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“I’d better go,” Rachel said softly, breaking into my thoughts. “Daniel’s just come home. I have to tell him the news.”
“Right.”
At least she had someone to share her grief with. I wanted her to have that, but couldn’t help but envy her a little.
“I love you, Rach,” I said, feeling the need to tell her that more often. Life was too tenuous.
“I love you too, Addy. I need to go. We’ll talk soon,” she said, her voice cracking, and she ended the call.
Love and life are so fragile.
I switched off the television that had gone on to the weather report. Though lives were changed forever, the world continued revolving. Sadly, my life and I remained the same.
My footsteps heavy, I returned to my bedroom. I went to the closet, withdrawing the notebook I’d put away. I opened it to a new page, then wrote down the date before beginning.
Dear Ella,
I miss you so much. I’m sure you have many friends.
I lost two of mine today. One was a boy I gave my heart to. He brightened my life for too short a time, and for too short a time the world had his music. The other was a girl who used to give me the courage to do things I couldn’t have without her. She made me smile when I didn’t have much to smile about. For a while, she was my best friend.
As my eyes blurred, I paused for a moment. It was so sad that Miranda never had a chance to be Ella’s aunt because her parents had chosen hatred over love. Swiping aside tears, I resumed writing.
Love the ones you love with all your heart while you have them. If you have a best friend in your group, hold tight to them and don’t ever send them away. No matter what happens, don’t let them go, even if they try to let go of you. Regrets make a lonely companion.
I love you so much. More than you will ever know.
Your mom
Addy
Seven years later
My ponytail swished back and forth between my shoulder blades with each step I took on the treadmill at the gym. I tapped the button on the machine several times, increasing the speed of the belt and its incline. My muscles protested, but I needed the extra strain. The pain reminded me I was alive.
One minute became two. Sweat dripped in my eyes, and I wiped it away. Glancing at the time on the treadmill’s display, I saw I was reaching the end of my workout.
Suddenly, my neck prickled like someone was watching me. When I was on the treadmill, I usually kept my gaze straight ahead. I didn’t glance around because it was dangerous to get distracted and I didn’t want to fall. Besides, I wasn’t at the gym to make friends or pick up a guy. I was there to work off adrenaline that had no other outlet in my life.
But the more I tried to ignore the prickle, the stronger it became.
I knew what it felt like to be watched. Eyes followed me every day when I went in and out of Footit’s Place. It was Martin’s doing, his way of keeping up his part of the deal. Nothing untoward had happened to my business since the fire, but I’d paid for the protection I enjoyed. I paid dearly. I never went near the Skellins’ house, and I hadn’t seen my beautiful Ella since.
Telling myself Martin wouldn’t dare make a move on me in a place with security cameras everywhere, I ignored the prickly warning and the icy frisson of fear that accompanied it.
I nudged the speed up some more on the treadmill and cranked the volume louder on my phone. Tempest’s “My Way or the Highway” blasted in my ears through my earbuds. I walked faster, feeling the kick of King’s bass drum in my chest.
Music had died for me at age seventeen. I didn’t experience it with all my senses anymore like I once had. It was no longer my escape. There was no escape, not for me. But music remained in my life at Footit’s, and like this in a limited capacity.
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned my head. I caught a whiff of cologne that was fresh and green like a forest with just a hint of tantalizing spice.
Trying to locate the source, I scanned the room.
Every machine nearby was filled, but across the gym, I saw a huge man striding toward the exit. He had gleaming black hair in a ponytail nearly as long as mine. The white tank he wore barely contained his sculpted torso, and the basketball-length black workout shorts he’d paired with it revealed that the lower half of his body was just as muscular as the top. He had an amazing ass.
As I imagined grabbing it, heat hit my cheeks and other parts of me. I hadn’t thought about a man like that in years. I didn’t analyze why, but I knew my lack of desire could be traced back to one person. My life that had been interrupted by Martin Skellin had remained on hold and had never restarted.
Mr. Amazing Ass disappeared quickly, probably never to be seen again, but my thoughts dwelled on him. There was something about him, something about the way he moved that seemed familiar.
