Stone.
What kind of name is Stone, anyway?
The thought barrels at me before I can stop its progression. I don’t know what it is about that guy that’s getting under my skin. Half of me thinks it’s his holier than thou attitude—like he’s somehow god’s gift to pretty much everyone. But the traitorous other half of me is dying to know how all that muscle would feel under my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give to run my hands across his chest.
I swear, it’s like I’m bipolar or something.
Denise would tell me to ‘take him for a ride and get it out of my system.’
Cheeky woman.
Also easier said than done.
I might be a free woman now, but it doesn’t negate the fact that in the past twenty years, I’ve only ever slept with one guy. It wasn’t the most passionate sex ever, either. Regardless, not only do I feel incredibly rusty at this point, but emotionally unprepared for a wild one-night stand, no matter how much my body begs me to.
Besides, somehow, I just know there’s regret written all over that man. For all I know, it’s his middle name.
I drum my fingertips against the steering wheel, barely even listening to the GPS as it navigates me back home. Instead, I feel antsy—like I need to get all of this extra energy out of my system. Rolling my shoulders, I try to relieve some of the tension, but it doesn’t help.
My gaze flits to the sparkling lake to my right, then to the joggers running the paved trail beside it. Their movements are so graceful and not a single one looks out of place. Hell, they practically look happy.
I should go for a run.
I snicker at myself. The last time I went for a run, I was nineteen and trying to impress my college boyfriend. Worst mistake of my life. The runs didn’t last. Neither did the relationship.
Surprise, surprise.
And yet, the idea persists, lingering in the back of my mind like a pulsing beacon.
Go for a run. You’ll feel better.
I might not be up for a romp between the sheets, but I could wear myself out in other ways, I suppose. What’s the worst that could happen? I find out I still don’t like runs? Big deal.
Besides, going for a run would allow me to get a better lay of the land…
Good lord, why is everything coming out an innuendo.
Just roll with it.
I pull into my driveway, fully aware that I must be out of my damn mind. First thinking about Stone like he’s a slab of meat—hunky, hunky meat—then this idea of a run. Nothing about me is normal today.
I shake my head and put the Highlander into park. Before I even get my door open, Avery is outside and bounding down the steps.
“What did you get me?” she asks, practically twirling on the sidewalk. She never was one to wait for surprises.
Without responding, I reach into the vehicle, then hand her both of the green drinks.
A bright smile lights up her face. She takes them without asking who the second one is for, eyes them both, then takes a sip from the one with more bubbles on the bottom. She grins again and spins on her heel. “Thanks, Mom.”
I raise my hand to no-one in particular, since she’s long gone. “Welcome,” I mutter under my breath.
Resting back into my seat, I reach for my coffee and take a sip. The entire way home, I’d been so preoccupied with what happened at the coffee shop, that I hadn’t even drank a single drop. Now, I’m regretting that lack of action, because the coffee is lukewarm. Shit.
Still clutching the coffee, I close my eyes and thunk my head back on the head rest.
For a few minutes, I rest there, trying to clear my mind.
I exhale sharply. “Fuck it. I’m gonna go for a run. This morning can’t get much worse. Can it?” I open my eyes, swap the coffee to my left hand, and grab my purse, so I can follow after Avery.
I have no idea if I have workout clothes packed in my suitcase, but if not, I have a t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts with my name on them. With a little luck, I’ll even have a bra in there somewhere, too.
The last thought makes me huff a laugh and I nearly trip up the front steps because of it. I catch myself like an ungraceful rhino and glance over my shoulder. Thankfully, no one is around to witness it.
I roll my eyes, still mortified by the interaction with Stone.
When I get inside, I march my way upstairs like the woman on a mission I am. Both kids are in their bedrooms, sprawled out on the floor with their drinks within reach and their faces buried in their phones. By the looks of it, they’re watching the same Youtube videos. I wonder if they’d be appalled to know that. Smirking to myself, I make my way to my bedroom to hunt for clothes.
After closing the bedroom door, I plant my semi-warm coffee on the window sill and unzip my suitcase. I dig through the entire thing, and the only outfit suitable to run in is a tank top and the sweatpants I’m already wearing. I can’t say running with sweats is ideal, since I can’t put my phone in my pocket without it being more annoying than the kids fighting, but whatever. On the upside, I found a sports bra in there, so all in all, I consider it a win.
I throw on the workout garb and slam the contents of my coffee. As much as I hate cold coffee, I hate wasting it more. That would be sacrilegious.
With my empty cup in hand, I walk out, feeling the mounting pressure—or persistence of this urge to run.
Embrace it. It’s the future you.
I smile to myself. Hell, yes. I could be one of those fit, single moms everyone’s always talking about at school gatherings. Maybe that’s the new identity I need to embrace.
New town, fresh start. Right?
They don’t need to know I’d rather sit on the couch rewatching episodes of Supernatural with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
“Where are you going now?” Avery asks, glancing up at me from the middle of her carpet.
“I’m going for a run,” I say, confidently. No time like the present to start the new me.
Avery stares at me like I just said I plan to leave planet Earth to colonize Mars.
“What are you doing?” Asher asks, popping his head out of his bedroom door. In his left hand is his phone, in the right, his nearly empty green drink.
“She’s going running,” Avery answers, adding in air quotes for effect, as she comes out of her bedroom and joins me on the landing.
The two of them exchange a significant glance, evidently silently questioning whether or not I was body snatched.
“Guys, it’s not that big of a deal. I just don’t like being cooped up in the house without furniture and stuff. I still haven’t heard from the movers and rather than get pissy about that fact, I figured I’d get some exercise and stretch my legs. Besides, I want to see more of the town,” I say, trying to sound like this is a totally normal thing. “You’re more than welcome to come with…”
“No thanks,” Asher says, disappearing before the last word has left his lips. He’s clearly not worried enough about my sanity to keep me company.
“Nope,” Avery parrots, passing me by and taking off down the stairs.
I’m left standing on the landing like a dope. Sighing, I say, “I’ll take that as a no, then?”
I jog down the stairs after Avery. Only, rather than heading toward the kitchen like she did, I head for the front door. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t forget to—”
“Lock the front door. We know,” Avery calls out from the kitchen.
I nod. Only she can’t see the gesture. Then I stare down at my hand.
Damn cup and no garbage.
“Eh, there are garbages along the way,” I mutter, walking out the front door. The June weather is warm, but not so hot that you’d turn right back around rather than run. It would have been that way in California.
I inhale deeply. The scents of cut grass, flowers, and lake fill the air and for whatever reason, it calms me. Like I’m finally home. I’ve never felt like that before. Not in all the years I was married. Hell, not really even before then.
The last time it felt close, was when I was a kid and my parents were still together. That was a long, long time ago.
Shaking off that thought, I make my way to the running trail. I start off slow, working myself up from a brisk walk to a jog. It’s not like I’m a spry chicken, after all. The last thing I need to do is pull something and have to limp my way home.
I think I’ve had enough demoralization for the day, thanks.
It doesn’t take me long to reach the first neighborhood garbage bin along the trail. I chuck my empty paper cup and take it as a sign to finally put a little speed behind my jaunt. As expected, though, my phone is obnoxious in my pocket, so I pull it out and grip it tightly in my left hand.
For the next few minutes, I find my groove. Despite not having run for decades, it feels good to stretch my legs and work my muscles.
That’s it. Go faster.
I pick up speed, racing ahead quicker than I would have thought I could handle at my age. Instead of questioning it, I go with it, focusing on the way my body feels. It’s like it’s been waiting for this.
Before I realize it, I’ve run for a half hour. I have no idea how far from home that puts me, but I do know, I’m going to need to find a restroom soon. That coffee is catching up to me.
Thanks, tiny Mom bladder.
Who’s idea was this anyway? I mean, wow…
Not only do I need to pee, but I can feel the boob sweat building up and droplets making their way down my backside. Fuck me.
After years of being uncomfortable, I’ve decided to let that shit go. Comfort for the win.
Which means next time I get the brilliant idea to run, I’m wearing the right materials that can wick away sweat because this is irritating.
We need to find her.
Startled, I look over my shoulder, expecting to find someone on the phone or running with someone coming up behind me. But I’m the only person within three-block radius.
My speed falters and I slow down.
So, that was weird.
The events from the day before make their way to the forefront of my mind, and I realize I must have been reminding myself about finding the dying man’s wife. What was her name again?
Oh, that’s right… Clementine.
Yes, I do need to find her. I don’t care that Stone said he’d pass the message on to his sister. I feel like I need to do it. Like, it was a soul mission or something. I guess the final wish of a dying man sticks with a person.
Hardening my resolve, I promise myself to do some digging when I get back home. I pick up the pace, planning to only go a few more minutes before turning around. I just wanna find a restroom first and I’m almost positive I can see a park from here.
A few more uncomfortable minutes of boob and back sweat and I’m finally within the vicinity of the park. Thank god, I can see a public restroom in the building up ahead, too. Even though it’s a part of the lakeside park, it’s clearly meant for the dual purpose of relieving those on the trail as well, since a meandering sidewalk veers off to the left.
It’s like they know me.
I chuckle to myself as I maintain my jog.
He’ll pay. I’ll make sure of it.
Wow, I’m all over the place this morning. I shake my head, not quite sure where that thought came from. I mean, I can’t say I’m fond of the ex, but I’d say I got the better end of the divorce, since I got the kids. I mean, could be worse. And now I only have to deal with his passive aggressive texts, not his obnoxious face.
It’s so weird the way your subconscious can bring up thoughts like that when your guard is down.
Quickening my pace, and beelining for the bathroom, I pass a woman sitting on a park bench overlooking the lake. For some reason, I stop running and glance over my shoulder. The woman is eerily familiar and it isn’t until she looks up at me with curious eyes that it clicks into place.
Those green eyes—they’re just like Stone’s.
My heart hammers loudly in my chest as I walk toward her. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a total creeper, but…is your name Clementine?”