My fists are clenched around a wheel that fights back as I crack up. “There we were, running the obstacle course despite the fact that they cancelled training, just to show we could!”
“Fearing that the worst was yet to come!”
“You and I drenched, just a fucking mess, sticking with it, laughing our asses off. And where do we see Rodrigo? Up that tree! Shaking like a kid! I nearly peed myself.”
“Nobody would’ve known if you had!”
CHAPTER 7
SAME MORNING
DIANA
Y anking on sneakers, I give myself a motivational speech with zero enthusiasm, “I promised myself I would jog every morning, so I am jogging every morning.”
Somehow it still works.
I feel more conviction.
So I keep going.
“It doesn’t matter that I’m tired. It doesn’t matter that I’m tired. It doesn’t matter that I’m tired. It doesn’t matter that my bed is warm and cozy and wants me in it.” Twisting black shoelaces into a bow, I pause, take a determined breath. “If I stay in bed I’ll have to start my thirty-day commitment over from the beginning! Again.”
My roommate’s bedroom door opens and she walks into the hall, stylish in a white suit and matching heels. “What are you doing?”
Bouncing to a standing position, I stomp my sneakers into place. “Preparing to run an Ironman, Lita, what does it look like I’m doing?”
Crossing her arms with an amused eyebrow lift, she reminds me, “An Ironman isn’t just a run.”
“Ya gotta start somewhere.” I head for the door. “I’ve got a date with Eddie tonight.”
She cocks her head, newly extended eyelashes making her expression cartoonishly surprised. “You’re kidding. Since when?”
“Someone suggested I give him another shot.”
“Who suggested that?”
“One of the women at Silver Linings.”
Lita throws up her hand. “So?! Did she know Eddie?”
Laughing under my breath I admit, “No, but why are you so appalled? He wasn’t a bad guy.”
“He wasn’t bad. He was boring. Which is a waste of your time.”
Getting the blood pumping in my legs by stretching, I counter, “Maybe he was boring because I wasn’t ready.”
“If you think he’s suddenly more interesting now than he was then, fine. Give it a shot. But people don’t change.”
I call after her as she heads to the bathroom. “Yes, they do. That’s a myth we need to stop perpetuating.”
“It’s not!”
“Yeah, it really is. Look at me. Was I jogging last year?”
She suspiciously asks, “Are you really training for an ironman?”
“Of course not!” I snatch my keys from the accent table. “It’s my day off. Getting out there when I could be in bed is a huge win. And I’ve been doing this almost every morning, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I hadn’t.” Right before I shut our door, Lita shouts, “I’m proud of you, Diana!”
A small smile tugs at the cherub-shaped lips I inherited from my mother, proud of myself, too.
We are lucky enough to share one half of a duplex, a craftsman-style home that was converted years ago. Somehow we never see our neighbors so it feels like we have a real house all our own. Even though we rent. Still, it’s a great setup.
And so pretty!
Dogwood trees line our street in Virginia Highlands, what I believe to be the best neighborhood. It’s the two Qs I told her were mandatory during our search for a home — quaint and quiet.
As I jog down creaky wooden steps, my gaze cuts up toward a not uncommon sight — storm clouds. But this is Georgia. The sky could be clear blue when you walk into a store and by the time you get out, everything’s wet except you.
The old me, circa two weeks ago, would’ve spun back around, used puffy charcoal warnings as an excuse to get snuggly with my pillow for just one more hour. Or two, since it’s my day off. Maybe three hours if I were decadently lazy.
But not this morning.
Nope!
I mutter a supportive, “I made it outside, and I am not turning around now! No no no no no.”
Rubber makes a you-can-do-it slap as I jump off the last step and break into a steady run, uneven pavement an obstacle course from tree roots pushing years of determination up.
“Morning!” I call up to a man who’s walking an excited corgi on a red leash.
“Good morning,” he smiles, his beard pointing toward the sky. “Storm’s coming.”
I ignore the urge to glance up, but not the urge to stop and pet his dog. I’m a sucker for animals. This is not me procrastinating. It’s not!
Noticing a pink collar glittering with rhinestones, I ask him, “What’s her name?”
“Scooter,” he chuckles apologetically. “We thought it was a boy.”
“Couldn’t you tell?”
“The listing said she was a boy. Typo.” His eyes rest on her as he shrugs. “My wife was set on the name.”
“It’s cute just like her.” Rubbing soft ears as golden as yesterday’s sun, I murmur, “You’re such a pretty girl, aren’t you? Yes you are.” Leaving behind this face isn’t easy, but you can do it, Diana! I resolve to continue my mission, and salute as I leave. “Have a great day.”
He calls to my back, “Raindrops now. Looks like this one might get bad.”
I throw my arm up in a wave that I don’t look back for.
CHAPTER 8
WYATT
Washington leans to peer out the windshield. “This is bad. Try the main park. I’ll call it in that we got this.”
“You worried someone would scope our beat?”
He shrugs, “Doesn’t hurt to let Chief know we’re on it.”
“Jeezus, we’re getting paranoid.”
I turn right into the entrance to Piedmont Park that’s reserved for county cars. Our thoughts are on the homeless. Some might be here, didn’t know what was coming for them. We have to search for them.
Washington confidently tells Dispatch our location and reassures them, “We were made for this.”
Voice scratchy from a bad signal, Dispatch
