Page 43 of Running Risk

CLAYTON: NOW

Sitting on my leather couch, I bend over my knee, tie the laces on my boots, and pull my jeans over each ankle. I place my palms on my knees and push up to stand when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. Yanking it out, I tap the green button.

“What?” I bark.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Avery always has a knack for calling at the absolute worst time.

I growl. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially him. The only reason I answered is because if he burns down my business, I’ll have no one to blame but myself for not answering his damn phone call.

“Since you aren’t coming into work today, I figured you’d want to know that Marge has everything under control. With my help, of course.”

“Fine.” Honestly, I’m not interested in hearing that everything’s on schedule because then he doesn’t need me, and this was a waste of time.

“Okay . . . Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to your alone time. Don’t get any blisters while you’re in the shower.”

He chuckles loudly even when I pull the phone away from my ear and end the call.

Walking toward the front door, I pull my leather jacket off the coat rack, shove my arms in the sleeves, and grab my keys.

Locking the door behind me, I walk to my garage, open it, and stand before my Kawasaki motorcycle.

I haven’t been able to ride in a long time, and since I can’t run, I need another way to clear my head.

Revving the engine and closing the visor on my helmet, I start down the long, winding roads through the mountains.

It’s like muscle memory as I come up on the first turn, as I lean into the curve.

My body hums in unison with the engine as my mind begins to clear.

I’ve loved driving these roads ever since I was honorably discharged from the Marines.

It was a hard adjustment at first, but these rides helped me. And I’m hoping they will help me now.

I haven’t slept well in days, ever since Rylee left my house yelling.

I never expected sex to lead to her pulling away from me, but I guess I should have.

I don’t think she will ever be able to forgive me, no matter how hard I show her that I’m not going anywhere.

I was in high school when I made those decisions, and while I don’t regret my choice, I regret keeping the decision from her.

I know leaving was what I needed, and it made me grow up and deal with my anxiety.

The structure the military gave me was therapy in more ways than one.

The wind whistles through the holes of my helmet, as the slight nip in the night air bites on my knuckles grasping the handlebars.

I’m alone on a winding road where there’s nothing to bother me but my thoughts.

I make a turn, leading to the top of the mountain where there’s an overlook point.

It’s the place Rylee and I liked to go when we were younger and didn’t have nearly as many responsibilities.

Cutting the engine, I take my helmet off and swing my leg off the bike, laying the helmet on the seat.

Reaching my hands into the sky, I stretch my neck from side to side, easing the ache in my body from riding so long.

I walk toward the viewpoint, go around a tree, and pause, finding Rylee sitting on the bench with tears streaming down her face.

She’s wearing an oversized red USC sweatshirt with black leggings.

Her legs are pulled into her chest with her heels on the edge of the bench.

Her hair is pulled into her usual messy bun, but it’s slightly messier than normal with several strands of hair escaping the tie.

And she looks absolutely as breathtaking as usual.

My lips press together as my body wants to lunge toward her, but I know I can’t. “Ry,” I breathe.

She startles and wipes away the wet streaks on her cheeks. “What’re you doing here?” She sniffles, not making eye contact.

“Came to think,” I say, not looking away from her. I slowly walk toward her and sit a few inches away. “Will you talk to me?” I need to know fully what’s going on in her head, and I won’t find that out by her running away or me avoiding the hard conversations.

“I can’t.” She shakes her head, making her shoulders turn inward.

I angle my body to face her and cup her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft under my touch, and I want to run the pad of my thumb under her eye. “I’m here.”

Her eyes flick to mine, and fresh tears well up, ready to spill over. “For how long?” She pulls away, but I grab her shoulders to keep her sitting.

“We aren’t going anywhere until we talk.” It’s like a light switch goes off inside of her because her eyes are no longer about to spill tears, they’re burning holes into my body.

Rylee shakes my hands off her as she jumps to stand. “You’re not going to tell me what to do, Clayton Daniels.”

I stand up, and my hands ball into fists.

“Oh, that much is clear.” I struggle to keep my voice down.

She can be irritating at times, and right now, I have the unbelievable urge to shake her senselessly or just take her right here on this bench.

I pace in a straight line toward the viewpoint and back to the bench.

We need to talk through this, or we’ll both be miserable and never heal.

“You have no right to be upset with me.”

I whirl around to face her. Her arms are crossed over like she’s protecting herself from me, and her face pinches as she glares. “Really? I have no reason at all?”

“No!” she yells, leaning in for dramatic effect.

“You’re one of the most infuriating women I’ve ever met.

” I stalk less than an inch away from her, staring her down while my body fights the urge to wrap my arms around her and breathe in her scent.

I want to hash this out and get on some common ground together, but all she wants to do is fight and not let go of the past.

“At least I’m not a liar,” she seethes.

My heartbeat picks up, thumping loudly in my ears as the heat creeps up my neck.

My fingers rake through my hair, and I tug at the roots.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?

” I throw my arms out wide. “I was eighteen, and my dad fucked over his family. All of my life plans were headed in the direction to follow in his footsteps.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Don’t you get it? I couldn’t do that.”

“Of course I get it,” she yells. “I would have gotten it then too, if you had talked to me.” Her voice drips with attitude like she’s talking to the younger version of me.

“And I will regret that for the rest of my life, but?—”

“There is no but, Clay.” She points a finger at my face.

I grab her finger, pull her into my chest, and tilt my head to meet her gaze.

“There is,” I say, and she tries to push me away as she rolls her eyes, but I hold firm.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you.

You had all these plans, and I wanted nothing more than to make all your dreams come true.

I couldn’t work up the nerve to tell you. You mean everything to me, Ry.”

Her lips part slightly, and a single tear trails down her cheek. I wipe it away with my thumb. “The thing is, we were friends, and right now, I have no reason to think we could ever be good as more. And when it comes down to it, I don’t trust you.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe out. I want her, but more than anything, I want her to trust me. But what can I do if she just can’t?

She nods, and I release her hand, allowing her to walk away. And I can’t do anything but watch her go. It’s hard, but I know I can’t force her to forgive me. I can’t make her see my side. All I can do is try.