Page 152 of Fly's Path

“Hopefully. After you forgive me, tell me more about yesterday, and why you aren’t excited about running with me.”

“That’s a lot to ask for.”

“I know, but I’m still going to ask you for it. Jealousy doesn’t seem to bring out the best in me.”

She glances down at her hands. “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone else but you. And even though I went to help Viola and she was playing matchmaker, it didn’t mean I wanted to be matched up. My life is exactly where I want it to be, mostly. Except I really don’t wanna run twenty miles this morning.”

“Why not? What happened?”

“Can you handle this without turning green?”

“Right now, you can tell me ten men threw themselves at you, and I wouldn’t be at all jealous.” Much.

“Good, because no men flirted with me yesterday. I just facilitated two of them making friends. There was an Army guy there who had been hurt. He was a lot like Gabe, just off on his own with no family or friends. So I convinced the two of them to start working out together. And they both decided to pay me back by making me work out with them. I mean, it’s my fault. What did I expect lifting weights with a professional athlete and a Spec Ops guy?”

It couldn’t be. “Did he tell you he’s Spec Ops?”

“Yeah, right. They don’t just jump out and say, ‘hey, I’m a Ranger’ or whatever he is, but you can tell. They’re a different breed.”

Special Ops guy at a rehab facility…that’s just too much of a coincidence. “Was his name Deacon?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t joking then about being in a biker gang.”

“A motorcycle club. And no, he’s a good guy.” Wait…didn’t he tell his father he thought that something fishy was going on with the girl he met? Surely, Sheridan would tell me if she was getting threatening messages or some creep was sending her flowers.

Would she? Sheri hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about many details of her life. Especially any hard ones, which clearly there are a few.

“Good, then you won’t mind him becoming my pen pal.”

What? “Pen pal?”

“Yeah, you know where you write encouraging letters to someone who’s doing hard things. I already have a pen pal.”

She already…“How many men are you writing?”

Sheri turns and smirks at me. “Are you really that jealous?”

Yes. No. “Give me a break over here. I’ve never been in love before. It takes me a minute to adjust.”

“Fair enough. But you only get a short time to figure it out. It’s sweet, but also it doesn’t feel nice not to be trusted.”

“I trust you. I shouldn’t. We barely know each other. And you’ve told me next to nothing about yourself. But Sheri, never doubt I trust you. This has to do more with my own insecurity than you.”

“I don’t share because I’ve never had someone to trust my secrets with. My mind screams ‘no’ every time I think about telling you something deep…something scary about myself.”

“You can take your time. I’m in no rush. Share what you can, when you can. That’s just fine with me. But don’t feel the need to hide yourself from me. I can handle anything you’ve got to throw at me.” I reach across the seat and take her hand. “Anything.”

“What about the fact that I’m starving?” She reaches down for her bag. “Granola bar?”

***

“Woman, I thought you said you were tired and wanted a nice, leisurely run?” I try not to bend over and gasp for air, even though my body desperately needs to.

“That was. And you’re right, your trail is lovely. I would never stop running with that as my view.”

Good to know, because I hope you join me every morning.

Patience. Sheri’s already skittish enough.