Page 44 of Paths
I feel someone touch my arm and hear Mary as she leans in close. “I think he might explode.”
That was all it took.
Grady crinkles a piece of paper I didn’t know he was holding and turns to roughly pick up the basket, heading to the kitchen.
I move quickly to follow, calling, “Wait, what’s going on?”
But he doesn’t wait or explain anything to me. Like he’s been in the kitchen a million times, he stalks straight to the back door where the loading dock is located. Right when I clear the doorway, I see him at the dumpster just in time to hear the crash as he violently slams the flowery pink plant inside.
“Holy shit,” Clara mutters from beside me. I agree wholeheartedly.
I move to Grady and look down into the dumpster where the plant is now mangled with all the smelly trash.
But I don’t care about the flowers. I look back up to Grady because all I care about is him being upset. “Are you okay?”
His rage is still festering, but I see him take a deep breath and he lowers his voice. “You’re not going back to him.”
Confused, I shake my head. “What? Of course, I’m not.”
He takes a step and his hand comes to my jaw where he levels his eyes with mine. “You’re not going anywhere without me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
I lift my hand to gently give his wrist a squeeze and soften my voice to calm him. “Okay, but you have to tell me what all this is about.”
“Oleander.” He lifts his hand up with the crinkled piece of paper to read it aloud. “My dear Maya—An oleander for you as a reminder of how anything around you can be deadly if you don’t choose wisely. It’s time to come home.”
My eyes widen and he instantly crinkles the paper again, throwing it harshly into the dumpster, with what I now know is a poisonous plant.
“It’s signed Byron Murray,” he growls. “He’s not getting anywhere near you. None of them are—I promise.”
I exhale and nod right before he pulls my face to his where he kisses me—deeply and passionately—showing me he’ll take care of me.
“Holy shit,” Clara exclaims again.
“You got that right,” Mary agrees.
Chapter 13 – Don’t Call Me A Carrot Cake
Grady –
This is the first time I’ve run since before I was captured.
I’ve been a long-distance runner since I joined the Army at eighteen. The Army didn’t care whether I liked running or not. It had to be done and it was another way I could work at being the best, distinguishing myself from my peers. I’ve always been competitive, but that drive went to another level when I enlisted. I knew I needed something—a direction, a focus—and I knew I’d never find it in college.
When my organization approached me, explaining a top-secret group wanted to discuss alternative career options, they didn’t have to ask twice. If there was ever a career created specifically for me, it was being a Soldier of Fortune. I was top-notch for nine years—on top of my game, had my specialty, and was in high demand.
Until I lost my focus. I let the guilt fuck with me.
When my fascination with Maya began, I’d notice her running every night. That turned into watching her go from camera to camera. I’d wait for her. Like a pathetic dog knowing it was time, there I was. If she didn’t come out for me to stalk, it almost hurt.
So now, after all that, to have her close to me and actually be running with her? I can’t describe it, other than it feels like another piece of my puzzle has fallen into place. And after what happened with the fucking flowers today, there’s no way I’ll be able to tear myself away from her.
I asked her to point the way, even though I know her normal course. I can’t let her know how much of a freak I am just yet. I keep her pace, which is a quick one, letting her lead as I follow. Now I’m glad I paid attention to the course so I’d know when to take the lead. Otherwise, I would be lost in the way her body moves effortlessly through the woods and hills.
After we finish mile four, I shift next to her. When she glances at me, she narrows her eyes, and instantly quickens her pace. We aren’t jogging. She’s fast and efficient with her strides.
We haven’t said a word since we started, which I’m thankful. For the next two miles, I focus on her breathing and match my pace to hers. I keep my eyes on the path we’re maneuvering side-by-side, letting myself absorb the feeling of being close to her, moving in tandem, like one, but still not.
I do this for six miles, and the whole time I have to work at not getting hard. It takes all my concentration and strength—listening to Maya Augustine breathe hard for that long is not easy.
