Page 61 of Sing For Me

But by the time my commitments are through, I’m jittery as hell, still mulling over Griffin’s suggestion. I need to burn off steam. Or at least distract myself. I could call Seamus, see if he’s up for the batting cages, but I’m not in the mood to chat. In fact, my mood is growing fouler with every minute that passes and my phone sits there text-free.

I decide to go for a run. Never mind my ass is already whooped from those toddlers this morning.

It works, too, at least at first. It’s a ten-minute run at full speed down the road from the staff apartments to the water. Most of that is alongside our golf course, which is dotted with carts and golfers taking advantage of the beautiful crisp fall morning before the snow comes next month and everyone switches to cross-country skiing and snowshoeing.

Maybe I need to pick up more hobbies. Maybe that would fill the goddamned void in my chest.

But not even my runaway brain can compete against the grueling pace I’m keeping, so I’m actually feeling close to clear-headed by the time I hit the gravel path that runs along the Quince. I inhale the crisp air, my heart thudding in my chest as I round onto the gravel of the waterfront path, sweating like a bastard by the time I hit the first curve.

I’m looking out over the smooth flow of the Quince—the low stretch of rock along the bank, and the lift and twirl of sparrows in the bare-limbed trees along the water, so I don’t see the other person running toward me—not until we smash into each other.

The only thing letting me know it’s a woman is their size and the cry they make as their shoulder jabs painfully into my solar plexus. Somehow, we manage not to fall over, mostly because I awkwardly grip their shoulders to keep them from tumbling backward.

Then I realize the person I’m holding on to is my ex-wife.

All the foul mood in my brain I was running from comes flooding back, hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

I let go of her like she’s a hot potato.

“Thank you,” she says, propping her hands on her hips, breathing hard. Her chest lifts and falls with each one in a way that probably would have driven me wild years ago.

Maybe even weeks ago.

“For what?” I ask, incredulous. I’m breathing hard too, and I swipe my forearm over my forehead to keep sweat from dripping into my eyes. “I nearly tossed you into the Quince.”

“No, you kept me from falling over. But maybe you would have liked that.”

It takes me a minute to understand that she’s making a self-deprecating joke. The Kelly I knew doesn’t make those.

The Kelly I knew was a different person than the one she is now. Married to someone else.

My stomach churns like I’ve swallowed glass. How does she still have this effect on me? “I don’t want to throw you in the Quince, Kelly.”

“I’d understand if you did. I haven’t been at my best since I’ve been here.”

Is she being nice? I take her in as if for the first time. She’s wearing her sleek black hair swept up in a high ponytail, with a black headband covering the tips of her ears. She looks beautiful, but for the first time in a long time, I think this only objectively. She doesn’t have the wavy, slightly wild when undone dirty blonde hair I think about. Her porcelain skin is devoid of freckles; her ice blue eyes have none of that softness that warms up my chest.

Fuck, Reese, why the hell won’t you text me back?

I realize I haven’t said anything, so I run the back of my hand over my upper lip before placing my thumb and forefinger on the edge of my hip.

“Kelly, I didn’t know all this was going to happen when I ran into you guys back at ho—” I look away. I was going to call the place we lived together home, even though it doesn’t feel that way at all anymore. It’s just because I’m talking to her. I think. “At the storage locker. I wasn’t angling for anything.”

“I know,” she says softly. “It’s Neil. He gets ahead of himself.”

I nod. “I don’t hate him, unfortunately.”

She huffs a little laughter. “Yeah. Everyone loves Neil.”

That’s a weird response, I think, especially because of the way she’s gone kind of stiff. But I don’t have time to think about it because she says, “Are you and Reese coming to the bar tonight?”

My jaw pulses. I should say no. We’ve got plans. Together. But I don’t know that we do. “Undecided,” I say, noncommittally.

“Eli…” Kelly takes a step toward me, and I’m surprised my first instinct is to take a step back. I don’t, because that would be weird. But I still flinch when Kelly lays her hand on my arm. It’s cool on my bare skin and makes me want badly to shrug away. “I’m sorry.”

I do pull my arm away then, as much from surprise as anything. But I press my elbow against my chest, making like I’m stretching. “What for, Kelly?” I’m already too tired to play any games with her.

“For being a bitch since I’ve been here.”

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