“Fuck no. I’m not kidding.”
He said fuck.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say fuck.
Honestly, this is just weird. He’s a guard. Not my friend.
Although, he kind of is my friend. He was so nice to me. So damned nice. I owe him everything for making life in there not so utterly terrifying for me.
Running though? Absolutely not.
“I don’t run,” I say, shaking my head.
He crosses his arms. “You do now.”
“No, seriously, Officer Co—”
“Ethan,” he cuts me off.
I growl. “Ethan. I don’t run. You don’t seem to be hearing that.”
“I’m hearing it just fine. I don’t care. I’m telling you, from now on, you run.”
“No. No thanks.”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
I stand my ground. I’m not running.
“I’m not leaving until you do. One block. Hurry up.”
“You’re not the damned boss of me out here,” I snap, crossing my arms.
“That’s very childish, Callie. I’ll wait.”
He sits on my sofa, and with a frustrated growl, because I know he won’t leave, I stomp to my room and grab my shoes. Shoes that, of course, have never been used for running.
I went shopping the second day out, and got all this stuff. Joanne was kind enough to buy the essentials for me. I got some shoes, mostly for walking around and looking for jobs in. Not running. Never for running.
With a frustrated huff, I get changed into something more run-worthy—a pair of tight black pants and a tank—and then I throw my hair up into a ponytail and put the damned running shoes on. Damn this man. I can’t believe he’s making me do this. I have no idea how he thinks running is going to make things feel better. It won’t.
I walk out and give him a look that tells him I’m not happy with his decision, and then I mutter, “Let’s go.”
He stands up, claps his hands together, and we walk out the front door.
This is the worst day of my life.
Okay, slightly dramatic.
But it’s close. So damned close.
Screw running.
WHEEZING, I DOUBLE over and glare at Ethan. “This is horrible. What is wrong with you? Did you get dropped on your head as a child? Do you have issues? How in the hell do you find this enjoyable?”
Sweat trickles down my forehead as I struggle to get a full breath into my broken lungs. We ran two blocks, not one, and it feels like my whole body is going to collapse. I’m unfit. I’m trim, sure. I’ve always been that way, luckily for me, and in prison, you hardly get overfed, but I’m not fit. I’m not a runner. I’m not an athlete. I don’t do any of that. I never once used the gym at the prison. Not once.
“You’ll learn to like it,” Ethan tells me, barely having broken out in a sweat.
“I think you’re imagining things. I could never possibly like this.”
Ethan shrugs.
We walk around the corner, very slowly because my whole body burns, and stop when we see Max standing outside my apartment building. I haven’t seen Max for eighteen months. Anger doesn’t begin to describe how utterly disappointed I am in him. In my whole family, for that matter. After the first year or two, they stopped visiting. My mother apparently had a mental breakdown, unable to deal with the media frenzy.
I don’t care.
I was just a young girl. I had no one. I was afraid and scared.
She owed it to me to damn well visit.
My father visited only occasionally, and then eventually he moved on with his life. Proving to me how little I meant to him.
Max visited often, but in the last few years, he stopped. He sent letters, saying he was sorry, but he never explained why the hell he left me when he was the only family member I had. He had no right to do that. Family is supposed to stick together. Of course, I didn’t expect them to visit every week, but to just abandon me? That hurt. So much.
“What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?” I say when Max turns and stares at me.
My brother looks more like a man now. Gone are his teenage-boy features. In their place, he has matured. He has filled out. He’s an incredibly handsome guy—he always has been. He’s tall, lean but muscled, and has short messy dark hair and hazel eyes.
“Callie,” he says, “I can’t believe you’re out. Joanne told me where you were staying, I told her I wanted to visit you.”
“Don’t give me that, Max. Don’t you dare give me that. You don’t get to be here.”
I turn to Ethan, who is staring at Max with disappointment in his face. Ethan knows because he saw me the day I realized I was truly alone. Outside of Joanne, none of my family had my back. He found me in my cell, just staring blankly at the wall, completely broken. He helped me back onto my feet. Ethan was there for me.
