Page 24 of Before the Bond
A part of me was angry with myself.
What was I thinking?
I was starting to realize, ever so slowly, what he was doing to me.
I needed to remind myself of what mattered the most.
This was temporary. Just like everything else.
I woke before dawn the next morning.
My muscles refused to cooperate with me as I tried to get out of bed. I hated that I was in a funk.
Was it because of last night?
I told myself not to even think about it.
Staring out the window, I noticed the fog was thinner than usual.
I needed to be outside. Anywhere but here. Doing anything but thinking.
I swapped into a tracksuit, grabbed my shoes, and let myself out through the east door.
Taking in the cold morning air, I jogged around the estate’s inner track. I remembered Donovan’s warning. I’d been thinking about it, actually — not with the intention of obeying it, but inthe way I thought about anything I’d been told not to do, which was to say: with skepticism. And the quiet sense that I could judge risk for myself.
Donovan’s reason was wildlife. But the Ashwoods, I learned, had this thing about saying one answer to cover up for another.
I ran the inner trail first, the one that looped the property and stayed within the fence line, and when I’d done that and my lungs had opened and my thoughts had quieted, I took the fork that went toward the tree line.
The forest at dawn had a quality I didn’t expect. The fog was lower, and heavier. Light shone through the canopy in long pale shafts. The trees stayed dark, pointy silhouettes.
Like stakes, I thought. Or their own set of fences.
Running put me in a slightly better mood. Focusing on my breathing, the ache in my legs, and the outdoors were finally putting my mind at ease.
I almost missed the shadow at the edge of my vision.
I dialed my running back slightly.
I thought it was my shadow, at first, but as I moved right, it quickly split from mine. I could see it more clearly for what it was.
It was the shadow of a man.
The cold bit into my skin.
I picked up the pace.
I had no reason to believe anyone would be out here except for me.
Could it be Donovan? Caleb?
I doubted it. The shadow was human, but standing far enough into the tree line that the fog made it ambiguous. My heartbeat picked up in a way I didn’t enjoy.
I ran.
Not back — I didn’t even think to, which I’d reflect on later with some embarrassment — but forward, because the trail curved ahead.
I’d rather see what I was dealing with than wonder about it. I changed direction at the curve without looking behind me. The trail narrowed through a stand of firs and I pushed through, branches grazing my arms.
