Page 11 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Like I said, washed up,” I call over my shoulder. I can’t resist taunting him a little. Maybe if I bruise his ego enough, he’ll realize he’s not right about everything and listen to me when I help him.
He doesn’t say anything in return. He stays a step behind me, much too close for comfort, until we start to close in on hishouse. Then he speeds up, back to being shoulder-to-shoulder with me and taking the side closest to the road once more. I crank up my speed, forcing my lungs and legs to work overtime and get me back in the lead. Brock starts to pass me in spite of that. He looks as though it’s easy. Has he been holding back this whole time?
There’s only one way to win now, and it’s not going to be playing fair. I make sure no cars are coming before I knock my shoulder into him. He stumbles to the side a little, laughing.
“Really? So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks through labored breaths as I pass him again.
My car gleams like a shining beacon beneath the rising sun. Just a few more steps and–Brock bumps into me, launching me into the grass of his front yard. I lose my footing and hit the ground. It’s not a hard fall. My pride is hurt more than anything else.
I watch as Brock passes the ‘finish line’ with raised arms.
He turns around to face me with a smile. I lean back on the grass to catch my breath as he jogs over.
“You all right, Duke?” He drops down to the ground beside me.
“Just–peachy,” I say in between deep breaths.
“So what were you saying earlier about me being washed up?” he teases as he lays down next to me on the grass. His arm presses against mine.
“Congrats, you cheated and beat an average runner. I’m sure the entire hockey world is dying for you to come out of retirement.”
He laughs. My lips twitch at the sound.
“I can’t believe you’re calling me a cheater when you tried to push me into the road. What if I had gotten hit by a car?”
“A girl can dream,” I mumble.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a villainess?”
I smile. “No, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “You would.”
We fall into silence. Streaks of peach, pink, and blue paint the sky above us. Birdsong floats on the breeze like music notes. My breathing slows. That feeling of newness and endless possibilities rises in my chest. This may not have been my normal routine, but it was fun. And if it helped Brock loosen up a little, then it was worth it.
I let my head loll toward him. His gaze is set on the sky, but his brow is furrowed instead of relaxed.
I’m about to ask him what he’s thinking when he says, “I should go get ready for work.”
My hopeful morning sours. So much for thinking this helped. He can’t go five seconds without thinking about work.
“Yeah, me too,” I say in a tight voice, then push myself to my feet. “See you later.”
I walk to my car feeling more defeated than when I watched him beat me.
I sigh. This is going to be a long journey.
Chapter six
Brock Jones
I’ve had three days of peace. That is, if peace can be defined as no contact with Ariel. Our sunrise run was the last time I saw or heard from her. It’s been suspiciously quiet since then, and with each passing day, I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to get a call from Sutton saying Ariel told her everything.
With the way Ariel stormed off the other day, it wouldn’t surprise me if she gave up. The thought adds a new kind of ache to my chest. One I can’t afford. I already feel battered enough. Each time a bruise heals, I get hit by something else. Whether it’s a client crisis or family worries or a mishap because I’m juggling too many balls and they’re starting to drop. There’s always something. Like right now.
“Marie, can you book me a flight to Boston?” I ask over the intercom that connects our desk phones.
“What day would you like to fly out and when do you want to return?” She somehow manages to sound no-nonsense andyet still kind. It’s one of the reasons I hired her. I like doing everything myself, but when it came time to hire my first employee, I knew I needed someone who could handle the heat while remaining calm and collected. Marie is the epitome of that.
