Running Away With You (Running #3)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  “I don’t understand,” I protest. She’s shoving her things into her bag and is ready to high-tail it right out our door.

  I’m helpless to stop her. In the few moments it takes me to gather my precious belongings, she’s gone. She’s out the door, taking with her all my hopes of a dream wedding.

  Derek arrives at my table with our appetizers. He is stunned, confused, and clearly disappointed. “Jette, what happened? What did you say?”

  “Derek, I swear, I didn’t say a word. I never had a chance to say anything. When I admitted to her who we really are, she freaked out and ran out the door.” I sit back down and slump down into my seat.

  Derek helps me clean up the mess. He takes the glasses back to the bar and Lindsay takes away the uneaten food. He’s halfway to our table with a mop bucket when the door opens and a sopping wet Shea Keilani reenters, looking frazzled and defeated.

  Speaking to no one in particular, she mumbles, “It’s raining. I dropped my phone in a puddle looking for my keys.” She stifles a whimper and adds, “And now my car won’t start.”

  “Derek, go help her,” I urge. “Drive her home and talk to her. See if you can get her to change her mind and come back tomorrow. Find out what has her so freaked out.”

  He nods and leaves the mop with me as he walks directly over to Shea, grabbing a clean bar towel along the way. I’m not sure what he says to her, but she nods in agreement. Derek pulls out a chair at the closest table and helps her sit down while he gathers his keys and his phone. She turns so she has her back to me, clearly avoiding looking in my direction.

  Derek rushes over to me with his wallet in hand. “I’ll call you when I know something.” And just like that, off he goes. What the hell just happened?

  I send text messages to Auggie and Evan, trying my best to play down the fiasco. I tell them that the first meeting went well and she’s going to check her calendar to see when we can meet again. I haven’t heard back from Derek, so I really don’t know what’s happening.

  I try my best to make heads or tails of the situation. All I can piece together that Shea and Laci were twins – they must have shared many secrets with each other. I don’t know what, but Laci had some sort of unfinished business with Evan. Perhaps she felt jilted. Maybe she felt used and discarded. Laci came to the restaurant once and tried to warn me about Evan, so I know she didn’t think very highly of him. As her sister, Shea must also have a negative opinion of Evan, even though they’ve never met. But Derek is a charmer. If anyone can get her to change her mind, it’s him.

  By the time Marcus arrives to relieve me, I’m starting to feel better. I’m positive that Shea overreacted because the loss of her sister is still so fresh. She probably thinks helping someone her sister disliked would be disloyal to her memory.

  Nearly every hot-blooded American woman in the world is infatuated with the handsome quarterback Evan McGuire. How is it possible that I get the only female on the planet who seems to have a strong dislike for my man?

  Saturday at the restaurant is nearly as slow and quiet as Friday was. Normally I’d be concerned, but this time I’m grateful for it. Emmy works the day shift with me and we finally get a chance to chat. Adam’s family took the news very well and welcomed Emmy and the baby with open arms. Who doesn’t love Emmy?

  Derek finally arrives for the second shift. I drag him into my office and shut the door. “Why haven’t you called?” I demand. “What happened?”

  “It’s complicated,” he tells me.

  “Not you too. No more of this, it’s complicated crap. Just tell me. Why didn’t you call me? Where have you been?”

  “Shea has a place not far from here in Holmdel. I spent the night there.” He has a devious look on his face. “Sorry I didn’t call. I was a little ... busy.”

  “Oh really?” I ask. “I take it you two hit it off pretty well, then?”

  He nods. “You could say that.”

  “Did you ask her about me?” The moment the question leaves my mouth, I feel terrible for asking. It sounds so narcissistic.

  Derek hesitates at first, but reluctantly admits, “She’s heard terrible things about Evan and some not very complimentary things about you.”

  “I figured as much. Do you think there’s a chance?” I ask him hopefully.

  “There’s always a chance, Jette. She’s meeting me here tonight at the end of my shift, and then I’m taking her out. Give it time. Give me time.”

  There’s hope.

  I have to try to take control of the situation before it’s too late. “Evan and I can meet you guys here. We can all go out together. As soon as she gets to know us, she’ll realize ... ” Derek is shaking his head emphatically.

  “No,” he interjects. “The only reason she agreed to meet me here is because I promised her that you guys would not be here. Slow down. She’ll come around. You’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right, Derek. It’s my dream to have a beautiful wedding, and Shea Keilani may very well be the only one who can make that happen.” I’m beyond scared – I’m terrified that no matter how hard I try, I may never be able to get married like a normal person, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  “You know it’s my life’s mission to make your dreams come true.” Derek gets up and kisses me sweetly on the forehead. He walks out of my office and toward the bar, ready to get to work. I know his words should make me feel better, but somehow they just make me feel worse.

  I gather my things and get ready to leave for the night. I’m going with Emmy to her house to help her pack. She’s moving into Adam’s house, officially. It’s about time, really. I can’t believe they haven’t done it sooner.

  Evan’s playing at home today. Callie and Dean are picking me up in a few hours. Evan’s already at the stadium, so I have some time to myself. I’m still upset about the meeting with Shea on Friday. It did not go at all as I had hoped. If Derek was able to smooth things over, I would have heard. In this case, no news is not good news. I wish I knew something.

  I need to clear my head. I need to run. It’s too cold and blustery to run on the beach. Besides, I promised Evan I wouldn’t go without him. So instead I suit up for a neighborhood run. Many of our neighbors have abandoned their homes, preferring to spend their winters in warmer climates. With Maddy’s leash in hand, I hit the streets.

  I don’t want to think, I just want to run. I fumble with my phone, turning on Pandora to choose my songs for today. As I jog past empty houses, I wonder about the people who own them. I don’t know any of our neighbors. Not one. Is that odd? On campus, I knew everyone living on my floor. Growing up, all the neighbors knew one another and the kids all played kickball in the street. Everyone here is a complete stranger to me.

  There is no life here. Not now. This place, which bustles with activity during the warmer months, is now quiet and peaceful. There is no traffic and there are no tourists. This is the solitude I craved during the summer. So why does it feel so unnerving?

  When I see the entrance to the boardwalk, I make a sharp turn and leap eagerly up the steps. The boardwalk is just as empty. The arcades and shops have all been boarded up for the winter. The homes and condos that line the north end of the boardwalk have been deserted, destined to remain empty until the spring.

  I find myself eyeing the beach, scanning for the surf fisherman who dominated the shoreline not that long ago. They, too, have gone. In their place I find the occasional treasure hunter, hoping to strike it rich with his metal detector, profiting from the discovery of lost jewels and trinkets buried beneath the sand, just waiting to be uncovered.

  A feeling of unease creeps over me. Is it the empty buildings? The barren shoreline? I quickly look around for signs of danger, but there are none. My heartbeat quickens and my breath comes in short spurts.

  Recognition ignites and I suddenly notice the song echoing through my ears is “Afterburn” written and sung by Averee DeVeau. It was her last big hit before the incident that almost end
ed Evan’s life. I listen to the lyrics and I realize that her biggest hit was written about Evan.

  How much more can I take before I’m gone?

  I wish that I never got caught, got caught

  Caught in the afterburn, totally lost control

  ...

  To him I was nothing, just a useless pawn

  His light consumes me, dooms me

  I'm caught in the afterburn, nowhere I can run

  ...

  He's dragging me under, can't tell which way's up

  How much longer before I’m gone?

  Caught in the afterburn, I'm caught in the after burn

  ...

  Just off in the distance, I can see Wilkinson’s Bar, the very place where it all occurred. I try to calm myself, but it’s no use. What is wrong with me?

  I stop to try to catch my breath, clutching the railing that separates the beach from the boardwalk. I focus on the rise and fall of the tide as it breaks on the shore, willing it to act as a talisman, magically calming my nerves.

  But the universe will not have it. Instead, a surf fisherman appears seemingly out of nowhere, fishing gear in tow. He stops momentarily, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small object. He lifts it and strikes the lever, igniting a small flame, which he uses to light his cigarette.

  Fire.

  My brain knows this man is not Ryker. The better part of me recognizes the fact that he is not there to harm me. But my instinct is to run, to flee, to get away from this situation, the sooner the better.

  So many things in my life are beyond my control. A checklist rolls through my mind. I cannot control the actions of a mentally unstable ex-girlfriend. I was helpless to stop her from entering my bedroom and kidnapping my boyfriend. I had no way to defend myself against the vengeful intentions of a madman intent on burning my house to the ground with me still in it. I find myself the subject of intrusive and unwelcome inquiries from my ex-boyfriend. And now I am unable to manage even the simple task of planning my own wedding as most normal people do, because Evan had to sleep with the sister of the only woman who can help me.

  But I’ll be damned if I won’t find a way to control my body’s reaction to it. I turn off the hideous sound of Averee De-Ho, quickly shuffling stations, and force my feet to move, carrying me away from this place. When I reach the end of the boardwalk, I turn around and run some more. I run until I feel my body begin to release the tension. I run until my mind is clear. My music is turned up, drowning out all the unhealthy thoughts in my head. I forget about sexy football players, demented pop stars, broken soldiers, and annoying fans.

  It’s just me, my music, and the feel of my feet as they connect with the pavement. With each pounding step, I can feel the pressure being released from my body. By the time I return home, I feel significantly better. That is, until I see Callie’s car sitting in my driveway. Shit! I’m late. How long have I been gone? There’s no way we’ll make it in time for the kick-off.

  By the time we arrive in our suite at the stadium, the first quarter is nearly over. I spent the entire car ride assuring Callie and Dean that everything is okay and begging them not to tell Evan. It would tear my heart out if he found out I was late for his game.

  I join Willow, the wife of wide receiver Carlo Rivera, on the outdoor deck, anxious to put some space between me and my future sister-in-law. Having Willow there is one more reason why I’m glad we share the suite with other players. Miami has just scored the first touchdown and extra point. I watch in horror as the Sentinels try in vain to pull ahead. It’s like they just keep digging themselves in deeper.

  As the clock winds down, it’s clear the Sentinels are in trouble. The cameras find Evan sitting on a bench, staring at the field in disbelief. As the clock runs out, the Sentinels are served their first loss of the season played at home, at the hands of the Miami Dolphins. The reporters rush onto the field to interview players. As ESPN’s cameras race toward Evan, they catch him shaking the hand of the victorious Ryan Tannehill.

  Evan wasn’t himself today. I could see it. He was definitely off his game. I know the feeling. I let Callie and Dean drive home without me, preferring to stay back and wait for Evan. I’m not sure what to expect when I see him. The last home game he lost was during preseason and I didn’t see him until hours later.

  After giving a few impromptu interviews on the field, he joins his teammates in the locker room, and then takes a quick a shower. I hang back for a short while, and then head down to the locker room and wait for him to emerge. He smiles when he sees me, but the sparkle doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He gives me a big hug but doesn’t have much to say.

  I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act. Do I acknowledge the loss? Logic dictates that he cannot possibly win every game, so the odds were that eventually he would lose a home game. But he knows that. Football is a game of predictions, and no one knows the game better than Evan “Big Mac” McGuire.

  He’s eerily quiet on the drive home. I take his hand in mine, lace our fingers together, and give it a comforting squeeze. He releases my hand and plays with my engagement ring, twisting it mindlessly in circles as he drives.

  Trying to break the heaviness in the air, I make small talk about the restaurant. I tell him about some of our new seasonal menu items and the winter cocktails Derek plans on serving.

  I only get one-word replies. That’s unusual for Evan. He’s usually happy to hear about our restaurant. “Evan, you’ve lost games before,” I remind him. “Why is today’s game upsetting you so much?”

  He reaches back over as he drives, grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses my hand gently, takes a deep breath and blurts out, “I got a call before the game. They arrested Ryker Donovan today. He turned himself in to the local police. He’s been transferred to the Ocean County Jail in Toms River.”

  “When did this happen?” I ask.

  “Sometime this morning.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” I have this sinking feeling that this is not entirely good news.

  “When I got the call, it took me right back to that God-awful night. It felt like it was happening all over again. He almost took away from me the one thing I treasure the most in this world – you.”

  I should feel safer knowing that Ryker is behind bars. But doubt eases its way into my mind, bringing with it all sorts of questions. “Evan? Do you think he’ll make bail? Will they let him out?”

  “I hope that never happens. If I ever get close enough to put my hands on him, I swear to God I’m going to kill him. You’d better pray he never again sees the light of day, or you’re going to be visiting me in jail for a very long time, Juliette.”

  Chapter Seven

  Face the Music

  The alarm goes off at six o’clock. We’re naked, tangled in soft white sheets. Evan moves slowly as he reaches over to turn off the alarm. I can tell his body is sore from yesterday’s physical punishment by the way he moves. He cautiously swings his legs off the side of the bed and he groans as he tries to sit up.

  My eyes follow the ray of sunshine streaming through the window as it lands on his body. His broad shoulders beg for my touch. I can’t help but notice the gentle curve of his spine leading to his trim waist and round ass. The perfection of his frame is the subject of many a blog post and fan page. This is the stuff Calvin Klein underwear models are made of.

  I scoot over to his side of the bed, lean up on my knees, and massage his aching shoulders. I pepper his spine with kisses as I work my way down, moving from his upper back to between his shoulder blades, and easing my way down to the base of his spine and his hips. He tilts his frame forward, encouraging me.

  His body is chiseled to perfection, with gloriously toned muscles, firm and defined. But today those muscles are as hard as bricks. No wonder he aches. As I work my thumbs up and down his spine, he winces from the pain. “Evan, you need to loosen these muscles. Do you want me to run you a hot shower?”

  “I don’t know, Juliette. I�
�m pretty sure I’m supposed to exercise these muscles to keep them from tightening up too much.” He swings around and sweeps me up in both arms, depositing me playfully on his lap.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. I love this man with all my heart. After a little playful canoodling, I peel myself off him and start his shower. He should be off on Monday, but because of yesterday’s loss, the team is expected back at the stadium by eight o’clock. They’ll do some conditioning, maybe a little weight training, and review the game footage.

  Evan doesn’t beat himself up too much over the loss. He once said to me that the quarterback gets too much of the blame and too much of the credit when it comes to wins and losses. Evan is competitive, and I just know that he will take his frustration to the next game and do everything in his power to secure a victory on the road.

  After he leaves, I throw on my running clothes and go for a pounding run on the beach. Evan doesn’t want me out on the beach alone, so I decide to send a text to Auggie so someone knows where I am. I also have Maddy with me and I know she will protect me and keep me safe. It seems like a reasonable compromise.

  I dress in layers, clip on my iPod and head out. The beach is uninhabited by humans and creatures alike. There are no dirty seagulls, which I prefer to call rats with wings. The surfers are absent, as are the fisherman.

  When I run, it’s just me and my playlist. This is the time I give to myself and no one else. The first song to play as I begin my run is OneRepublic, “If I Lose Myself.” It’s exactly what I plan to do – lose myself completely. Release my worries, my concerns, my fears, and just run.

  I try, I really do. I focus on the wind blowing in my face and hair. My hands are clenched into fists so tight that I can actually feel my nails digging into the flesh on the palms of my hands. My breasts, which have always been larger than I would like, bounce rhythmically up and down with each pounding step. I no longer get winded as I used to, so instead I concentrate on the feel of my heart pounding in my chest, pumping the blood to my extremities as I move farther and farther from home.