Page 130 of Worth the Risk

Grayson: Neither do I.

I stare at my phone—so many words I need to say, his voice the one thing I desperately want to hear—and I close my eyes as I remember everything about him.

Me: I’m sorry.

Grayson: So am I.

Clutching my phone to my chest, I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t even bother to fight the tears.

Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder.

Distance makes you want the person more.

Distance makes you realize just what the hell you are missing.

That wrecking ball didn’t do me any damn favors.

Deep breath. This will get easier in time.

It has to because, right now, this sucks.

My chest burns.

I focus on my breathing. On the cadence of my steps. But it doesn’t matter how fast I run or how much distance I cover because her goddamn letter is on repeat in my mind.

Just like it was last night. And the night before that. And on and on.

Fuck.

She’ll be back in a week, my ass.

The Kraft house is empty. All her stuff is gone. The vase where she kept the dead flowers she didn’t realize I’d noticed has been emptied. The hose she’d always leave stretched across the drive is rolled up on its hook. The blinds on the house are pulled closed.

She’s gone for good.

And I’m running. I run. Because I’m being a dick to everyone around me, taking this out on Luke with a short temper when it’s no one’s fault but my own. When I’m the only one who can fix this. But I can’t until I make sure my head’s as straight as it can be.

I run until I can’t run anymore. Until the lactic acid makes my muscles seize and my lungs can’t catch air fast enough. It’s only then that I collapse on the side of the track of Sunnyville High School and just lie there with my arm hooked over my eyes and my body exhausted in every way possible.

“I haven’t seen you run in years.” I should have known he’d find me here. I should have known he’d be the one to notice. “Not since before . . .”

Not since Claire left me, he means.

“Leave it, Dad,” I huff, but I don’t uncover my eyes, even though I know he’s leaning over me, blocking the sun for me.

“Nah. Not this time. I’ve left it for too damn long.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Yeah, well, neither am I. I’m not in the mood to watch my son suffer any more than he’s already suffered when the answer’s right in front of his damn nose.”

“Christ.”

“You’re going to need a lot more than Christ, son, if you don’t straighten up and listen when I tell you you’re being a total dumbass for letting that woman walk out without a fight.”

“It’s none of your business, Dad.”

“Like hell it isn’t. You’re my business. Luke’s my business.”