Page 4 of Run to Me

I’ll pack them all just in case.

Graham

Tate

Maisy, did you make it to Walford okay?

Me

Yep.

Tate

Don’t sound so excited.

Me

Graham

Oh, look! She’s smiling!

Tossing aside my phone, I fall back on the bed and scrub my hands over my face, not caring if I smear my makeup. It’s coming off soon anyway, and I don’t plan on seeing anyone else tonight. Well, I hadn’t planned on it, but the chat with Tatum reminds me not everyone will welcome her back to Walford with open arms. Not after she ghosted them a decade ago. A couple of people deserve a head’s up so her arrival doesn’t blindside them. Unfortunately, one of those people is the man I vowed never to speak to again.

“Fuck,” I whisper to the ceiling.

My conscience won’t allow me to sit by and let others suffer, even if I had no part in causing their misery. If I’m able to make someone’s life a little less problematic, I try. However, softening the blow of Tatum’s past catching up with her will place me directly in my past’s line of fire. Oh, the things I do for my friends.

Snagging my wallet and keys, I barge out of the house and drive to Main Street. Then I cruise around until a parking space becomes available in front of the Noon Moon Café. Since it’s a Friday night in early December, everyone who attended the football game will be inside Bruno’s Bar, my destination. Everyone will witness the moment I break my years-long vow of silence.

On the sidewalk outside the bar, I breathe deep and shake out my hands, mustering the courage to face Jensen. I’ve been able to avoid him for this long because I keep my distance from Walford. Yet here I am, strolling into his territory like willing prey.

As soon as I open the door, a pair of striking chartreuse eyes capture me in their sights. I spit a quiet curse, annoyed because the universe checked off the items on my wish list when it created Jensen Holloway, only to up the ante with an attractiveness that improves with age.

I haven’t seen him up close since I was fifteen. He looks like the handsome guy who smashed my heart into pieces, but now he’s more. A short beard covers his sharp jawline, and his dark, wavy hair flows past his ears. Tattoos decorate the mounds of hard muscle wrapped in a tight black shirt and jeans—muscle he’s added to his tall, broad frame since I last saw him. And those plush lips parted in surprise? I despise the unwelcome flutters the sight of them stirs in my belly.

The whole image of thirty-one-year-old Jensen does things to me. I’m ashamed to admit I want him to do things to me. Thankfully, my stubborn inner bitch sends me an important reminder and bolsters my contempt: He hurt you, Maisy. Give him hell.

2

JENSEN

“Why can’t we hold the special election before September?” asks Tom-Tom Lee, who lets us shorten his name to a single Tom. He waves down my new employee even though I’m standing three feet away.

A guy sitting farther down the bar answers the question Tom asks every Friday night. “Idiots rule, idiots’ rules.”

A collective murmur of amens follows the statement as all eyes shift to the drunk man at the end. Walford’s interim mayor and former high school principal, Larry Olson, hiccups. I should cut him off.

It’s a mystery to everyone how the town drunk became the stand-in when the previous mayor died of a stroke three months ago. Walford’s bylaws allow the citizens to call for a special election before the end of the current two-year term, but it won’t take place until September. We’ll have to survive under the nonexistent leadership of Mr. Olson until then.

Ainsley Monroe’s chestnut ponytail swings when she comes to a stop in front of Tom. She brushes aside the long bangs stuck to her reddish-orange lipstick and shouts, “What can I get you?”

Tom taps a finger on his empty bottle in response, dismissing her to continue his conversation with his buddies.

I hired Ainsley when she rolled into town before Thanksgiving with impeccable references and a plucky attitude. She’s young, but she’s a hard worker with enough exuberance to make up for my lack of verbal skills. I’m the type of bar owner who’s better at listening than talking, but my customers don’t seem to mind.