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Chapter Three
The ancient oak trees looked like giant sea monsters rising from the earth in the early morning twilight, the curly Spanish moss swaying from their branches like seaweed, as Hill turned a corner on one of the jogging paths in City Park. He liked jogging very early in the morning, sometimes before the sun’s rays had even peeked over the horizon, because the paths in the park were less crowded and the humidity and heat weren’t overwhelming yet.
Plus, it gave him a reason not to have to lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling as the sun came up. Even though it’d been almost two years since the fire that had taken the lower part of his leg, he still rarely managed more than four hours’ sleep a night. Falling asleep took forever, and then when he did, he was often jolted awake from nightmares.
A tree branch broke in the distance as a squirrel leapt from it, and the instant bolt of adrenaline at the sound of snapping wood had him losing his breath. God, how he hated that sound. Wood splintering, giving way, plummeting to the ground in a rain of fire. That sound and those images fucking haunted him.
He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, pushing down the memories trying to surface, and then refocused on keeping his strides even.Right. Left. Right. Left.He’d worked hard to finally get used to the C-shaped jogging prosthesis he used for runs. Being able to get outside and exercise were vital. Of all the suggestions the fire department’s psychologist had given to him, that had been the most helpful. Hill had always leaned on hard workouts to channel whatever he was going through at the time into physical exertion, and now he needed it more than ever.
He didn’t know how to do this new life—the one where he wasn’t at the station daily doing his job, the one where he didn’t have two working legs, the one where his ex-fiancée woke up every morning next to someone else.
But he knew how to run.
Until his heart was pounding and his T-shirt was soaked and he was too exhausted to think much of anything.
He jogged around another bend in the path, taking the long way, the morning light beginning to change the color of the sky and a woodpecker starting up a rapid rhythm in a tree off to his right. This was the only version of peace he was going to get today, so he wanted to enjoy the last few minutes. Once he got home, he had to set up a few doctor’s appointments and then meet up with his friend Ramsey for lunch to talk “strategy,” his friend’s new favorite topic. The lunch should be something to look forward to, but lately Ramsey had turned into the teacher in that old Twisted Sister music video, constantly asking what Hill was going to do with his life. As if Hill were some fresh-out-of-college kid who had unlimited options.
He’d already made that tough decision in his life. He’d become a firefighter. It’d been the perfect job for him. He liked being on his toes, not knowing what the day would hold, being able to help and protect people in a very tangible way. Now that was gone.Poof. Game over.Like he’d lost a life in a video game and now he was starting back at the beginning, only this time with his original superpowers taken away and no chance of getting them back.
He didn’t want to play that game. That game sucked.
The parking lot came into view in the distance, the end of his run in sight. He slowed his pace, preparing to cool down. The morning crowd was trickling in—the white-haired power walkers, a few college students, and parents pushing strollers. A lady in bright-pink leggings was headed toward him, a little boy who looked like her in tow. Hill shifted more to the right side to give them room as he passed them. The little boy noticed Hill as he got closer, and his eyes went wide. He pointed at Hill’s running-blade prosthesis. “Mommy, it’s a robot!”
The mother blanched, sending Hill an embarrassed look. “Flynn, that’s not nice. He’s not a—”
But the little boy had broken free from his mother’s handhold and was rushing toward Hill. “Robot!”
“Flynn!”
The boy stopped in front of him, and Hill slowed to a halt, breathing hard.
The mother was right on the kid’s tail, and she grabbed his hand quickly again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. He doesn’t know any better and—”
Hill forced a practiced smile. “It’s okay.” He looked to the little boy who was openly staring at Hill’s prosthesis, a look of amazement on his face. The sheer innocence of it softened some of Hill’s edginess over being stared at. He appreciated that kids didn’t play the polite games adults did. He remembered his little cousin, Jessa, at that age. Five-year-olds were honest as fuck. He lifted his knee, flexing the prosthesis so the boy could see how it worked. “I’m only part robot. We’re a secret society, though, so don’t tell anyone else you saw one of us.”
“Wow,” the little boy said. “Cool.”
The mother gave Hill an apologetic smile. “Thanks. Again, I’m sorry.”
Hill waved her off. “It’s fine. Enjoy your day.”
She tugged Flynn’s arm and got him walking again. The boy gave Hill a little wave and finally went with his mother. Hill walked the rest of the way back to the car, draining his water bottle in the process, suddenly feeling exhausted down to his bones.
By the time he pulled up to his house, he wanted a shower so badly, he could almost feel the water hitting his skin. But the path to get into his little yellow duplex was blocked. There was an open bag of soil on the front lawn, a line of pink and purple flowers in containers on the sidewalk, and a redhead on her knees in the barren front garden.Great.So much for a stealth entrance.
At the sound of his tires on the driveway, Andi stood from her spot in the grass and turned his way. She’d piled all of that bright hair on top of her head in some sort of spiky bun. Her knees were covered in dirt, and she was sporting what looked to be a pair of black Doc Martens even though she was dressed in a T-shirt and cut-off jean shorts.
The look shouldn’t do it for him.
She put one garden-glove-covered hand to her hip and waved at him like they were old friends. His mouth went dry and a flood of heat went straight to his dick.Fuck.
His two-year-long dry spell was making him react like a horny teenager. He took a breath and lifted a hand to return the wave. He took his time gathering his things, forcing his libido back in check before he climbed out of the car. He didn’t feel like having a conversation with his neighbor. He’d successfully avoided her for the two weeks since their late-night meeting. But there was no way to avoid it now. Pulling the car back out would be a little obvious. Plus, he was sweaty and disgusting, which insured a brief conversation and a valid excuse for needing to hurry inside.
With another bracing breath, he pushed the car door open and climbed out.
“Hey there,” Andi said, crossing the small lawn and heading toward him.
“Hey.” Hill caught the moment Andi noticed his prosthesis for the first time. Her walk stuttered for a moment, a little freeze of movement, and her attention darted downward, then back up, then down again. But to her credit, she recovered quickly and offered him a bright smile as she stopped in front of him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d moved out.”
