Chapter 123
Ethan
I groan as I bend down to pick up a stick. And groan again when I toss it off the trail.
After work last night, after I stayed late to make up for my long lunch break, I took Tilda with me to the gym.
She walked, looking cute as fuck and distracting as hell, in another pair of painted-on shorts. And I lifted weights.
A normal amount.
To start with.
But then she came over and sat on the bench next to mine, telling me she wanted to watch.
And since I’m not one to disappoint my wife, I kept going. With heavier weights. And more reps. And goddamn, I am feeling it today.
I roll out my shoulders and swing my arms back and forth.
If I get my blood pumping, then maybe my aching muscles will shut the fuck up.
I glance at the woods to my right, then down at my watch.
Not even ten thirty. Too early for lunch.
This part of the park is less traveled. The trails are less manicured. Mostly used by staff, like me, to check on the property lines and to make sure no one is camping where they shouldn’t.
I glance off to the right again.
Toward Tilda’s property.
It’s strange how it feels like hers now.
For so long, it was Jack’s. Now…
Now it’s hers.
I inhale the scent of pine.
Jack really did a fucking number with his little death plan. I don’t know if it’s psychotic or brilliant. Probably both. Definitely unethical.
But even without his interference, I feel certain.
I feel it in my fucking bones.
Tilda would still be mine.
I went over there that day, looking for Jack. Checking in. And I found her.
I found her, on the very same day she moved in, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.
Without Jack, we wouldn’t be married. Yet. But I would’ve kept finding her.
She’s impossible not to find.
She’s my way home.
I turn to the right.
It’s early.
Too early for my plan to surprise Tilda by showing up at her door for lunch.
But…
I take a step.
I can’t help myself.
I specifically came to this side of the park so I could see her.
My phone alerts me with a notification, and I pause.
I’m almost out of range for service. But I have enough to see the image of a car passing the trail cam on Tilda’s driveway.
I don’t recognize the vehicle. But when I zoom in on the image, I recognize the man in the passenger seat.
Fury and fear fill my lungs.
I exhale the fear.
I send a text.
Then I start sprinting through the woods.