Chapter 20

My feet hit the pavement in a steady rhythm as I jog down Spencer Avenue. When I’m not at work, I jog. When I’m not jogging, I sleep. You need friends. I ignore the inner criticism. I can feel myself retreating, but I don’t know how to switch up my routine. It’s easier this way. I tell myself this is all temporary, but without plans to make any real change in my habits, it’s all bullshit.

The entire time I was with Jonathan, I felt less than. When there’s an attraction between two people, you can see it in their eyes. I saw it in other couples. I saw it in Callahan; he looked at me in ways Jonathan never did. Back when it was a constant reminder that I was never enough, even when it wasn’t his fault. After enough times of being gazed at with eyes longing for something else, it breaks a person. And that’s exactly what I am, broken.

As I pass by the decorated autumnal porches and neatly raked piles of leaves, this put-together neighborhood is such a juxtaposition to my life. Yet I want to belong so desperately, and jogging down the sidewalk lets me pretend I’m a part of their charming world in Sky Ridge, even if it’s for the brief moment it takes me to pass through.

The house I always look for—number 218, is one of the few homes left undecorated for the season, which gives me a blank slate to imagine what I’d do if I lived there. I would have pumpkins with carved faces on the porch steps and tie corn stalks around the painted posts. I’d add those fake cobwebs that the neighboring houses have. Halloween wasn’t something we could celebrate, but if I lived at 218, I’d have skeletons and ghosts in every window, and the biggest bowl of candy for trick-or-treaters.

A car pulls up front, and two laughing kids barrel out of the back seat and run into the front yard. I smile as the presumed father jumps out of the driver’s seat, chasing them. The mother exits the passenger side just as the dad catches the young daughter, who squeals when he tickles her belly. It’s so delightfully normal. I knew a happy family must live there, and it fills my heart to see my hunch confirmed.

218 Spencer always has a way of cheering me up.

I’m distracted by the antics of the lively family across the street when I approach the intersection and turn right. My joy is short-lived when I almost plow head-on with another runner.

I put my hands up defensively and stumble over my feet, attempting to get out of the way. The man grips my biceps and steadies me. I suck in a breath, ready to apologize when I glance up to see Callahan glaring back at me.

I rip my arms from his grasp. “Stay away from me,” I snap. So much for that apology. The words are the first thing that came to mind, and I suspect they came about not literally but as more of a generalized statement. I might even be projecting, but you won’t hear me admitting that to him. The near collision was one hundred percent my fault, but I can’t bring myself to say sorry. I can hardly stand to look him in the eye again. Instead, I sidestep and literally run away without another word. Like a coward.