Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(37)

I narrowed my eyes. “Why is that, exactly?”

She stared at me, tilted her head a little, then exhaled a slow breath, compassion softening her expression. Her voice lowered. “Because I like you.”

My chest felt heavy at the weight of her statement: the tone in which she said it, like that fact represented our beginning and end, and the way she stared at me, like she wanted me so badly but for all of our sakes had resigned herself to the fact that it could never happen.

Shit had gotten too real in here.

We were in serious need of some mood lightening.

“So you wanted to f*ck my brains out when you didn’t like me?”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Pretty much.”

“But now that I’m a decent guy, sex is off the table?”

“Not…quite.”

Confused as hell, I shook my head, gripped the steering wheel, and put the truck in gear. So I was close to the reason, but no cigar. “Don’t follow. Gonna need more.”

We pulled out of her neighborhood, then onto the highway toward the longer trail I’d planned on tackling before she replied. “It’s complicated.”

I grunted. “Sounds familiar.”

Yet my excuse thrown back at me didn’t sit well in my gut.

“Sooo…do you need help with gear for the 70’s party?” Kiki crossed her arms over her chest again.

“Nope.” Yep. If she was going to shut down and change topics, I wasn’t playing along. In fact, I thought as I sped down the highway more determined than ever, I wasn’t playing at all.





Kiki…

As Darren drove and the tension in his truck thickened, my thoughts twisted into a chaotic mess. My head began to hurt. It matched my aching heart.

Shutting him down bothered me, but I had no choice.

I couldn’t handle more.

Fear had paralyzed me the moment I’d let down my guard on his living room floor—that I could want someone that badly, straight to my soul; that I might reach for it, let it happen.

And then lose it. Lose him.

Better to have loved and lost? My ass. Loss after love was devastating. It shredded you apart. It crippled your ability to trust in love ever again.

Or maybe that was just me.

But my heart felt heavy with guilt the entire ride to the trailhead. Darren’s frustration radiated off of him. I didn’t want to close him out, but letting him in wasn’t an option.

The instant we parked, he shoved open his door. “Let’s go, Flash. You wanna survive this race, we’ve gotta up your game.”

I jumped out as his door slammed shut. “Up my game?”

“You started the training methods I emailed you about, right?”

“Yes. Even-paced trail runs. On alternating days, wind sprints on the uphills.”

“Good. Today’s a new trail, but this run’s also for time. Four miles. Push your limits. Sprint the steeps. Run the straightaways.”

Right. Punishment. “And the downhills?”

He dropped me a deadpan expression. “Use your head.”

Don’t fall on it, in other words. “Got it.”

While he tightened his left shoe, I tore off, running toward the gentle incline of the trail. After nearly two weeks of running every day, I knew my upwards speed, knew when my muscles burned, knew how much I’d get from them before they gave out.

All I could hear were my own footfalls, my pulse pounding in my ears, the rasp of my breath from my parted lips. A brisk north wind chilled my face. The branches of the pine trees swayed.

As I fell into the rhythm of the run, all thoughts in my head melted away.

A slow burn warmed my muscles. But I pushed them further. Not solely because Darren had challenged me. Also because I enjoyed the reprieve and didn’t want to deal with him right now. Our early arrival at the remote trail—plus my head start—gave me a run in solitude.

And he was far behind me. Or so I’d thought.

On the first steep incline, he barreled ahead.

“Show off!” I accused as I pushed my legs.

“Keep up, Flash. Let’s see whatcha got.”

Resolve pulsed through me, fueling my drive to run harder. Sure, he had longer legs, hence a longer stride. And maybe he’d been running longer than I had.

But he hadn’t been training daily.

And I had a sudden determination to best him. His actions reeked of him thinking he could win at this. I needed to prove to myself that I was in control, no matter the obstacles.

He remained ahead of me during the rest of the punishing incline. On the straightaway, I gained ground, but I slowed to catch my breath, pacing myself.

On the second left-hand turn, I passed him.

For the rest of the run, I never looked back.

I could feel him right behind me, though.

The new trail was glorious. Lots of surprises. Plenty of hairpin turns and challenging climbs. Two recent bends had moss-covered boulders that stair-stepped upward; one, I had to scrabble over its enormous granite surface.

The challenging run left no room for anything other than pinpoint focus on the task at hand.

On several downhill sections, I pushed my pace: not quite walking, not quite running, but instead planting one foot after the other in a focused stair-stepping power march. A couple of times, an avalanche of small pebbles caused me to power slide several feet, but I never lost my footing.