Whatever Life Throws at You by Julie Cross Page A

child.
    “He couldn’t handle the long-distance relationship?”
    “It ended even before I knew I was moving.” I release a breath, and I’m surprised by the fact that the wound doesn’t feel as fresh as it had a month or two ago.
    “So what happened?” Brody presses.
    “You really want to know? Like for real, not to tease me about it later?” I ask and Brody nods. “He started going to church all the time and then one day he told me he didn’t want to sin anymore so we couldn’t like, you know… do stuff . And believe me, Kenny is not the type to go all Jesus freak, so I had a feeling something else was up. I did a little investigating and found out it wasn’t so much church, as a boy at church.”
    “Oh,” Brody says, eyes widening. “Bummer. So did you call him out on it?”
    “Nah. I mean, I told him that I knew his secret but he didn’t want people to know. I kind of let him tell everyone that I wanted to leave Arizona unattached once I knew about the move.” Another reason why I’m not jumping at every opportunity to stay in contact with the remains of my past life.
    Brody gives me a half smile. “You’ll find someone else. Someone better.”
    “Where?” The models are still ogling him from the window, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I stand up and unroll my jeans. “At my all-girls school?”
    “Are you leaving me?” His dark eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, he’s that guy again—the one with the sunken shoulders, watching his teammates refuse his handshake and turn their backs on him.
    “I was thinking maybe I’ll go home and sleep in my own bed tonight.” I look over my shoulder at the wild guesthouse. “I’ve got a workout to do in the morning and that requires some sleep.”
    “What’s the plan tomorrow?” he asks. “Another two-mile sprint?”
    “Nope, just five miles, easy.”
    He stands up and slips his flip-flops back on. “Want some company?”
    Wait…what? I nearly trip over my own shoe. “Company?”
    “Tomorrow. Running,” he clarifies.
    “Right. Running.” That makes way more sense. “Sure…I mean if you think you can keep up.”
    Brody grins. “I’d like to try.”
    “My house. Eight o’clock.” I catch myself smiling when he turns around and walks toward the house, but the second he lets the blond models invade his personal space, the smile easily fades. I make a quick exit, so I don’t have to witness any more fan-girling. I can’t decide if I should be honored or insulted by the fact that he can sit and have such a relaxed personal conversation with me and then seconds later, turn into this playboy with models on both his arms. Does he hook up with two at the same time?
    I shake that image from my head and continue the half mile walk home. I’ll feel better tomorrow when I kick his ass, running.
    Annie Lucas : Okay, I lied. Winning isn’t everything. So sue me.
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    True to his word, Brody appears in my front yard at five minutes before eight. He’s wearing a red hoodie and track pants, his hair disheveled into a beautiful bedhead mess. My foot freezes mid-step when I see him.
    “You look surprised.” He leans against the lamppost in the yard.
    I shrug like it’s not a big deal. “You’re the one who claimed you wouldn’t ever be caught hanging out with high school kids again.”
    “This is not hanging out.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baseball cap, yanking it low over his eyes. “This is working out. And working out with you is not something Johnson would ever be concerned with. Or anyone for that matter.”
    I busy myself retying my running shoes. “Is that why you’re in disguise, trying to hide your face?” I lift a finger, pointing at his hat.
    “I did pitch pretty damn well yesterday. A mob of fans could be lurking around the neighborhood.” He mocks, darting his eyes