He grins, and holy cow, he’s got the straightest, whitest set of teeth I’ve ever seen. “Which way are you headed?” He points in the direction we were both going. “My usual run takes me through the center of town. If you’re going that way, want to walk? I’ll hang with you for a few, if you want. Make sure you don’t keel over.”
I can’t help myself. My gaze drops quickly down his body as I give him a quick perusal. His tank top is absolutely soaked with sweat and plastered to the ridges of his muscled torso, and it’s seriously hard to look away. He’s cut. No doubt about it. Makes me wonder if he keeps in such good shape because he plays a sport at whatever school he attends.
My tongue darts out to wet my lip, and I swallow hard, finding my throat very dry. Is it like that from the run or is it because Mr. Hot-as-Fuck has to be the most attractive guy I’ve encountered, like, ever?
Everything in me urges me to use caution.You don’t know this guy. He could be a creeper. Maybe he was waiting for you to run past before he followed.All the things females are warned about. But,damnthis creeper is good-looking. I laugh inwardly at the direction my thoughts had taken. I’ve clearly watched one too many episodes ofYou.
Looking around, I note we’re in the expensive residential area just outside of the academy grounds. The gate to the wooded acreage of the school lies just up the road, and I have my phone strapped to my arm. If he gives me the creeps, I can head to the school offices or make an excuse to call my aunt for a ride.
“Sure. Why not?”
He nods and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Cool.” He slides me a brief smile, and I return it, wincing a bit still because of the stitch.
We walk side by side for a few paces, him with his hands propped on his hips, me trying to control my breathing.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “Do you run a lot?”
“Yeah, don’t let this fool you. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle and they wanted to make sure I ate”—I make air quotes—“a healthy breakfast.” I side eye him. “They aren’t runners. They didn’t realize it was a bad idea to eat before I headed out.” I huff out a laugh.
“You should probably say something. Can’t have you falling over or getting stranded out here all the time.” He tries to hide his amusement, but fails. “After all, you might not always have a gentleman come to your rescue.”
I smile. His attention is making me dizzy. “Right? It’s—I just moved in with them. It’s hard right now. I don’t want to offend them or make them feel bad.”
His brows lift. “I take it you don’t know them very well, then? Sounds like there’s some backstory here.”
“You guessed it—perceptive of you. It’s my mom’s sister and her husband. We only used to see each other once or twice a year. So, I know them … but not that well.”
“Wait. I don’t know if this is a dumb question or too personal, but why did you move in with them?” His curiosity is about to take us somewhere I don’t want—and sure as hell am not ready—to go.
I heave out a breath and stop in my tracks, my head hanging. My voice is barely above a whisper when I respond. “My mom. She—” I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut for a full count of three before I lift my head and open them again, meeting his gaze.
This is silly. Talking to a stranger like this actually feels safe, and way easier than telling my aunt and uncle everything that’s in my head. All the misgivings I’m having about living with them, attending Rosehaven, starting my life over without the most important person in it. What would it hurt to open up to him?
The understanding in his eyes reaches someplace deep in my soul. He grabs at the back of his neck and looks me straight in the eye.
I look down at my running shoes, studying them as if they’ll tell me how to respond.
“It’s okay. You don’t know me. You don’t have to say anything.”
“No. I know.” I blow out a quick breath and wince at the jab to my side. “I’m going to have to get used to this, I guess. She had cancer. She died three months ago.”
“Ah, fuck.” The word comes out forcefully. “Fucking cancer. That sucks. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, eyeing me carefully.
I can’t believe we haven’t even exchanged names and I just told him my mom died of cancer. Oh my God, how embarrassing.
I keep having to look away from him, but I can sense his gaze on me. I blink a few times and am surprised by his questioning gaze. His hand reaches toward a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen before he pulls it away. The tenderness on his face just about breaks me.
Shit.
A shattered whisper passes my lips. “I’m so lost.” I step back, wiping both cheeks with my hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t—”
And then I turn and run.
Fuck that stitch in my side.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I sneak downstairs before anyone else is awake, both to exit without a full belly and to take advantage of the cooler early-morning temperature. Connecticut in August is more humid than one might expect, and I generally prefer lower temps. Not to mention, I’m not a huge fan of the sun beating down on my pale skin.