“So what now?”
Henry smiled, looking down at me with an intensity I was beginning to crave. I pulled him down and made him a promise with my next kiss.
The Jogger
KC BURN
I wish with all my heart that you didn’t have to deal with this. I admire your strength and determination, and on those days where you fear you’re faltering, know you’ve got a huge community of supporters who have your back, whether they’ve met you or not.
THE ALARM chimed on Justin’s computer. He saved his work, then pulled the curtains apart and sat on the wide windowsill, waiting.
With a breathless air of anticipation, Justin stared at the sidewalk outside his house. A few more minutes.
As regular as church bells on a Sunday morning, the jogger came into view, legs pumping, arms moving.
The day wasn’t as chilly as the past few, since the jogger wasn’t wearing the bright teal knitted cap he’d worn most of the winter. Instead, his dark hair, about ear length with a bit of a wave, bobbed in the breeze. Justin tried not to blink as he took in the jogger’s strong form, cold-weather jogging attire covering up all that lovely brown skin but still illustrating how firm and toned the man’s body was.
Spring couldn’t come soon enough, in Justin’s opinion. The jogger was too attractive not to show off his body, but winter had taken that small consolation from Justin. At least winter hadn’t stopped the jogger from his daily workout.
Passing by Justin’s house, the jogger turned his head just enough to flash a wide smile, teeth white against full red lips. The jogger must have some Mediterranean or Native American ancestry, because his smooth brown skin lightened hardly at all during the overcast winter months.
Another few moments, and the guy was nothing more than a memory. Justin had an hour before the jogger returned going the opposite direction.
What was his name? He’d moved into the house on the corner of the cul-de-sac on the opposite side of the street from Justin less than a year ago, after Justin’s mugging. Even if Justin wanted to go out and introduce himself to the man he saw every day, he just couldn’t.
Today, the jogger could be… Raoul, a paramedic who jogged in between saving lives. Paramedics needed to be strong and friendly. Tough, though. Bad accidents would be wearing on their souls. Raoul would limp into the house, an injury from Afghanistan flaring up on days when he’d been worked hard and long. Justin would meet him at the door, help him to the shower, take him to bed, and comfort him.
Visions of a normal life with Raoul the paramedic drifted away upon the sight of the jogger returning from his run. The cul-de-sac led to a forest trail near the ravine, one Justin had jogged many a time. Before the mugging.
It hadn’t taken the jogger long to discover it after moving in, and every day the jogger took advantage of it, returning past Justin’s window exactly one hour after heading out.
Not a paramedic, though. Justin knew a paramedic’s hours were too erratic to allow the jogger the freedom to jog at the same time every day. He’d had a friend… although he wasn’t sure he still did… who was a paramedic. All his friends had lost patience with him, trickling away until all he had left was his work and the jogger.
The jogger who jogged by his house every day without fail, at the same time, regardless of the weather. Who had started smiling at his window almost six months ago. The jogger he’d come to rely on and fantasize about daily.
Raoul, Steven, Bernard, Harrison, Matty, Kevin—every day he’d come up with a different name and occupation for his mystery man. Every day he berated himself for not going out to introduce himself, offer to join him on his jog.
But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
The jogger flashed him another smile, face sweaty and flushed, as he ran past. Justin moved along the windows stretching the entire expanse of the room, following the jogger’s gorgeous ass as he ran down the street toward his own house. Scrunched into the corner, face pressed against the cool window, Justin got a treat. He watched until the jogger opened the side door of his house. The jogger ran his hand through his sweat-dampened hair before closing the door.
In the early days, Justin had watched him go into the house all the time, sometimes got to see him bend over to remove his shoes before the door closed behind him. But now that the Willetts’ twin boys were in college, the ugly-ass minivan that had taken them to a myriad of sports practices was an almost permanent fixture in their driveway, blocking Justin’s view of the jogger’s side door and the tantalizing glimpses of his mudroom.
Break time was over. Back to work. With a sigh, Justin sat back down at his computer.
AFTER DINNER later that night, Justin sat back down at his computer in the dark. His shoulder ached, a reminder of the fractures in his collarbone and humerus from his mugging. He should be thankful those breaks were on his left side. Although the pain occasionally interfered with typing, he’d been able to type one handed when required and was always able to use his mouse unimpeded. Presumably those bones were going to act as a barometer or thermometer for the rest of his life whenever the temperature began to plummet.
Tonight, television wasn’t enough to occupy him—distract him—and he needed some companionship. He pulled up his favorite multiplayer online game. In the game, he was a superhero. In the game, he could fly around unhindered by fear, and others in the game looked up to him, sought him out. Being housebound and a social pariah gave him plenty of fucking time to raise his skill levels.
But he basked in the companionship of his team, TheAmazon41 and le_diable_blanc99. They were the only ones who’d remained steadfast after the mugging. Then again, theirs was the only relationship that hadn’t been changed by Justin’s disinclination to leave the house.
Justin shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The howl of wind whipping past the window made him glance up, and he realized he’d forgotten to close the curtains. Heart pounding in his chest, he leaped up to do so. During the day, the open curtains allowed him to look out into the world, a world he’d withdrawn from while recovering from his injuries. At night, the open curtains made him vulnerable, like that big open sky was somehow invading his house, the double-pane glass no longer enough protection.
On a night like this, his solitude was even more painful. After he’d been beaten and stripped of his valuables more than a year ago, it had only been logical to close his office in town and work out of his home while he recovered. Getting groceries delivered, plus anything else he needed, hadn’t been difficult. Been prudent, really. After all, he had to rest, and he didn’t want his friends to bear the burden of his care. But as the days and weeks and months passed, he found it harder and harder to leave the house. Aside from nights like tonight, his bones had healed. The bruises were long gone and the scars almost invisible. Yet the thought of going outside, leaving himself vulnerable to a criminal who had never been caught, was untenable.
No matter how his friends cajoled or demanded, he stopped accepting their invitations. Before long, they didn’t believe his excuses, and calls stopped coming. It was like they’d forgotten him. Or could no longer be bothered, now that the demon in his brain overrode all their good-natured intentions.
Now he had his clients, his games, and his jogger. He was twenty-eight and alone and would just have to get used to it.
THE NEXT day, Justin glanced at the time impatiently. His grocery delivery was late. Very late. He’d called twice about it, only to be told that the driver was out with his order and would be there… when he got there. Bastards.
He deliberately scheduled deliveries and client conference calls so they didn’t interfere with his jogger time. And now, one delinquent driver was going to make him miss the jogger for the first time.
Justin drummed his fingers against the top of his desk, unable to concentrate. The light dusting of snow coming down meant the jogger would likely be wearing his teal knit cap and matching mittens. Privately, Justin liked the teal hat. He wondered if a girlfr
iend or grandma had knitted it for him. There was something about the lopsided hat with its fluffy pom-pom on top and braided ties that hung down near the jogger’s pecs. Made him seem carefree, as if the ability to jog out in the open wasn’t enough.
The doorbell rang, and Justin sprinted for the door.
“Hey there, Mr. McCarthy. Sorry I’m late.” Walt, the driver who delivered his groceries most often, set a fully laden plastic tub inside the door and grabbed the empties Justin had stacked there, waiting for him.
“No problem.” There wasn’t, not anymore. Walt should be done and gone before the jogger started his run, and Justin didn’t really want to harangue the man responsible for his food… and quite possibly his most consistent offline relationship, outside of the jogger.
“The roads are a mess today. After the thaw we’ve had the past couple of days, the freezing temperature last night made black ice everywhere. With the snow coming down now, no one can see it. It’s a fucking skating rink out there, excuse my language.”
Walt took the empties back to his truck and grabbed another bin.
“I hope you’re careful out there,” Justin said when Walt returned with his second load.
“Oh yeah. Knocking off early today. You’re my last delivery, then I’m getting off the road for the rest of the day. No one knows how to drive in this weather.”
Justin tipped the man and shut the door behind him. He grabbed the milk, cheese, and orange juice from the bins and raced them into the fridge before running back into his office, just in time to hear the chime from his computer.
The rest of the groceries could wait an hour. He had a jogger to watch.
AS PREDICTED, the jogger appeared wearing his teal hat and mitts, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. The jogger couldn’t take himself too seriously, not if he wore a hat like that.
The jogger passed by Justin’s window, flashing another wide smile. When he’d first started jogging, he’d run along the sidewalk on Justin’s side of the street and return along the opposite side. Several months ago, about the time he started smiling as he passed, the jogger had changed his routine. Now he ran along the sidewalk on Justin’s side of the street going both ways.
Justin had wondered, more than once, if the jogger knew he’d been observing, but that seemed impossible. How could the man see inside Justin’s window during the day?
Who was he? He’d noticed the jogger coming and going on his jogs. If he wanted to be completely stalkerish, he could stare at the house down the street all day and figure out the jogger’s schedule for the rest of his day. But that felt too over the top. He could allow himself the hour each day to watch the jog, since he’d only noticed the jogging by accident.
Maybe he was Rex, a fitness trainer. A fitness trainer probably had a schedule he could easily work around a regular jog on the nature trail. If he wasn’t working a corporate job, he could easily wear whatever made him happy, like a slightly lopsided teal knit cap.
Rex would love to work out at home too. Put Justin through the paces, then fuck him mercilessly over the weight-lifting bench. It had been so long since anyone had touched Justin, and he wanted Rex, the fitness trainer, to kiss him, lick him, fuck him. Rex would be very flexible and probably versatile. He wouldn’t be against some reciprocal action over the weight-lifting bench. Or even on the floor mats. Hell, this was Justin’s fantasy. Might as well imagine he was able to leave the house. Surprise Rex at the gym where he worked. Have an illicit interlude while trying to avoid any customers or Rex’s coworkers. Then Rex would play hooky for the rest of the day, and they’d go hiking. Or to the movies. Or even back home to fuck in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace.
Justin shivered and smiled. He wanted that so bad.
He peered down the street as best he could from his window, but there was no sign of Rex—of the jogger. Frowning, he checked his watch. Ten minutes late? That would be a first. Was the jogger changing up his routine? Or had Justin been so immersed in his fantasy he’d somehow missed the jogger’s return?
No. He didn’t believe he’d have missed the jogger’s return. Not when those few minutes were the highlight of his whole day. The snow on the sidewalk out front of his house, undisturbed except for the jogger’s footprints as he’d headed toward the nature trail, confirmed his conclusion.
Justin paced. And watched. He had the Willetts’ phone number, but the minivan wasn’t in the driveway, which meant it was unlikely anyone was home. And exactly how would he explain his concerns?
When another hour had passed, Justin couldn’t let it go any longer. He’d been made a victim along that very same nature trail, and he’d had a hell of a time making his way to the cul-de-sac to find help, even without having the additional worry of exposure and frostbite.
Consigning the rest of his work to the wayside, Justin picked up his phone without taking his eyes off the sidewalk. He hesitated for a few moments, but thinking of the jogger out there somewhere, needing help, he found the courage to make the call he needed to make.
“Hello?” Mark sounded gruff and impatient.
“Hi, Mark, it’s Justin.”
“Justin? This isn’t a good—” Mark coughed and cut himself off. “How are you doing?”
“Same old, same old.” Justin didn’t want to deal with this small talk, but he was about to ask Mark for a favor, and it had been a few weeks since he’d even talked to Mark. Mark had been the most adamant about trying to get him help, trying to get him out of the house—his paramedic training made him want to help everyone—but eventually Mark, too, had given up in the face of Justin’s resistance.
“What’s up? Ready to meet me somewhere for a coffee? Maybe a movie?”
Mark kept trying, even though Justin knew he really wanted to get Justin in with a psychiatrist. But he was willing to start with a coffee if it meant Justin would get out of the house.
Justin didn’t have time to rehash old arguments. The jogger, maybe, didn’t have time. “I need a favor, Mark.”
It took some time for Justin to explain why he was so worried for the jogger, but he felt he’d done a credible job. Mark was the perfect one to help him out, because he was a paramedic.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Justin.”
Justin’s eyes widened at Mark’s exasperated outburst. “What?”
“We’re heading to a multicar pileup on the highway, and you want me to wander around the woods because someone you don’t know decided to take a different route home?”
“He wouldn’t take a different route. There’s something wrong.”
“Yes, there is something wrong. You’ve built up that trail into something scary, and it’s affecting your whole life. Goddammit, you can’t stay cooped up in that house forever. You need to talk to someone, get some fucking help.”
“That’s why I called you. I do need help.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it. You’re imagining things. But if you’re so worried, why don’t you walk down the street and knock on this dude’s door? You’ll probably find him at home. You might have to explain why you’re acting like a stalker, but you’ll set your mind at ease and get out of the fucking house. Win-win.”
“Mark, please.”
“Seriously, Justin, no time for this. I gotta go.”
Mark hung up, and Justin stood by the window, hoping he’d see the jogger return. There was no sign of a bobbing teal hat, and he had to do something. Had to. Didn’t matter if Mark didn’t believe him. There was something wrong. He couldn’t call 911, either. They’d be less likely to believe him than Mark, and if the road conditions were bad, they’d probably be stretched too thin to come search for a man only Justin believed was missing.
Pressing his lips together, Justin walked back to his desk and pulled out the tiny set of binoculars he’d ordered on a whim about a month after the jogger had started his clockwork jogs. But the first day he’d pulled them out, intending to get a good look at the jogger when he entered h
is house, Justin had been seized by shame. It was one thing to casually look out the window and watch the jogger as he ran past, but using binoculars pushed Justin into scary stalker territory. He’d shoved the binoculars in his desk drawer and, despite the burning temptation, had never pulled them out again. Until now.
He zeroed in on the jogger’s house. Even if the jogger had taken a different route home, there would be no reason to believe he’d enter the house anywhere else but the side door, which Justin had seen enough to know was a mudroom.
The snow outside the jogger’s side door had partially covered footprints heading only one way—out.
Heart pounding, Justin went to his front door and opened it. A biting cold wind whipped in, bringing up goose bumps all over Justin’s body. How long could the jogger stay out in weather like this if he was injured?
The answer was not long, and Justin had no one else he could call for help. What was he going to do?
HEART POUNDING and stomach twisting, Justin had managed to dig out his winter outerwear and put it on. He’d grabbed a few basic supplies, ones he’d need if the jogger was injured, hypothermic, or dehydrated, and put them in a knapsack. A knife too, just in case. All ready to go, but he remained standing in his front hall, sweat dripping down his back as he tried to dredge up the courage to go outside.
Hoping this was all unnecessary, Justin went back to his study and scoped out the jogger’s house with his binoculars again. Snow had drifted over the footprints he’d seen before, obscuring them further. Fuck.
Back in the hall, he opened the door. This time, the chilly winter wind cooled him off a bit, but the daylight would be gone soon. He’d dithered too long.
Grand Adventures Page 38
