Page 5 of Find Me
I chewed on my bottom lip nervously as the driver of the car got out and helped Logan load his bags into the trunk. This was it. I was going to be on my own for who knew how long. Logan hadn’t left my side since I’d woken up in the hospital a little over a year ago. He’d helped me heal, stood with me through my pain, and held my hand after I’d had nightmares. He’d helped me become stronger, a fighter, a survivor. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, but my eyes were beginning to burn.
Once his last bag was loaded, he turned to face me. His shoulders slumped. “Shi.” He sighed and pulled me into his arms for a hug. “I’m going to catch him.”
My tears fell and my body shook with silent sobs. What if he did find him and Mr. X killed him? What if Mr. X found me and Logan wasn’t here?
I squeezed my arms tightly around Logan’s back, trying to absorb his strength because no matter how much I wanted him to stay, he had to go.
His hand stroked my hair. “You are to check in by text two times a day on the burner phone. Never try to reach me on your regular phone. It’s too easy to track the signal back to here. Make sure you find a range to practice your shooting and keep practicing your escape drills in the house. You can do this, Shi. You are the strongest person I know.”
I took in a deep, shaky breath before stepping back. With the sleeves of my shirt, I wiped away the tear tracks and nodded. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
“I’ll try calling you Monday night after you’re out of school.”
I gave him a forced parting smile, then watched him climb into the car and be driven away. After he was long gone, I turned to look back at my house and tried to remind myself that this was the plan. This was where I needed to be. I had my goals to achieve and my new life to start. Everything was going to be okay.I could do this.
Feeling a little more determined, I went back inside. It was just after seven in the morning and I had the whole day to do…absolutely nothing. For my sanity, I had to keep busy. Silence and boredom were a recipe for flashbacks and panic attacks. Speaking of recipes, I guessed I could bake something. I’d used to love baking. Maybe I could run by the store, but after I went to the gym first. It was the perfect plan to stay busy.
* * *
Desert Stone Fitness was a highly reviewed gym in town. It had all the bells and whistles. An indoor pool and an indoor track on the second floor. It even had a boxing ring smack dab in the center of the large room with all the workout equipment surrounding it. It also provided many classes such as yoga, spin, self-defense, karate, boxing, judo, jiu-jitsu, Pilates, and Zumba. The gym literally had everything. And because of that, it was crazy busy.
With my gym bag hanging off my shoulder, I made my way to the women’s locker room to lock up my stuff. I’d chosen to wear long purple athletic leggings and a matching racerback top covered by a black, slim fit, zip-up athletic jacket with thumb holes. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, put my earbuds in, grabbed my water bottle and phone, then headed out. There was a designated area for stretching on the first floor by the boxing ring. I got stretched and warmed up there first, then went upstairs to the track. It was a mile-long oval track that circled and overlooked the gym below.
I set my water bottle in one of the cubbies for personal items on the wall next to the stairs, selected my running playlist on my phone, and picked a lane on the track.
I’d started running four months ago, slowly building up my endurance. I had read somewhere once that exercise in general was therapeutic for the mind. It either gave your mind a break from the stress or allowed you time to really work through it. The former was true for me most of the time.
Running allowed me to free myself of the pain my memories caused. Nothing else existed as I pushed forward, my muscles burning, lungs expanding, endorphins soaring. If I were to have an addiction, it would be running, and it was one I was guilty of pushing past my limits with. Because some days were worse than others and an hour or two of freedom just wasn’t enough.
I ran for three hours before I cooled down by walking the last quarter mile back to my water bottle. My workout clothes were drenched with sweat and there was nothing more I wanted than to take my jacket off. I was seriously considering shedding it for a minute. Then I looked around at all the people and my insecurities won. I settled for just unzipping it.
* * *
After the gym, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up ingredients. I might have gone a little overboard with how much I bought. But I convinced myself that it was okay. I did have the whole weekend of nothing to do.
As soon as I got home, I put my perishable ingredients away and took a long shower. I decided to put on a pair of jean shorts. I had no plans of leaving the house for the rest of the day. I chose to pair it with a black tank, then made my way to the kitchen, where I spent a good chunk of the afternoon.
My kitchen turned into a war zone, or at least it looked like a flour bomb had gone off. Patches of flour and sugar were scattered on the counters. Some had even sprinkled on the tile floor. Mixing bowls, whisks, measuring cups, cookie sheets, and pans filled my sink. Every surface of my kitchen was filled with cooling baked goodies. I’d made two dozen cookies, a pan of gooey brownies, a dozen blueberry muffins, lemon bars, and key lime bars. It looked like I was ready to have a bake sale.
What had I been thinking?
I hadn’t. That was the point.With a heavy sigh, I started cleaning up.
I was washing the last dirty dish when my doorbell rang. My heart immediately started racing with fear. I quickly dried my hands with a dish towel as I exited the kitchen into the living room. Barefoot, I padded my way to the front door and peered through the peephole to find Colt, my neighbor, standing outside.
“One second!” I shouted and quickly grabbed a zip-up hoodie from the pile of laundry I’d placed on the couch. I had planned on folding it after dinner tonight while I settled down to watch TV.
Once my hoodie was on, I looked down at my ankles and cringed. I didn’t have time to cover them up with pants. Praying that he wouldn’t notice, I unlocked my front door. “Hey,” I greeted him with a smile and saw that he was holding a stack of mail.
“Hi.” He smiled back. I watched as his smile grew the longer he stared at me. “Were you baking?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How did you know?”
He chuckled. “You have flour on your face.”
Heat scorched my cheeks. Using my sleeve, I wiped at my face. “Did I get it?”
He shook his head, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh at me, which made me flush even more. “Your forehead,” he mumbled. I wiped there too, and he nodded.
