by Diana Gardin
Now that I’ve gotten to know Arden during our runs, all I want to do is learn even more about her. It’s the trap I didn’t want to fall into in the first place, but here I am.
Stuck in the middle of it.
“I don’t have any up at my house either. I’ve never decorated for things like fall. But wait until Christmas…then my house will be decked out. We don’t live too far from each other, by the way. I’m in the neighborhood just off the Main Quarter, before that ocean access road.”
“I know it,” she says, her voice cautious. “That’s a pretty area. I like how modern and contemporary the homes are.”
We’re about a mile from the end of our run when I speak up again. I can feel myself crossing a line, but I can’t keep from jumping right over it. If Arden had a husband, a family, I’d know it by now. I would have met them at the shop, where I’m almost a permanent fixture. I’m there every day after we run…it’s become our routine. Unless…maybe she’s married, but her husband works days. If that’s true, I wouldn’t have seen him there.
But she would have said something, right?
“Do a lot of kids trick-or-treat in your neighborhood, Bunny?”
I know it the second I’ve let the question fly that it was a mistake. There’s no more warmth coming off her body, just iciness. There’s a sharp tug on the rope as Arden’s speed increases, and I lengthen my strides to easily keep up with her.
There’s a full minute of silence. When she answers, her voice sounds hollow and hearing it makes my chest ache. Too far, Flash. Too fucking far.
But why? I can’t figure this woman out. Why would asking such a simple question push her over some invisible edge?
I’m not a complete idiot; I know she doesn’t want to get personal. Maybe she’s keeping me at a distance for the same reasons I ran the first time I met her. But that question? That wasn’t personal.
She sniffs, and regret pierces straight through my heart. “Usually. Usually there are a lot of trick-or-treaters.” Her voice is so soft, I have to strain my well-practiced ears to hear her. Beside me, Nitro gives a sad-sounding whine.
He can feel the emotions rolling off of her too.
We continue our run in silence. Arden keeps her thoughts to herself, the way she always does, and I internally kick myself for making her feel anything other than happy.
When we reach the front of the park and we’ve stopped to do our normal stretching, she speaks again.
“I think I’m gonna take off.” The pain in her voice is real, tangible, and I instinctively reach for her. My hands come up with only air, and I know she’s stepped away. The loss of her is more than proximity; it feels like she’s gone somewhere far away where she can’t be reached, even if I beat the door down. The discomfort it causes inside makes me pause, makes me wonder what’s going on; not just with her, but with me when it comes to her.
I can’t understand the connection that seems to bind us, the one I try really damn hard not to acknowledge. But it’s there, whether I like it or not. And at some point, I’m going to have to evaluate it, face it.
Maybe even do something about it.
“I just have a lot to do today.” Her voice continues retreating. “And tomorrow...I have stuff to do tomorrow, too. Can we pick this back up next week?”
Her voice is getting further away, so I raise mine. “Arden…”
“I’ll see you later, Flash.”
And she’s gone, her soft footfalls hitting the pavement as she runs away from me.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt like such a fucking asshole.
What happened to this woman? There was a time when all I wanted to do was avoid her pain, so it didn’t get mixed up with my own. But now? Now, it feels like a necessity for me to know what—or who—broke her so completely.
“So, how’s the training going? And when do I get to meet this mystery chick who runs with you every day?” The leather on my couch rustles as Axel makes himself at home.
After the consuming run with Arden early this morning, I’m physically exhausted and emotionally confused as hell.
Maybe I pushed her today. Maybe I shouldn’t have. But dammit, if I don’t want to know everything about her. I’m clued in enough to know there’s something in her past that she’s hiding.
Maybe hiding isn’t the right word. It’s more like she’s drowning in whatever happened to her.
Because, at this point, it’s obvious to me that Arden is the way she is because of something that happened to her. Whatever it was, it made her the person she is today; the person I’m getting to know, piece by tiny little piece. And a part of that person is in an incredible amount of pain and suffering that she tries to hide, but never, ever does.
“It’s fine. We’re taking a break, though. Not sure when we’re going to run again.” My voice is gruff, even though I know my brother has nothing to do with the frustrating situation.
“If it’s going so well, why would you back off?” The suspicion in Axel’s voice is unmistakable. “Did something happen that I need to know about? Did you have a setback?”
“No,” I growl. “I’m fine. The running is fine. We haven’t had a single incident, and Nitro and I are getting to know our route, and the way Arden runs, so perfectly it’s insane. There’s nothing wrong.”
Except for the fact that my running partner is skittish as fuck, and when I bring up anything close to being personal, she takes off.
“All right, then.” Axel sounds relieved. “Then what else would make you back off? Don’t do it, man. You’ve been…different. Since you started running again. Your temper has gotten better, I haven’t seen you throw shit around or punch a wall once.”
The teasing in his voice irritates me, rubs against my already raw nerves in a way that makes rage rise. “I feel like punching something right now. You volunteering?”
Axel’s quiet for a moment. “You into this woman you’re running with?”
I freeze. My hands, which were previously tapping out a beat on my thighs, stop their movement. “Why the hell would you ask me that?”
The smile in Axel’s voice is clear. “So that’s a yes.”
Frustration pours out of me in a groan. I can’t hide shit from my brother. And suddenly, I don’t want to. I need a sounding board or I’m going to go insane. “I don’t know, man. It’s more like she’s a puzzle I can’t figure out. She’s probably the only person I know who’s more fucked up than I am, and I can’t figure out why.”
“Let me meet her.” Axel’s suggestion is more like a demand, and I bark out a laugh in response.
“You’re high if you think that’s happening.”
“Come on. Don’t you want to know what she looks like? Why don’t you let me help you figure her out? This is the first woman you’ve showed any interest in since…since the accident and everything that happened after. And I don’t want you to fuck it up.”
Dropping my head and covering the back of it with my hands, I sigh. “I never said I was interested. This isn’t what I need in my life right now. I need to figure out my next move, career-wise. Or have you forgotten that I don’t have a job anymore now that I’m blind?”
He scoffs. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that we’ve had a trust fund our whole lives, and never had to worry about money. You have time to figure your shit out. Right now, you’re learning how to live again, in a different way than you’ve ever had to before. Stop pushing yourself to have it all figured out, man.”
Leaning forward, I raise my voice. “Do you understand what it’s like to have your entire life turned upside down because of a single moment in time? No, you don’t. So don’t tell me to stop pushing myself. I have to push myself. I need to get my shit figured out, Axel, because I’m going insane, feeling weak and helpless and fucking useless all the time. I can’t help myself, and I definitely can’t help anyone else. Do you get how goddamned maddening that is?”
I punctuate my rant by slamming my palm down on the leather couch, a
nd Nitro goes stiff at my feet. His growl is low and quiet, and I automatically reach down to stroke his neck. He settles back down, and I turn my head to look toward my brother. Lowering my voice, the tension in the room is thick and heavy. “I know you don’t get it. And I know all you want to do is help me. But don’t help me by trying to slow me down. Don’t do that, all right?”
Axel sighs. “Fine. Subject change. I want you to invite this woman…Arden, right? Invite her over tomorrow for Halloween. We’ll make dinner or something.”
Immediately, I shake my head when I remember how Arden reacted when I asked her about trick-or-treaters. “She’s not into Halloween.”
“We don’t have to dress up or anything,” Axel replies. “Low-key. Hanging out. She can bring a friend or two. I’ll be here. We’ll have a few drinks and maybe throw in a scary movie.”
He’s not going to drop this, and I can’t think of any more reasons to argue with hm. “She’s not going to say yes.”
“Ask her anyway.”
Pausing, I realize that this gives me a reason to go back to the studio tomorrow. If Arden doesn’t want to run tomorrow, that’s fine. I’ll bring in my computer, and make the phone call I’ve been wanting to make for the last week. And I’ll follow my brother’s instructions and ask her to come hang out at my house tomorrow night.
I’m not in the habit of taking no for an answer from Arden. And I’m not about to start now.
9
Arden
October 31, 2017
“Why am I doing this?” My voice sounds panicked, the pitch rising higher than usual as I turn to face Brantley.
She steps toward me as we stand in my foyer beside the front door. “Because, sweetie. You haven’t left this house, other than to come to the studio or go to the grocery store, since you woke up from that coma. I know that you’re in pain. And I know that you’re still missing them with every fiber of your being. But you didn’t die in that accident, Arden. And I don’t think either Trenton or Danté would want you to live like you did.”
Her words punch me in the gut, and my eyes fill with burning tears. I close my eyes against them, trying to protect myself from the harsh truth of her statement. I suck in a deep, rattling breath.
“Open your eyes, Ards,” she insists.
I do, and she continues. “I like how you are when Flash is around. You laugh, Ards. I haven’t seen you laugh in so long. And you run with him instead of running alone. We’re doing this tonight because you deserve to have some fun for a change. Okay?”
I nod, her hands still pressing against my now-wet cheeks. “Fun.”
Fun. Do I even know what that is anymore? Do I even want to have fun?
For a long time, the answer to that question was a resounding no. I didn’t want to feel anything at all. But when I’m around Flash, something inside me seems to loosen, shift. I’m not as rigidly tied to my sadness as I am every other minute of every other day.
When we’re running, or when he’s sitting at the counter in the studio drinking a cup of coffee, or at a table with Nitro at his feet, learning to read Braille on his laptop, I’m tempted to release my tight grip on the only thing that’s keeping me tethered to the here and now.
My grief.
If I let go of that, I’ll be letting go of them.
And I’ll never be able to do that.
“I’m not promising fun.” There’s reluctance in my voice, but I can’t deny the fact that there’s a spark of hope and anticipation in my heart at the thought of seeing Flash tonight. We haven’t been running all week, because I’ve been avoiding him.
When he brought up trick-or-treating and the emotions welled up inside of me that I had trouble controlling, I ran scared. I could just tell him; I know I could. Flash would listen, and he’d probably even understand a part of my pain. He’s lost people in his life. He’s lost something utterly important to his daily function: his vision. But something holds me back.
To me, Danté and Trenton are like a private secret buried deep inside. And if I open that box and let them out, they might be gone forever. If I share them, I feel like I’d be betraying their memory somehow. I don’t know how to get past that.
When he came in the following day and invited Brantley and me over for dinner and a movie on Halloween, like nothing had happened between us the day before, I was at a loss for words. And, of course, I told him I couldn’t. Immediately after the refusal, he asked what else I was doing that night. When he heard my silence and assumed, correctly, that I had absolutely nothing else going on, he warned me that he’d be back every day to ask me until I said yes.
Just like when he wanted me to run with him.
Apparently, when Flash Jackson decides he wants something, he doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s a personality trait I find both fascinating and maddening.
A few minutes later, Brantley and I are strolling up the stone walkway leading to Flash’s front door. I glance around me in admiration. He lives in a neighborhood not far from the coastal side of Savannah, and the fresh, salty breeze coming in off the ocean tickles our noses as we stand on the porch. The house is low and long, with plenty of lush greenery lining the front yard. Palmettos are the featured plant, and I can tell from the size of the house and the grandness of the others in the neighborhood that Flash has some wealth to his name.
The money doesn’t matter to me at all, but it surprises me because he doesn’t carry himself like a man who has everything at his fingertips. I learned that he has a military background during one of our runs, and I find myself wondering how he acquired his obvious financial security. There’s more to Flash than I’ve figured out, and I remember with a start that getting to know someone is like peeling back the plentiful layers of an onion, and it’s an activity I used to enjoy.
Before.
There’s a six-pack of beer hanging from both Brantley and my hands. When the door opens and Flash’s large body looms in the doorway before us, I suck in a sharp breath as I take him in.
I’m used to seeing him in running clothes, and now he’s dressed distinctly different from that norm. He’s wearing dark jeans that hug his obviously muscular legs. His flat stomach and broad chest are covered in a black Henley sweater that he’s shoved up to his elbows. His forearms, darkly tanned, are scattered with dark hair and my eyes stray from one point on his body to the next, drinking him in without even realizing I’m doing it. Down by his side, Nitro gives a friendly chuff.
My stomach flutters, and I clench it tightly to keep the butterflies in check. I shut my eyes tightly and ask myself what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
“Hello, ladies,” Flash greets us with one of his half-grins. “Glad you found it okay.”
I say nothing, and my feet don’t seem to want to move, even though he’s shifted aside to let us into the house.
Brantley elbows me in the side, and I jerk back to life. “Um, yeah. You actually don’t live too far from me. It was only a ten-minute drive to get here.”
“Awesome,” he answers. He gestures once we’re inside the long front hallway, down toward where I can see the wall of windows at the back of the house. “Come on in, and welcome.”
He holds out his hands to us and waits expectantly. Brantley looks confused, but I just smile and place my six-pack in the hand that isn’t holding Nitro’s harness leash.
Brantley holds onto hers, but curiosity forces her to ask the question. “How’d you know we brought something?”
Flash grins. “Because you’re Southern women. And Southern women always bring shit to a party.”
Without thinking, I slap Flash lightly on the arm. “That’s sexist.”
He lifts a brow behind his sunglasses. “Sexist but true?”
Brantley giggles as we follow Flash down the hallway and enter a large, open great room with hugely tall ceilings. Light-colored wood runs in beams across the vaulted top, and the wide-plank hardwood floors are the same color. The décor is casual but not of the bachelor-pad va
riety, like I would have expected. It’s comfortable and welcoming. The large open great room is separated from the kitchen by the most enormous island I’ve ever seen, and I thought my own was pretty big. The steel countertop is crowded with platters of food.
Brantley places her beer beside the food, and we’re greeted by another man sitting on a barstool facing the great room.
He offers us a friendly smile. “Ladies.”
Flash comes up behind me. I don’t turn, but the hairs on my arms stand on end, simply because of his presence.
“Arden, Brantley…this is my brother, Axel. Axel…this is my running partner, Arden, and her friend, Brantley.” Flash’s hand rests gently against the small of my back as he introduces me to his brother.
The gesture shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s small and insignificant, something any guy would do when standing beside a woman he’s familiar with.
Flash isn’t just any guy, though, and I’m starting to realize, as my heartbeat picks up in my chest, that I’m not any woman, either. I wonder idly how he even knew exactly where to place his hand…is he now so attuned to me that he can find me, even in his permanent state of darkness?
And if so, why is that thought so…incredibly comforting and, at the same time, so utterly disconcerting?
Taking a subtle step to my right, ignoring the near-ache inside me at the loss of his palm on my back, I shake Axel’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Axel shakes my hand, and then Brantley’s. I notice with a tug of amusement that he holds Brantley’s a beat too long, and that her cheeks are pink when he drops it. When he tears his gaze from hers and focuses on me, there’s intense curiosity in his steely gray eyes.
Immediately, I’m distracted as my thoughts return to Flash. Are his eyes the same color as Axel’s? Will I ever know what his eyes look like?
“—Been wanting to meet this mysterious woman who’s got my brother running again.”
