PART 3 – CHAPTER 143
JESS
When I stepped outside, the morning air was cool against my skin. The whole neighborhood was still asleep, and that was exactly how I preferred it: no people. I glanced over my shoulder at my neighbor’s house, a pitch–back Jeep outside.
There was something comforting about the silence, the solitude. As I started off at a slow jog, my body quickly fell into the rhythm, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Running is my sanctuary. My escape.
With each step, I felt the familiar tingle in my muscles and the steady thrum of my heart as I picked up the pace. I wasn’t chasing anything–I was just trying to find that space where everything else faded away, where I didn’t have to think about the missing memories or the questions that haunted me.
But as much as I tried to lose myself in the run, Luke’s face kept surfacing. His voice, his smell. The way I wanted to smooth the frown from his brow.
Why him? Why was it always him? Every time I close my eyes his face pops up. Haunting me.
By the time I reached the top of the hill overlooking the valley, my legs were burning, my breath coming in sharp bursts, but I didn’t care. The view was breathtaking, the early morning sun casting a soft glow over everything. For a moment, I stood
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PART 3–CHAPTER 143
there, hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath.
“Jess.”
The voice, deep and familiar, startled me, sending a jolt through my chest. I turned, half–expecting to see Luke standing there. But there was no one–just the wind and the empty path behind
- me.
The cool mountain air vanished as I snapped back to reality, the sound of my alarm cutting through the peaceful remnants of my dream. My heart pounded in my chest, not from running but from this insane dream. Was it even a dream? Maybe it was a
memory.
I couldn’t ask Luke. He hasn’t made any effort to contact me.
We didn’t have a discussion about what we were and where my memory loss left us – but I had assumed he left me, as in
Luke. His face had been so clear, younger but undeniably him. I could still see the concern etched in his features and hear the way his voice made something in me tighten and relax at the same time. That dream–was it just that, a dream? Or a memory?
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