Page 45 of Angels & Whiskey
Fuck …
I started the treadmill with a brisk walk for a few minutes then into a steady jog. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, waiting for her to leave because she didn’t want to be seen talking to me or around me. Instead, she continued to run until her three miles were over.
She stopped the treadmill and I glanced at her, still holding my jogging pace. She was looking at me, but quickly turned her head. I thought she’d leave since she was done, but instead, she stepped off the treadmill and stopped behind me. My feet faltered a little as I tried to turn my head to see her, but I couldn’t.
After a few beats, she started to walk then stopped again. I could finally see her through the reflection of the mirrors in front of me. She looked as if she were lost in thought and arguing with herself.
Before I could stop the treadmill and talk to her, Jackson walked up. “Hey, Autumn. Fancy meeting you here.” He smiled then looked at me, using the mirrors so our eyes could meet. He was up to no good.
“Hey, Paul. Good to see you again.”
“My boy’s not being creepy is he?”
I shot him a look as my blood started to boil.What the fuck?
She smiled. “No. Actually,” she turned to me, “can I talk to you for a second? When you’re done with your workout, of course.”
“I’m done,” I said, pressing the stop button and jumping off before the belt stopped moving.
I gave a nod to Jackson as I walked by, following Autumn. He smiled wide with approval and I wanted to punch him as I passed him, but I refrained. I knew he was trying to break the ice with her, but seriously—what the fuck? Fucking prick.
I didn’t ask Autumn where we were going. Instead, I just followed behind her as she walked down a few halls and then into a vacant racquetball court.
“You want to play racquetball?” I questioned, looking around the high-walled room.
“No. If I have spies watching me, they can’t hear us in here.”
I nodded in approval. “Good thinking.”
“Yesterday—”
I cut her off. “I’m sorry if I was too forward—”
“No,” she shook her head, cutting me off in return. “Just—your words hit me hard.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean—”
“Gabe, just listen to me. My husband doesn’t hit me. He grabs me—”
“I knew it! That’s not any better.” I crossed my arms over my chest, spreading my legs wide as if I were ready to throw down. I was. I hated the thought of a woman being abused, especially the one standing in front of me.
“Please, let me get this out before I lose my nerve.” She scrunched her eyes with a pleading look.
I gestured for her to continue. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“The other day, I finally told my best friend about my husband. She’s the only person I’ve told … until now. I’m done having him control me. One minute he’s screaming and hurting me, and the next he’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”
I chuckle with sarcasm, shaking my head. Her husband sounded like a piece of work and I couldn’t wait to throttle the guy.
“The day you saw me at Starbucks,” she continued, “I didn’t realize that my bruises were showing. I’ve never forgotten to hide them before.”
“I was meant to see them,” I interjected.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Something’s going on. The day I told Brandi, I ran into you and now everything feels as if it’s coming together. I bought a gun—”
“You bought a gun?” I asked, my arms still crossed across my chest.
“I don’t plan to use it. I just bought it to have it.”
