“Because other than us, she’s the only person you message.”
Ethan would be offended if it wasn’t true. “Yeah, it’s her. How’s the equipment looking?”
“Great.” He tapped his fingers on the desk and looked around the room. “This feels good. Right.”
“I feel it too, brother. Like we’re supposed to be here, working this SAR team. Together.”
Connor dipped his head. “Yeah. Exactly.”
8
The steady rhythm of Maggie’s feet hitting pavement was the only sound on the street as she ran.
Deep River was so different from LA. The idea of getting an entire sidewalk to herself in that big city, particularly on a busy midafternoon, was unheard of.
She wasn’t sure if she liked this more or less. People gave the illusion of safety. Which was stupid, because who other thanpeoplewould runners be afraid of?
Maybe she was feeling uneasy because she didn’t have music. Her earbuds were still packed away in one of the boxes that sat in the corner of her apartment. Along with her tablet and her swimsuit and a million other things she hadn’t bothered to unpack yet. Because, honestly, where was she going to put everything? There was no space.
She rounded a corner. A couple of people on the opposite side of the road reminded her that there was, in fact, life in Deep River on a Sunday afternoon, even though most businesses were closed.
Another crazy difference between big cities and here—people closed their stores early on a Sunday.
Her phone vibrated where it was strapped to her thigh, and even though she didn’t know whether it was a text or a notification, her heart gave a little kick. She’d posted on her travel Instagram account last night for the first time in months. A post to let everyone know she was alive, but her content would be changing slightly because she’d left her job as a flight attendant.
All comments so far had been positive, but there was this pit in her belly that she’d get a message from that person again. The one who opened a new account every time she blocked them, making it impossible to completely get rid of them.
A shudder coursed down her spine at the thought.
Or it could be a message from Ethan. They’d shared a few texts in the last couple of weeks since that town meeting. And every time, she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.
He shouldn’t be affecting her like he was, should he? After all this time, shouldn’t her feelings for him have faded or blurred or at least softened into something more manageable?
This didn’t feel manageable. Thinking about him every day, wondering when he’d text again, looking around for him on every street, was the very definition of obsession.
She rounded the corner to the town square and ran straight into a woman’s chest.
The woman cried out, a grocery bag dropping from her fingers and the contents spilling onto the pavement.
Shit.
Maggie dropped to her knees and started grabbing items. “I’m so sorry, I…” She stopped when the other woman lowered. “Nel.”
She frowned. “Do I know you?”
“We went to school together. You were a grade below me. I’m Maggie?—”
“Sinclair. I remember you. You dated Ethan.”
If the silence that followed had a name, it would be “awkward.” One big, fat string of it.
“Yeah.” It was all Maggie said before turning back to the items and dropping them into the bag. Because what else could she say?Yes, I’m Ethan’s ex, and I still love him but you’re dating him so I’m trying not to think about him—trying and failing.
Nope. Couldn’t say that.
They both reached for the last item at the same time. Maggie got it first, only to freeze when she realized what it was.
Condoms. She was holding condoms that belonged to the woman dating her ex.
