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“Yeah, I can see that. By why are you runninghere?” I wave at the neighborhood around us that clearly is last on the list for post-hurricane restoration. Doesn’t matter that it’s been over a decade since Katrina blew through. Half the houses here are just rotting bones, abandoned because the owners likely weren’t well off enough to rebuild after the natural disaster. Crappy houses don’t guarantee crime, but in this neighborhood’s case, there’s definitely a correlation.
“I’ve been increasing the amount I run each day, so here’s where I ended up. Why are you here?”
“Just because this is a good distance from your house doesn’t mean you should be running on this street. This area isn’t safe for a woman on her own.”
I expected Paige to either laugh off my concern like a spoiled rich girl who’s never had anything bad happen to her and therefore thinks nothing bad will ever happen to her, or that she’ll realize the truth in my words, apologize, and ask me to drive her back to a safer part of town.
She chooses none of the above.
“I know.”
For a moment, we stare at each other, me struggling to comprehend her simple statement, her waiting, for what I don’t know.
“If you know this area isn’t safe, why are you running here?” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out towards her. If I get my hands on her damp, salty skin, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe try to shake some sense into her. Maybe toss her in my car and drag her out of this neighborhood. Maybe pull her close enough to see if she still smells like a concoction from that over-the-top cappuccino machine in her parents’ kitchen.
The conversation in her house had me resolute that we were never going to see each other again. The Herbert family is the embodiment of everything I need to avoid to keep my life on track. Her father is the law, her mother is expensive cars, and Paige is …
Paige is temptation.
Even now, when I should just leave her here, drive out of her life, I find myself stepping in closer to watch the beads of sweat trace down her collarbone to be absorbed in the dark gray tank top plastered to her chest.
“This is where I found Pumpkin.”
Paige’s answer drags me out of my inner turmoil to focus back on the issue at hand.
“This is where you found Pumpkin?” I glance around the dirty street, trying to remember everything I learned about the brindle pit bull’s pick up from the rescue officer that brought her in.
“Well nothere, exactly. A few streets over. But this general area.” Paige props her hands on her hips, still staring up at me.
“So, what does that have to do with running here?”
Paige shrugs. “If I’m going to be running anyway, why not do it in an area where I might find abandoned animals? Then I can call it in to the rescue. Just imagine if I hadn’t been running here the day I found Pumpkin. Who’s to say she would’ve been found at all? I don’t even want to think about it.” She bites her bottom lip and blinks rapidly.
Hell, that’s not something I can argue with. I mean, my whole job revolves around saving animals. But I can still point out the flaws in her method. “Paige, there are rescue officers that patrol the city looking for animals. You don’t have to do that. Besides, you already admitted that this area isn’t safe for you to be alone in. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger on the off chance you might find another dog.”
She’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished. “I conceded that this area isn’t safe for an average female on her own. I am not average.”
Frustration has me growling, “People here won’t give a shit that your daddy is a judge.”
Paige snorts. “Well, duh. It’s not like my sole defense mechanism is yelling out my father’s occupation.” She shifts from foot to foot and glances over my shoulder. “I’ve still got two miles to go. It was good seeing you, Dash. I’ll text you about next week’s lesson, okay?”
She doesn’t wait for my answer, choosing to dodge around me, faster than I expected, and continuing her run down the street.
“Paige!” I curse when her only response is to raise her hand in a wave. Worried about what might happen to her if left on her own, I jump back into my car, mutter a fervent thank you when it doesn’t hesitate to start, and hurry to catch up.
For the next mile, I follow her, keeping my car to the same speed as her running. It takes only a moment or two for her to realize what I’m doing. She glances over her shoulder, meeting my eyes through the windshield. Paige gives me a dramatic wave, indicating I should pass her by. I make sure my head shake is firm and unyielding.
When I don’t follow her command, she throws her arms up but keeps on jogging. From that point on, Paige doesn’t acknowledge me in the slightest. Occasionally, she passes a person on the sidewalk, and I notice them giving my car a curious stare. I realize how suspect what I’m doing must look, but I figure keeping Paige from getting mugged is more important than avoiding looking like an ass.
After maybe a mile, her route takes her into a more gentrified area frequented by tourists. Likely realizing this at the same moment as me, Paige turns to jog backward for a few steps, giving me a thumbs up and a wink before facing forward and sprinting into a crowd of people.
I sigh, realizing how tense my shoulders have been.
My original plan was to tell Paige I couldn’t be her trainer anymore and text her the number for a few other options in the area. But now, I’m resolute that I need to see her at least one more time in person. We’re going to talk about her self-destructive choice, and I’m not walking out of her life until I know her running won’t take her to my end of NOLA anymore.
And when I’m sure she’s safe, I’ll leave her alone.
Really, I will.
