing at the dog, who looked like it would break its back if it leaped off the ground one more time. Its paws knocked her back a couple of steps; the long leash she was using on him tangled up her legs, and down she went.
He took a step toward her, to help her. Then her hood fell off as the dog jumped on her to get the stick. Kane’s mouth went dry, and his stomach turned over, like it did when he thought about fire. He’d seen that shade of blond just two days ago and had been telling himself to forget about it ever since.
No way, man. She’s already made it clear she doesn’t want you anywhere near her.
Yeah, but why was that?
Not your problem, remember? Remember her looking down her perfect British nose at your social life?
But when she got mad, she was even more fascinating.
And you don’t have the time to date anyone right now. Just keep on running, buddy.
But of course, just as he had done on Friday, he walked toward her, not away.
She was untangling herself, which was difficult as the dog kept jumping around her. Kane crouched down next to her. “Need some help?”
The sun was behind him, making her squint as she looked up. “No, thanks, I—” Then she recognized him. Her eyes went very wide. “Oh, no,” she breathed. She pulled with more urgency on the leash around her legs, which just tangled her up more. Also, the dog had the stick and was trying to run off with it, which wasn’t helping.
Kane took off his baseball cap to see her better. Damn, she was even more striking out here, with a dark red scarf bringing out a reddish tint in her hair, and her cheeks a little pink in the breeze. As he watched, they got pinker; she was looking at him as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
The dog pulled at her legs again, swinging them into his knees. “Cabo, no!” she gasped. But Kane was inclined to thank the dog. She was wearing a great pair of knee-high boots, which he could see better now.
“May I?” he asked, indicating the leash.
“Um,” she said. But she let go of it, so Kane started at her ankles, unwinding what he could while touching her as little as possible. Leaning over her, he could hear her breathing, taut and uneven. Jeez, was he that terrifying?
Cabo found a little slack in the leash and used it to launch himself at Kane, who went down in a mass of fur and legs and stick. Ellen’s legs, again, went with them, kicking him in the thigh this time.
“Oh, sorry!” she said helplessly.
He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but with the full weight of the dog on him (this Cabo had to be part yeti, he weighed so much), he had no breath for talking. All he could do was try and stop the stick from poking him in the eye. Once he’d wrestled it out of Cabo’s mouth, the dog hopped off him and sat, grinning, waiting for him to throw it. Kane sat up again, rubbed at his bruised ribs, and noticed that Ellen’s legs were beside his now; a row of rivets on her boots was a cool line against him.
This time he unbuckled Cabo’s leash from his collar—“You’re not allowed to—!” she began—and kept hold of him while he fed the free end of the leash through her legs and finally got her untangled. Silently she handed him another, shorter, leash, and he got Cabo hooked up again. Ellen coiled the long leash and put it down on her other side.
