Page 7 of Run

And he wasn’t just another drunk or lowlife looking to score.

He was Vincent. The love of my life, the man I’d left without looking back.

One I could never be with again.

I knew all those things, knew them as much as I knew that my stomach had dropped, that my hands were far too unstable to do anything but hold tight to the rag that I crushed in my fingers.

Run.

That word replayed in my mind over and over again, but I fought hard, so very hard, to ignore it.

Doing so was difficult. Almost impossible.

Because Vincent was here.

My mind froze as I processed that realization.

I’d thought I’d never see him again.

I’d wanted to. Still dreamed of him every night, but that part of my life was behind me. He was behind me. I told myself that over and over again every day.

But Vincent was here now, and even if I hadn’t immediately recognized him, even despite the changes that the years had wrought, I would still know it was him. Like always, my heart leaped whenever he was near.

I wanted to go to him, but I couldn’t give in to that pull.

Because Vincent would be my undoing.

He would barrage past all my defenses, take me back to a place I swore I would never go again.

Which was why I needed to run.

I didn’t though, and instead just stood there stunned, and then finally managed to start serving drinks again after the third call from Gage and his posse.

I went through the motions, every nerve of my being still focused on Vincent.

That instinct to leave rode at me hard, made it nearly impossible to keep my feet rooted, but I did.

If I left in the middle of the shift, I would draw more attention, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t know why Vincent was here or what he wanted.

Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all.

At that thought, my face twisted into a smile, one I felt deepen as I filled yet another beer.

Vincent hadn’t come here for me. I knew him as well as I knew anyone, and I knew that his pride would never let him do such a thing.

But now that he was here…

I also knew that Vincent was tenacious. Focused to the point of obsession. It was what my father had always liked so much about him. Was the thing that made him so terrifyingly good at what he did.

So he might not have been here for me, but now that he knew I was here, he wouldn’t let it go.

Wouldn’t let me go.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

Liar!my brain screamed.

I did know how I felt about it. Knew that Vincent’s certainty, that his intensity, was something I craved and treasured. Knew that the safety I felt when I was with him was something I could again become addicted to.