Page 49 of The Run Back Home

I turn around fully, my body reacting like it's surprised to see her despite my mind subconsciously hoping for this moment.

"Morning," I say back.

That's it after all this anticipation. And my voice still comes out as uneven as I feel.

I clear my throat. "Morning," I repeat, grateful that my hands are shoved into my pockets so I can't tack on a desperate wave.

Fuck me.

She offers me a closed-lipped smile. "Were you running?"

"Yeah," I say, bringing my itching hand to the back of my neck. "I usually don't get out here this early, but I have a packed day."

It's not a lie. It's just not the full truth either. But I can't tell her that I don't run here at all.

Lenny huffs out a laugh. "Any kind of physical activity kind of sucks after a twelve-hour shift," she says. "I've been trying to get here in the mornings most days."

She glances around as the sun continues to rise between our buildings. And just like I was the last time we were in this park together—with this same damn sun—I'm captivated by her.

The way the gold reflects off of her jet black hair.

The way that same hair makes the blue in her eyes pop even more than it used to.

How she's somehow new but familiar at the same time. Like waking from a deep sleep—recognizing the outlines of things you know are there, but they don't quite look like themselves just yet.

Still, my chest pulls tight at the sight of her—and I haven't decided why yet. Does she still do to me now what she did back then? Still affect me by just… existing?

Or is it a warning sign I'm clearly avoiding?

My body's way of remembering—like six years apparently wasn't long enough for it to get the memo.

"Late start today though," she adds.

Those first two words snap me back unexpectedly. I clench my fists in my pockets, my heart rate kicking up again as they bounce around in my head like they're looking for a place to settle.

Late start.

My mind starts working.

So she skipped an alarm—maybe two.

Why was she so tired?

Was she just working late last night?

Or was she… out?

I squeeze tighter.

And why does that thought piss me off more than it should?

"Gotcha," I throw back, almost grateful that it does.

Lenny rolls her lips together like she's not sure what else to say but not ready for the conversation to end yet either. "You said you're busy today. Game?"

I tip my chin up. "Yep."

"Against who?"