Sue’s mouth formed anOas she shook her head. “Wow. Sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s fine. I know you didn’t.”
Tyler returned to work, trying to pretend like the call hadn’t bothered him, but it had. This entire thing bothered him.
Rusty calling me at work, threatening me like that...why? Unless Rusty is the killer and is the one framing me.
Tyler’s hands stopped all motion as he considered the possibility. Robert said Rusty drove an old Trans Am and had been to the shop before. Tyler remembered the car, but not the man who drove it. Typical, really.
It hadn’t been that long since they worked on it. July, maybe, right after Irma Days? Maybe three weeks before Sheila’s death?Does that mean something?
He slipped into the steady rhythm of diagnosing and repairing, hands occupied and thoughts kept at bay.
Sort of. Brooke kept popping into his mind. Her hair. Her smile. The way her lips felt against his. How she made him feel alive after so many years of merely existing.
Her texts from yesterday were still unread on his phone. He’d seen the notifications—six messages and two missed calls. Each one was a reminder that he was hurting her by staying silent. But what was the alternative? Drag her deeper into his mess?
Brooke’s reputation was at risk. People were watching her and questioning her judgment because she’d been seeing him.
He knew she’d been put through the wringer before with Kelsey. And, exactly like then, Brooke had done nothing wrong. Nothing except choosing to trust the wrong person.
Better to stay away and protect her by not being part of her life.
The decision should’ve felt right. Selfless. The mature thing to do.
Instead, it felt like failure. Like he was running again, the way he’d run when he couldn’t face another day in Irma surrounded by the memories of Jen and Garrett. He couldn’t take it then, and wasn’t sure he could take it now.
Four o’clock came. Andre and Robert were working on something. He told them he was heading out. Andre lifted his head and said, “See you later,” but Robert only grunted. Tyler cleaned his workspace, put away his tools, and grabbed his lunch bag from the break room.
He drove home on autopilot. Turn left out of the parking lot, straight for three blocks, right on Cedar, second house on the left. He had a small rental with peeling paint and a lawn that needed mowing. He intended to mow yesterday, but taking care of Brooke while she was injured was more important.
Inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. Tyler dropped his lunch bag on the counter and stood in the kitchen, not sure what to do next.
Usually, he’d lift weights. The garage had a bench and a decent set of free weights he’d bought secondhand when he first moved back. Forty-five minutes of lifting usually cleared his head, burned off whatever stress the day had piled on.
But today, the idea of being trapped in the garage, alone with his thoughts, felt unbearable.
Brooke always said running helped clear her mind. She talked about it sometimes after Wednesday night runs—how the rhythm of her feet hitting the ground, the steady breathing, and the movement itself made everything elsefade away. Tyler ran in high school, but it was never like that for him. It was just sports, a way to stay active and enjoy time with his friends.
Even running with her a few times since they met hadn’t brought on the passion she had. He preferred lifting, the immediate feedback of weight against muscle and the clear proof of progress.
But running sounded good today. Maybe he’d feel closer to her when he couldn’t actually be close to her.
He changed into athletic shorts and a T-shirt, laced up his shoes, grabbed his keys, and headed out.
The lake was ten minutes away, a popular spot with a paved path that looped around the water. Three miles total, mostly flat. Brooke had mentioned it once as a good place for easy runs.
He pulled into the parking lot as the sun started dropping toward the horizon. A few other cars were scattered across the spaces—evening walkers, probably, or other runners taking advantage of the cooler temperature.
Tyler killed the engine and reached for the door handle.
That’s when he saw her.
Brooke stood beside her SUV three spaces down, her back to him. She wore leggings and a tank top with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Even from here, he could see the bandage on her head. It was a smaller size than yesterday, but it was still there.
Tyler’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.
Chapter 25
