Chapter 4 #3
Throat dry, I swallowed uncomfortably. A painful combination of guilt and awkwardness tightened my chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was, right off the bat. That was wrong of me. There was honestly no premeditation on my part.”
“Wasn’t there? Were you, maybe, having a little fun with the locals? Playing games to amuse yourself?”
I shook my head. Part of me had really liked the fact that Joan didn’t know who I was. I’d wanted to be Ian Wells a little longer. But I’d never meant to deceive or hurt her. And I hated that she’d assumed I’d do something like that.
“No,” I insisted, taking a step closer. “I apologize for making you feel that way. It was not my intent to be malicious or withholding. At first, it was nice to just be Ian—that’s my real name, by the way—just a guy who sucked at running.
Then you wouldn’t tell me your name, and it was fun.
Like we had an inside joke. I got to be myself without any expectation.
I thought, maybe, you didn’t know who I was.
Believe it or not, I’m not some egotistical asshole who assumes everyone knows the great Dorian Masters. ”
Joan snorted an incredulous laugh, but her eyes had gone from hard blue daggers to something a little softer—possibly butter knives. Still sharp enough to carve out my heart, though, if she put time and energy into it. But something about her expression made me think she was actually hearing me.
“I never meant to make you feel like I was teasing you or enjoying myself at your expense,” I explained. “You’ve been kind.” Her look was disbelieving, so I amended, “Kind of tolerant of me.”
One side of her mouth quirked, like she was fighting a smile.
I didn’t let the sight affect me, though, and continued earnestly, “And your family was very welcoming. I wasn’t pretending anything, with any of you.”
Joan let out a breath—part aggrieved, part resigned. She moved to gather her chin-length hair into a short ponytail, but the black hair band snapped away in the process.
I leaned down to pick it up off the ground.
“Well, don’t expect any special treatment,” she said, already pulling a different elastic from her wrist. She wound it around the brown strands that were shot through with gray.
I knew from my conversation with her family the other morning that Joan was thirty-six—young to be going gray.
And knowing what little I did about her, I could easily see her being the sort of person who didn’t give a fuck if her hair was gray or brown or polka dot.
Of course, she wouldn’t dye it regularly or care what people thought about her age or her looks.
But it suited her. All her features, from her sharp cheekbones to her lithe, strong body to her brilliant blue eyes, were striking.
Her hair was just another memorable piece of her.
Something that set her apart, made her who she was.
She ignored the hair tie I held out to her and skewered me with a severe frown.
“Just because you’re some big movie star, doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.
Your wants and desires aren’t any more important than mine.
And all that fame won’t change the fact that I don’t plan on going easy on you.
If you still want to get in shape for your run—”
“I do,” I rushed out eagerly—embarrassingly so.
Truth be told, I was relieved she was still giving me the time of day.
Once I realized how truly angry she’d been—how much I’d hurt her with my carelessness—I’d fully expected her to write me off as more trouble than I was worth.
I couldn’t pinpoint why that made me feel so awful.
Like, if Joan Judd thought I was an insignificant waste of space, then maybe I really was.
“Then you’re going to have to work,” she said finally. She’d missed a piece of hair, and it clung to the side of her long, graceful neck. I told myself not to stare at her smooth skin. “I’m not some fancy personal trainer out in Hollywood.”
I slipped the hair band she wouldn’t take into my pocket. It was all stretched out anyway, with part of the white elastic showing beneath the black fabric. “I would never dream of comparing you to Maurice.”
She shook her head, but reached her arms up to stretch, like maybe she wasn’t done with our workout yet.
“See, I knew you had people for that.” She said people like they were the worst, most ridiculous thing she could think of.
Someone who wore berets or didn’t return shopping carts to the corral or was Creed’s biggest fan.
“I actually think you’d love Maurice. He takes great pleasure in kicking my ass.”
Her brows went high, obviously impressed. I guess the thought of me in pain was doing it for her. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded eagerly, playing it up a little for her benefit. “Definitely. I’ve been doing virtual workouts with him since I’ve been in North Carolina, but I’m going to meet your brother and someone named Abby at the gym tomorrow morning.”
Joan shook out her arms. “Jesus. So it begins.”
“So what begins?”
She motioned for me to follow her, then resumed her jog.
“Your indoctrination into this town. Before you know it, you’ll even be in the fucking Facebook group, arguing with the lunatics who live here.
” Her words were a little harsh, but there was fondness in her tone, a softness around her mouth, like maybe they were lunatics, but they were her lunatics.
“There’s a Kirby Falls Facebook group?” I pulled out my phone. “I want in. Send me an invite.”
She rolled her eyes once more, but she kept our pace slow and steady as we made our way up the hill where the Cosmic Crisps grew.
It felt like a gift.
From someone who didn’t hand them out very often.