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My gaze drifted toward the window. Cali. We’d spent years pretending distance was enough. In a town this small, all it had really done was postpone the inevitable. We needed to talk.

Eighteen

Cali

Shoes struck rust-colored synthetic rubber in a steady rhythm until my lungs burned harder than the memories. One lap became two as the sun completely sank, casting everything in a silver glow from the full moon overhead and the security lights around the track. I was convinced the Flint Hills had the most striking sunsets I’d ever seen and I wanted to bottle them up somehow. Wide-open skies that melted like vivid washes of color over hills that rolled like waves of grass, stretching endlessly toward the horizon.

But even all that beauty couldn’t thaw the part of me that froze the moment I saw him. Lane. This town wasn’t big enough for both of us. How was I supposed to breathe when every corner of this town could put him in front of me again? Was there any place I could go where he wouldn’t be?

Even thinking his name felt like dragging a jagged blade across my chest. Leaving didn’t erase every good thing I’d ever done. I was still the woman who stopped to help the turtle cross the road. The woman who pulled over for strangers, patched up scraped knees, and chose medicine because helping people was the one thing I’d always been sure about.

“Hey—slow down, Speed Racer.”

Landry’s voice floated behind me, light but already a little breathless. Slowing down meant that the thoughts could catch up. And they were faster than I was today.

The first mile always lied to you. It whispered that you were fine. That your lungs weren’t burning, that your legs weren’t tight, that you could outrun whatever was chasing you. By the second mile, the truth began creeping in. Maybe you should pace yourself instead of running like you were being chased. By the third mile, there was nowhere left to hide. Every muscle screamed for me to slow down and adjust my pace.

My braid slapped against my back as I pushed harder, arms pumping, breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts.

In. Out. In. Out.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else. Well, almost everything. No matter how fast my feet moved, those emerald green eyes stayed exactly where they’d always been.

Haunting me.

I hadn’t expected to see him there or for it to feel like that every time I saw him. All these years, and he still made me feel like it was yesterday when I’d been lying in his arms in the bed of his truck under the stars, talking about our future. About having babies and building a house. Dreams that hurt to remember because they belonged to a girl who didn’t know she was being used.

Fifteen years of building walls, creating distance and convincing myself that what happened back then was buried deep enough.

That the pain couldn’t reach me anymore. But one moment in his presence, and I was that girl in high school again.

Desperate to fit in.

Desperate to feel chosen.

Desperate to believe someone could love me without it being an obligation.

Desperate to believe I wasn’t too much to stay for.

And then I found out I’d built my entire future around a lie. And then there he was again, pretending my presence didn’t affect him the way his affected me. He was older, broader, and aged in a way that didn’t soften him, just . . . sharpened the edges.

But his eyes—his eyes were the same.

I stumbled half a step, catching myself before I broke stride. My breath hitched, my rhythm faltering. I bent over, hands on my knees, chasing the air for every breath.

What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to keep running into him and act like it didn’t matter? Hey, remember when you destroyed me? Hey, remember when I needed you, and I found out you were just using me instead? Hey, remember how everything burned to the ground?

No.

I’d never let him see the real me again.

I’d looked at him—really looked—and for a split second, something cracked. That scared me more than anything: the possibility that the pain in his eyes looked dangerously close to my own.

“Cali!” Landry nearly shouted my name as if she’d said it half a dozen times already, closer now.

I slowed to a walk for her to catch up, though my legs protested the change in pace. She fell into step beside me, her breathing heavier but steady.

“You trying to kill me?” she said, panting, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her face.