Page 145 of Run
“I swear, Ari”—Sophie puts a hand on her chest—“I swear I wasn’t doing the thing where I try to push him away because I’m being self-destructive. I was in. I was all-in.”
“I know you were, Soph.” I suck in a lungful of air through my nose. “Wait, why are we talking past-tense? This doesn’t mean you guys are over. He’s obviously going through something, and it sucks that he hasn’t been open with you, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be with you.”
Sophie wipes away tears. “But why would he totally shut me out like that? I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?”
My chest tightens. “Nothing, Sophie. I’m sure you did nothing wrong. And even if he had a change of heart, it can’t be anything you did that was a turnoff, because he was freaking crazy about you. He still is. He has to be. I know it.”
“I thought so, too,” she says with a sniffle.
I hop up and head to the little kitchenette to grab a tissue for my best friend, who wipes her nose with it. “Anyway,” she shakes her head and her hands. “I’ve been dwelling on it for days, and I don’t want to think about it anymore. At least, not for a little while. There’s nothing I can do about it unless I decide to show up on his doorstep and demand that he let me in—physically andemotionally—and I’m just not sure if I’m there yet. So, let’s just move on.”
“Got it!” I say a little too animatedly. “Moving on … This involves manis, pedis, and lots of Mexican food!”
ETHAN
I feel like it’s a bit of a betrayal, coming to the pub to see Lena without telling Ari. And my skin crawls with the idea that Axel could stop in at any moment. I could easily go to his house. I think about it at least six times a day. But I haven’t been back there since the night I trashed his place. I’m taking a page from Ari’s book. I’m trying to change. I can’t hold onto my anger and desire to strangle the life out of that motherfucker anymore. It just leaves me ill.
Instead, I look forward to all my days with Ari—and that future involves helping her figure out a missing piece of her past. A piece Lena has.
I walk up to the pine and take a seat, and the bartender nods in my direction. “What’re you having?”
I shake my head, then rethink it. “You got Genny Light on tap?”
He nods.
“I’ll take that please.” He fills a glass and places it in front of me. “Is Lena working?”
He stares at me a second then answers, “She’s in the back. Should be out any minute.”
I give a stiff smile and take a sip. Sitting quietly and drinking my beer as time ticks by, the bartender looks my way a few times, and when he sees I’m almost finished points at my glass but I shake my head.
Finally, the door to the kitchen swings open and Lena comes walking out, tying a black apron around her waist. She’s wearing a pair of jean shorts and sneakers, and a bright orange T-shirt with a logo on it. Her dirty-blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
“I rolled a bunch of silverware,” she says while approaching the bar, and the bartender nods in response.
“You got a visitor.” He jerks his head my way.
“Oh?” She turns and starts walking in my direction. I see her eyes pinch together as she tries to place me, and then her steps falter, but she continues. When she stops in front of me, her eyes trail and down my body as I sit perched on the stool.
“My God! What the hell kind of hormones are you taking?”
I can’t help but laugh. For God’s sake, if she wasn’t attached to such a piece of shit human being, I might almost tolerate her.
Actually, no, I couldn’t.
“Hi, Lena.” I don’t move to touch her in any fashion—hug or handshake.
“Ethan.” She acknowledges me with a nod as she places her hands on her hips. “This is unexpected. What, uh, what’s up?”
I turn on my stool to face her. “It’s about Ari.” I scratch my short beard, and she raises her eyes at me. “Who are Shirley and Bonnie Wilcox?”
I watch as Lena’s eyes widen, and then her face falls as defeat washes over her. I don’t prompt her to answer. I just wait for her to start talking. I’m not leaving until she does.
After a moment, Lena steps up and perches herself on the stool next to me. Resting her arms on the bar, she calls to the bartender, “Joe, can we get two shots of Jack over here?” He doesn’t speak as he steps up, flips two shot glasses over and pours the amber liquid into them. She picks one up and raises it to me. “Cheers?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I already had a beer.”
“You rebel, you.” Lena throws her shot back.
