CHAPTER TWO
“ONE HUNDREDand sixteen, one hundred and seventeen, one hundred and eighteen….”
He kept an even pace, and I counted every footfall. His lean body moved with a fluid grace I might have been more than a little jealous of. When he turned in the direction of my house, he must have seen me watching him through the window, because he gave a little wave, then chugged on. I sputtered as my heart pounded and my mouth went dry. I closed the curtain, which made me lose my count and caused me to grow frustrated with the change in our… relationship. It had taken me six months to accept him near my property, and now he’d gone and messed up everything. Tomorrow I’d go back to fretting over seeing him, because now I had to wonder if he’d expect me to wave if I saw him, or worse, would want to stop and talk.
Despite repeated calls to Clay, he still refused to ask the man not to jog by my house. I pulled my phone out, sat down in the chair I had reupholstered, and dialed his number again.
“What is it this time, Matt?” Clay answered, his tone weary and unhappy.
“Please, Clay,” I begged. “You’ve got to stop him.”
He sighed. “Has something changed? Is he coming onto your property? Has he threatened you in any way?”
The temptation to say yes zipped through me, but he hadn’t, and I couldn’t lie.
“No,” I replied, running my finger along the arm of the chair.
“What’s wrong with him jogging down the road, Matt? I need something to go on before I can ask him to stop. Going up to him and saying, ‘Do you mind not making my recluse of a brother uncomfortable?’ won’t really do much.”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?” I barked. “You know I don’t like people near me, so why can’t you just ask him nicely, as my brother if you won’t do it as the sheriff, to find somewhere else to run?”
“Because….” He sighed again. It was something I heard pretty much every time I talked with him. “You know I love you, but I think you need to go back to see your doctor. You’re not getting better.”
It wasn’t true. As long as people left me alone, I was fine. It was when they disrupted my life that things went wrong.
“I’m going to talk to Mom,” he told me, his voice barely a whisper. “If you won’t see someone on your own, then we’ll have to see if Judge Hamlin can get you into a program.”
Which was more shocking? That my brother and mother were conspiring against me, or that I knew if they went to see Hank “Happy” Hamlin, I’d be committed for sure. The man had never liked me when he’d been my teacher, so this little bit of retribution would probably send him over the moon.
“I’m not coming back to town,” I insisted.
Clay made a humming noise, then said, “Okay, I’ll tell you what. You prove to me that you’re okay, and not only will I apologize to you, I won’t ever bring it up again.”
There had to be a trick somewhere, but I couldn’t see it. “How do I prove it?”
He stayed quiet for a moment, and then I heard him chuckle. “Talk to the jogger.”
“No!”
“It’s that or you come home and see your therapist again. You know he wanted you to stay in your sessions. He thought you were making progress.”
Only a shrink would say that night terrors and waking up in a cold sweat could be considered progress. Clay had me trapped, and the bastard knew it. There was no way I’d be able to get out of this. “Fine. I’ll talk to the jogger.”
“Oh no, bro,” he said, his tone triumphant. “This isn’t going to be you saying hello and that’s it. It’s not quite as simple as that. I need proof that you’ve done the deed.”
“I’ll save you a condom,” I snarked.
“A world of ew. No, I’m going to make this very easy on you. All you have to do is tell me his name.”
“That’s it? Are you sure you don’t want blood type, a DNA sample, or maybe his firstborn?”
“It’s a small town. I’m sure I know everyone. You talk to him, tell me his name, and maybe I’ll see what I can do to convince him that another route might be better for everyone concerned.”
I tried to figure out a way to get him to change his mind, but knowing Clay, it wasn’t about to happen. He’d always been stubborn, and it got him in plenty of hot water when we were kids. My heart thudded hard at the thought of having to talk to the man who’d been running past my property every day for the last six months, who now had acknowledged me.
“Please, Clay,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Don’t make me do this.”
“I’m sorry, Matt. I’m not doing this to hurt you. I want to know you’re okay, and this is the only way I know how.”
