Can't Fight It - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,18
Milo and even Chase. The Callahans must have strong genes.
I scroll down, scanning his page. He hasn’t posted recently, but there are a few tags. More army pictures, usually featuring the same small group of guys, and more recently, All Fit Gym. They took to social media to promote his hiring, as well as push a few of the classes he’s starting. I end up checking out the descriptions of each one, noting one particular I wouldn’t mind checking into. It’s a self-defense class for women, as well as one-on-one personal defense lessons, which includes kickboxing and karate introductions.
Redirecting my browser to the All Fit website, I can see why Gabby thinks an overhaul is necessary. Their current site is plain and lacks any recent news. All of those classes they’re starting with Colton should be promoted on their website, with a direct link to sign up. A blog might also be a great addition to their site, where trainers and coaches can make weekly posts to engage their audience. Eating healthy, time management at the gym, personalized workouts, and classes. All things they could promote to their targeted audience.
My wheels are still spinning as I close out of their site and exit social media. A quick scan of my online bank account reveals a dangerously low amount of money, and even though I anticipated that number, it’s still alarmingly shocking. After paying first and last month’s rent, as well as my moving expenses and covering the purchases I made today at the store, I’m in desperate need of a little incoming cash. Hopefully, I can finish up this site and get paid sooner, rather than later, and then move on to the next one waiting in the wings. My business is successful, but the recent move took a hit to my finances.
After logging out, I notice the email icon lit up, so I hop over to check it out. I always get excited when I see a contact via my website because I know it’s someone looking for my services. If I’m lucky, they’ll sign on for a design soon, so I can get my checking account back up to where I prefer to keep it.
The message fills my screen, and my blood runs cold. My eyes fill with tears as I look at the seven words written, each one of them a reminder of the truth I’m running from. A truth that has followed me halfway across the United States. One that will continue to haunt my dreams, leaving me looking over my shoulder.
Contact: [email protected]
Message: You can run, but you can’t hide.
With a shaky hand, I log out of my email and shut down the laptop. I turn off my new lamp, a sliver of light from the streetlight outside filters through the blinds and dances across the floor. I snuggle under the blanket for warmth. A chill sweeps through my body, though it has nothing to do with the temperature outside.
He doesn’t know where I am.
I know it.
If he did, he’d already be here.
I’m safe.
I just wish I believed it.
A voice filters through the wall, steady and sure. Even though tears soak my pillow, I smile. Colton is singing again to his son. My heartbeat starts to slow, and my body starts to relax, as I reach out and grasp that little sliver of comfort he doesn’t even realize he’s providing.
******
By Tuesday evening, I feel a proud sense of accomplishment sweep through me. Glancing around my apartment, I smile. My cabinets are stocked with new-to-me kitchenware, and my oversized chair and ottoman are positioned in the tiny nook by the window. There’s a floor lamp behind it and an empty bookshelf just under the window, and the small refrigerator has a little more food than it did the past few days.
The company I was working on the website for approved the model design yesterday, suggesting just a few minor tweaks. I should have the final product ready to go live by the end of the week, and the best part is they already paid their entire bill, including a ten percent tip. When that hit my account this morning, I went and purchased a few of the items I’ve had on my list, and still have cash in my account, a big thanks to the secondhand stores I’ve found in town.
The only thing I’m still needing is my bed, which should be delivered tomorrow. The furniture store called and said their shipment was arriving early, and while