Chapter 22

END OF OCTOBER

Finally done with fire season, and I’ve already gotten a decent start on the next room that needs renovation in the house. Even after a full day of manual labor and being covered in sawdust, I’m still feeling restless, so I do what I always do during those times. Run.

Brown leaves crunch underfoot as the frigid air burns my lungs. I needed this. Swinging a hammer is great for alleviating aggression, but running quiets my thoughts; it brings me peace and soothes my soul.

Or at least it does until I see her.

My pounding feet slow to a stop—no fucking way—the woman jogging toward me is the one and only Scottie Timmons. How does this keep happening? This woman is driving me insane.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the night we met, and after getting burned by her, I’ve tried doing anything to distract myself. It’s an impossible task when we can’t stop running into each other—last time, it was literal. Then she had the audacity to snap at me like I was in the wrong. I was too dumbfounded to even respond.

Our arrangement was casual. It was only supposed to be fun! So why the fuck can’t I get over her?

I’ve switched the time of day I go running to keep us from crossing paths, but apparently, she had the same idea, because here we are. When recognition hits her, she stops. We regard each other with bitterness, our feet firmly planted and time standing still. How the hell can she look at me like I hurt her. I’ve been up front since the beginning, she’s the one who lied.

Eventually, she turns around and jogs back in the direction she came.

I hold my arms out wide. “Can’t you run in a different neighborhood?” I shout.

Please do me that one fucking kindness.

She holds up her middle finger and continues jogging. Cute.