If that random woman wanted him, why didn’t Anita?
A crush of grief flashed through him, so he subjugated it into the ache of his muscles. Which was both a good idea and an incredibly bad one. How was he ever going to compete tonight if walking at a level four was making him wish he had an oxygen mask? Patrick slowed the pace on the machine to give his ribs a bit of a break.
He was an idiot. A true and complete idiot, and not just for forgetting to take ibuprofen before storming out of the room.
Blog post idea about all the ways he sucked: First, he had gotten into that ridiculous brawl with Mikhail, which he regretted more and more as the pedals on the elliptical moved faster and faster. And then, just when he thought he was broken and would never be whole, Anita had asked him to unzip her dress. How could he have resisted touching her? He had beenimagining that moment for over a decade, and every scent, every touch, every part of her was better than he had ever imagined.
He had been mesmerized at the proximity of her skin, the way she had responded to him. Even now, trying to sweat out his anger and frustration, he could remember the addictive heat that had grown between them. Being together with her like that, it had finally been his way out of the Friend Zone, his one chance to prove to her that they belonged together, that he did love her. And last night, with her hair strewn out across his chest and her body in his arms, it had felt like she understood. Like she wanted it, too.
But she hadn’t.
The HIIT program on the elliptical cranked up the speed to six. Patrick tried to move with it, but the incline was too steep, and the bruises on his back screamed for him to slow down. Now he was a failure at this, too.
After everything they had been through, she had reduced that monumental night to a mistake. Amistake.
Though he tried usually to be as steadfast and honorable as possible, there was a brittle and shattered part of his psyche that wanted to spite her. Leave now, head home, abandon her before the competition tonight. Hell, his bruised ego wanted to move away from Lewis, maybe out to California or overseas, shut her completely out of his life.
Not that it had worked when he went to New York. He had seen her everywhere. Buying a blue cup of bad coffee from a stand, running down the steps to the subway to catch her train, turning up the collar of her coat against the wintry chill of the city. He had tried to escape her before. He had tried dating other women, but he had realized quickly how futile and empty it made him feel, trying to learn someone new when all he wanted was back home in Lewis.
Maybe he had not run far enough. Mozambique was supposed to be nice.
The brunette was finishing her program. She pertly checked her fitness tracker as she walked, then cast him a shy smile when she caught his eye. The middle-aged man huffing along next to him was also staring unabashedly at the brunette and seemed disappointed that she would not meet his eyes and his reddened face.
“I feel you, bro,” he whispered.
His phone buzzed. A text from Anita.
—can we talk??—
He had pined for Anita long enough. He had prioritized her over his own work, his own needs, his own life. He had needed a kick in the pants, and this was it.
Breathing more heavily as the HIIT program hit eight with a hill, he reached out and deleted Anita’s text before slowing the program back to a four.
California wouldn’t be far enough. Maybe Fiji.
****
“Hello.” John Flaherty answered the cell phone with one hand. He had the other around Katie, who was perusing a wedding magazine and showing him items she swore they needed for their ceremony and reception. Did anyone really need eight-foot-tall centerpieces sparkling with diamanté?
“Hi, Deputy Connell, Scranton P.D. Just calling in with an update.”
John could hear the grind of policework behind the other officer. He stood from the couch, held up a finger toward Katie to indicate he wouldn’t be more than a moment, then stepped out into the hallway. He hooked one thumb through the belt loops of his jeans as he leaned against the hideous 1970s wallpaper. Personally, he thought they should spend the money on repainting their house instead of huge floral centerpieces.
“Thanks for calling me back.”
“So we found the car, and the guy was inside. Templeton, right?”
John felt his pulse quicken. “Yeah, Mark Templeton. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Keep it on the DL, but he was shot from behind. Looks like the perpetrator was sitting in the seat behind him, fired straight through his headrest. We’ll know more once we get the report from the M.E.”
John let out a low whistle. “Poor guy. Any leads?”
“Not yet. Crime scene unit’s out there now processing the scene. Did find some long hairs, likely female, but can’t confirm until CSU finishes their analysis.”
“Interesting,” John replied. That itch scratched at the back of his mind again.
“Is the wife blonde?”
