Page 16 of Running Risk

CLAYTON: NOW

Driving up the road, I turn into my mom’s driveway toward my childhood home. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I come anytime she needs something fixed. She likes to come to my house every chance she gets, bringing food and groceries as if I don’t know how to cook or shop.

I lightly knock on the front door before opening it, knowing it would be unlocked. “Mom, I’m here.”

“In the kitchen.”

She’s in the one place I always check first when looking for her—her favorite room in the house.

She always said she likes doing dishes when she’s stressed and loves to cook when she’s happy.

I walk in and am immediately engulfed in the smell of bacon.

She leans over, pulls out a fresh loaf of bread, and places it on the stove next to the sizzling bacon and eggs.

She turns, a smile already lighting up her face. “Hungry?” She opens her arms and wraps them around me, and I feel like a little boy again, safe in his mom’s arms.

“Always.”

“Help me, and we can dig in before you need to leave for work.” She grabs a hot pad and picks up the loaf of bread before flipping it onto a cutting board. “Get the butter.”

I gather plates, utensils, and all the food to the table as she gets our drinks. We eat with few words exchanged. There’s such a familiarity being here and eating breakfast with her. She always made sure I had fresh food before school because she knew I didn’t eat much during lunch.

“How’s the business?” she asks, taking another bite of eggs.

I wipe my mouth on my napkin. “Uh. I’m going to do something new to bring in more business, but—” I pause, not sure how to explain everything. I sigh. “I’m hiring a designer.”

She reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “That’s great. Why does it feel like you aren’t sure?”

“Well, I think it will help, but the applicants weren’t the greatest. I thought of someone else who would be a better fit. She would only be temporary, though.” I bite through the soft, buttery sourdough, chewing slowly so I can figure out how to phrase the next part.

“Oh, I’m sure whoever you get will be great.”

I nod, staying quiet, and push my food around my plate.

She stops eating and faces me. Her eyes scan me, and she nods slowly. “It’s Rylee, isn’t it?”

I nod again, swallowing my food and feeling like it's stuck in the back of my throat.

“I see,” she says quietly. “I’m surprised you thought of her.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen her several times within the past week.

” My gaze lowers to my plate, and the urge to eat disappears.

I don’t know how Rylee and I will work together.

I’d love to move past our history, but each time I look into her eyes, it feels like it’s fresh on her mind. I’m not sure she can move past it.

“Is she going to?”

I grab the back of my neck, stretching the ache that’s forming there, before I nod and face her .

Her eyebrows raise, and I know she’s as shocked as I am. “Wow. When does this start?”

Sighing, I say, “Today.”

An hour later, my fingers thrum on my desk as my eyes scan the different bodies outside my windows.

I keep my office in a trailer that I move to each job site, so I have easy access to make sure the work’s getting done or to be available if I need to pitch in.

But instead of working through the mounds of paperwork on my desk, my focus is only on finding her.

Today is her first day. I can’t believe I convinced Rylee to help me, the one person she loathes.

When I think about it more, I know she’s doing this for her dad.

I know she didn’t want to take over the business, but that doesn’t mean she wants to see it go up in smoke.

I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.

My door opens, and Avery saunters inside with a gleam in his eyes. “Hey there, boss.” He sits down in the chair across from my desk.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What?”

A smirk plays across his lips. “Well, aren’t you chipper this morning?”

I don’t respond. I pretend to shuffle through a couple of papers, no idea what’s written on them. I need to start on the new accounts I’m pitching ideas for in a few weeks, but that only brings thoughts of Rylee to my mind. I look out the window again.

“So I guess she’s actually coming in today,” Avery says, making my eyes scan again, thinking that I missed her.

“Do you see her?”

He laughs, and my gaze cuts to him. “No. You look nervous as hell.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my coffee. I don’t need Rylee hating me more than she does because she has to work with me, and I have to make sure this business succeeds. I can’t imagine letting Mr. Thompson down. After everything he’s done for my family, I could never fail him.

“Will I need to come in and make sure you two are being friendly and not burning the place down?” He rubs his hands together like he can’t wait to grab a bag of popcorn to watch instead of helping to de-escalate that scenario.

I shake my head. I know it’s going to be hard to work with her without falling back into that easy friendship we had for under a decade, but neither of us are those people anymore.

I’m not the kid she used to know. Our senior year of high school is what made me give up on the dreams that Rylee and I had been planning for.

It’s always been hard for me to let people in, and I couldn’t open up to her like she deserved back then.

“This is going to be fun.” Avery links his hands behind his head and leans back in the chair.

“What is?” Rylee says from the door, startling my friend. He jerks forward, barely stabilizing his chair. She cups her hand across her mouth and chuckles. “Hey, Avery. Good to see you again.”

Rylee stands in the open doorway, her dark brown hair cascading down her back.

She’s wearing a gray blouse and mid-thigh jean shorts, showing a bandage around her knee.

It looks like she’s trying to be professional with her shirt, but can’t wear pants because of her injury.

Good thing I don’t care about what my workers wear as long as it’s practical.

I care more about making sure everyone stays hydrated.

But damn if she doesn’t look good. I’ve always liked how she only wears enough makeup to accentuate her beauty.

Avery gets up and walks to her with a bright smile stretched across his face. “Ry”—he stretches out his arms and hugs her. “It’s good to see you. How’s that friend of yours?” He wiggles his eyebrows when he lets go of her .

She grins. “Trish is good. A little out of your league, though, I’m afraid.”

His hand grabs at his heart like she physically hurt him. “Ouch.” He smiles, looks at me, then claps his hands. “Alright, I’ll let you two”—he points his finger back and forth between us—“get to work. He’ll never get a word in if I’m in here.” He winks at me.

Standing, I cross my arms over my chest. Rylee chuckles and uses her crutches to move out of the way. He leaves, and I pull out a chair for her at the small desk I got for her in the corner of the room. I didn’t want her to have to share mine.

“Here.” I motion to the desk. “This will be where you can work.” She looks from me to my desk, then to her desk. I clear my throat. “Is it okay?” She nods slowly. Her gaze is glued to her new desk. She opens her mouth before snapping it shut. “Just spit it out,” I say, making her focus whip to me.

Her eyebrows furrow before finally saying, “I didn’t realize we would be working so”—she pauses, looking between the desks again—“close.”

“Well, there’s not another office, so unless you want to set up shop outside wearing a hard hat, this is all I have.” I motion around the room. It’s going to take effort not to stare at her side profile all day while we work.

She gives me a timid smile and steps forward, sitting down and placing her crutches against the wall in the corner. “It’s fine.”

I nod and go back to my desk, get a folder of the first prospective client that I need help with, and drag my chair over to sit next to her.

“So for this project, the clients want a full remodel of both bathrooms and the flooring throughout the house.” I hand over the file including the pictures of the house as it currently is, along with the file I started that shows the design I plan to pitch and what I want her help with.

She eyes each photo thoroughly before looking at my documents, and her face pinches in what can only be considered disgust before closing the folder. “No.”

My eyebrows have to nearly hit my hairline in surprise. “No? What do you mean ‘no”?”

“You hired me for my design input, not for me to follow your lead.” She motions toward the discarded file. “And your designs are not what I would pitch to the customer based on their requests written in there.”

“I spent a lot of time on that.” I motion toward her desk.

She nods. “I understand, but I’m not using any of it.”

I exhale and look to the ceiling. I’m not sure what I think I will find other than not the face of the woman who I’m trying not to be frustrated with, but it doesn’t help as my heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears.

“This is how I work. I come up with the ideas, and afterward, I make mood boards that show the ideas. I’ll make an entire slideshow presentation for the clients, but this is what I know how to do.” Rylee’s voice raises. She taps her pencil on her desk in frustration.

I rub my hands over my face. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I guess I thought she would come in and at least listen to my ideas.

“So you don’t want my input at all?” I narrow my eyes.

“No.” She bites out. Her head tilts as she looks at me as if this shouldn’t be a surprise, but this is my business.

I should get a say. She sighs. “How about you go for a run and clear your head? I’ll work on showing you exactly the ideas I have.

If you still don’t like them, then we can figure something else out.

But I don’t want to design a space I don’t like.

You want my help, and this is what I offer.

” She spreads her arms out, motioning to her iPad and computer.

“I’m not designing a space for you. It’ll be for the client. ”

Fuck, I’d love to go for a run, but I haven’t been able to do that in over three years.

The screws in my knee prevent that from happening.

I breathe in for four seconds, hold it for four seconds, and release it for four seconds.

I continue to do this three more times. Keeping my eyes closed, my thoughts calm, just like I always do.

I almost forgot Rylee’s still in the room.

Ever since my accident, my therapist has helped me come up with other coping mechanisms to help me clear my head since running is no longer an option.

“What are you doing?” Rylee interrupts my fourth exhale.

Keeping my eyes closed, I say, “Breathing.”

She chuckles, and I open my eyes to find her facing me like she’s been watching me this entire time. “No shit.”

My lips flatten into a straight line, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you go for a run?” Her voice softens like she isn’t sure if this is a safe topic.

I rub the back of my neck before saying, “I had an accident.”

She waits for me to continue, but when I don’t and turn my focus back to my papers, she groans. “What kind of accident? I didn’t hear about one.”

My heart sinks as concern flashes in her eyes.

I don’t like talking about what happened.

Her parents know what happened, and it wouldn’t be hard for her to find out the details through someone else.

I take a breath and fold my hands into my lap.

“I was shot. They were able to save me, but when the bullet hit me, I fell off a balcony. I had to get a few screws put into my knee, and I haven’t been able to run without pain since.

I can walk fine for the most part, but I’ve found that running isn’t an option anymore. ”

Her jaw falls open, and she gasps, covering her mouth. Her eyes drop to my knee, then scan my body as if she could tell where I got shot. “You got shot?” she yells. “What the hell happened? ”

I shake my head, not wanting to talk about this, but when I go to change the subject, her eyes turn sad.

“You can’t run?” she rasps out, and I swear I can see tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

After all those years watching me run and eventually joining me, she remembers what it did for me.

Day after day, she sat on the bench at school while I ran.

Each stride made thinking easier, made breathing easier.

It’s been years since the accident and hours upon hours of therapy.

I worked through my emotions, losing something so important to me and my health.

Rylee, however, hasn’t had that time. The strong emotions of devastation, turning into anger, flash across her face before finally landing on pity.

It’s the one emotion I can’t stand to see when people look at me.

“It’s fine. Let’s get back to work.” I stand and pick up papers to mindlessly put them in a different spot, just so I can try to remove myself from this conversation.

“But—”

I level a hard look at her, and she stops mid-sentence. “We have a deadline, and honestly, I don’t want to talk about this.”

Her sad eyes lower before slowly nodding as she forces herself to get back to work.

I take a deep breath of relief before forcing myself to do the same.

I’ve learned to cope with not being able to run, but having to tell Rylee isn’t something I thought would be this hard to do.

Running was such a huge part of our relationship, and it’s almost like now that she knows, another piece of our past has died.

We’ll never be able to get that part back, and I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to come to terms with that.

I glance at her and watch her swipe under her eyes, and it seems I’m not the only one struggling with this new reality.