Chapter 3 - Same Spot

The sun hit him like it had something to prove.

Dwayne stepped out of her building and into the morning glare, barely noticing the world around him. Everything felt too loud, horns, voices, the rhythmic thud of a delivery truck backing up. He moved on autopilot, jaw clenched, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, heart hammering like it was trying to outpace the thoughts in his head.

He reached his car but didn’t get in.

Instead, he leaned against the door, eyes shut, trying to breathe.

Her voice was still in his ears.

“Please… don’t go.”

Soft. Unexpected. Real.

And that was the problem. It felt too real. Too close.

He opened his eyes and stared at his reflection in the driver’s side window. The man looking back at him looked calm. Detached. Controlled.

But it was a lie. Just like everything else.

He got in the car, shut the door harder than necessary, and sat there. Engine off. Keys in his hand. Forehead pressed to the wheel.

You let her in. That wasn’t the plan.

There was no room for connection. No room for softness. Especially not with her. Especially not now.

He hit the steering wheel once. Not hard. Just enough to feel something. His pulse was unsteady, blood thrumming in his ears like a warning.

This is what happens when you talk.
This is what happens when you remember.

He thought about driving off, disappearing for a few hours. A few days. But he had nowhere to go. Not really.

And the worst part?

He wanted to turn around. Go back upstairs. Sit down. Finish the sentence that had been stuck in his throat since the first day he walked into her office.

But he couldn’t.

Not until he figured out if he could trust her.

Not until he decided whether he was there for help… or forgiveness.

He started the engine, but didn’t move.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He didn’t check it right away. Didn’t have to.

Something in his gut twisted.

Finally, he pulled it out and stared at the screen.

The number was familiar.

“You always did talk too much.”

His jaw locked.

No name. No greeting. Just that sentence, sharp and surgical.

Another buzz followed before he could react.

“Let’s hope you kept the rest to yourself.
Same spot. Tonight. 9PM.”

Dwayne exhaled slowly, like the breath had to be dragged from his lungs.

He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

His fingers tightened around the phone.

The message didn’t need to say more.

He knew exactly where “same spot” was. He’d been going there every Thursday night like clockwork. Quiet. Unnoticed. Envelope in hand. No questions asked.

Tonight made it three months in a row.

He stared at the screen until it went dark.

The past was never done with him.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket without responding. There was no point.
They already knew he’d come.

He always did.

He drove off and headed home.

The day passed in a haze.
He drifted through it, errands, noise, people. None of it mattered. Not with 9PM creeping toward him like a shadow.

Same park. Same trailhead.
But everything felt different under the streetlamps.

Dwayne stood at the edge of the running path, hands in his pockets, breath low and steady. The gravel beneath his feet was familiar, too familiar. This was where he used to jog every morning. Back when mornings still had meaning. Back when silence didn’t feel like punishment.

Now it was just a dead memory with a pulse.

The trees swayed gently in the breeze, branches creaking like old bones. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and then nothing.

Dwayne stood with his hood up, hands in his pockets, eyes on the trail that disappeared into dark trees. The wind rustled the leaves above him like whispers, low, knowing.

He didn’t have to check the time.
She was always on schedule.

And then… footsteps.
Soft and steady. Lighter than his, but not afraid.

She appeared from the shadows like she’d never left them, black leggings, windbreaker, ponytail swinging low. Just like before.

Except now, she didn’t jog toward him.

She stalked.

“Still punctual,” he said without turning.

“I like routine,” Sienna replied, brushing past him just close enough that he could smell her perfume, subtle, sharp, familiar.

He handed her the envelope. She took it, held it, but didn’t tuck it away immediately.

“You always give me cash,” she said, teasing. “You afraid of a digital trail… or just trying to be romantic?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Nothing romantic about hush money.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, stepping in front of him now. “You used to say that about jogging. Then you made it our thing.”

Dwayne didn’t flinch, but she saw the flicker in his eyes.

“Those were different mornings,” he said.

“Not that different.” She tilted her head, smiling slightly. “You still come here. Same time. Same path. Alone.”

“You know, we used to come here to run off stress. Talk about dreams. Remember that?” Her voice dropped. “Now you just show up with cash like it’s court-ordered.”

“I don’t run anymore,” he said quietly.

She stepped in closer. “You should. Still suits you. Especially in the mornings. Shirt half-soaked, breath ragged—”

“Stop,” he cut in, low.

She tilted her head, smirking. “Still got that edge. Thought therapy was supposed to round you out.”

He didn’t flinch. “It’s not therapy that’s the problem.”

“Then what is?” she asked, tone softening just slightly. “Me?”

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

She reached out, fingers grazing his jacket sleeve, just long enough to remind him she could.

“You miss it?” she asked. “The running… or what came after?”

Dwayne stepped back, eyes harder now. “Take the money, Sienna.”

She took it, finally, but not without another smile.

“You keep paying like this, people might think you still care.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

She walked off, hips swaying like punctuation at the end of a sentence.

Before the shadows swallowed her whole, she looked back over her shoulder.

“See you next Thursday, D.”

---

Flashback

Six months ago. 5:46 AM.

The morning air was thick with dew and the hush of a world not fully awake. The gravel crunched beneath their sneakers as they jogged along the winding trail, side by side now, their pace perfectly matched like it had always been.

Sienna ran like she belonged to the earth, strong, steady, her breath measured, hair tied back but wild at the edges. Every few strides, she glanced at him with a teasing smirk, the kind that used to unravel him.

“Trying to keep up or just admiring the view?” she asked, barely winded.

Dwayne smiled, shaking his head. “Can’t it be both?”

She laughed, soft and real, and that sound alone made his chest ache.

They slowed near the bend, just where the trees opened up and the early sunlight broke through in long gold ribbons. The same spot they always stopped to stretch. Or to pretend they needed to.

Sienna bent forward to loosen her calves, her body warm with sweat and intention. Dwayne stood behind her, his pulse doing too much for someone who was supposed to be cooling down.

“Why do you always stop here?” he asked, voice low.

She looked up at him. “Because here… you look at me differently.”

His breath caught, just for a second. “How’s that?”

“Like you already know how this ends.”

A beat passed.

He stepped closer.

“I don’t,” he said softly. “I don’t know anything when I’m around you. Just that I want to stay right here.”

Her eyes softened. She reached for his hand, fingers first, slow and sure, and pulled him toward her.

Their lips met in that moment. No words. Just warmth and gravity. The kiss wasn’t urgent, it was heavy with something deeper, like they’d done this before in another life and were just now remembering how it felt.

When she pressed her palms to his chest, he covered them with his own and leaned his forehead against hers.

“I wish the world could stop right now,” she whispered.

“It already did,” he murmured.

They stayed like that for a long time, breathing the same air, skin damp with morning and meaning.

Back then, he thought this was the start of something real.

Back then, he didn’t know she was already pulling away.

---

Back to Present – Thursday Night

The wind had picked up. Dwayne didn’t know how long he’d been standing there after Sienna disappeared, but the cold had crept into his skin. The trail was empty again. Just trees. Gravel. Echoes.

His breath came slow. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky, black and wide and unforgiving.

The memory still clung to him like sweat.

That kiss.

That lie.

That morning she made him believe in something soft… right before she pulled the rug out from under it.

And now she was collecting payments like nothing happened. Like they hadn’t bled for each other once.

Dwayne rubbed his hands over his face, trying to scrub off the past, but it stuck.

His thoughts shifted.
Not to the girl who betrayed him.

To the woman upstairs.

Aaliyah Jackson.

He didn’t know what she was playing at. Maybe she wasn’t playing at anything. Maybe she really did just want to help. But something about the way she looked at him, like she saw him and didn’t flinch, unsettled him.

Because it had been a long time since someone saw him without a price tag attached.

He remembered her voice from earlier.

“You’re doing well, Dwayne… I’ve seen walls like yours—hell, I’ve built them myself.”

Built them.

Not climbed over them. Not torn them down.

Built.

That line stayed with him more than the others. Like maybe she wasn’t judging him. Maybe she understood.

But how far did that understanding go?

Could he trust her with the truth?
The whole truth?

Would she still look at him the same if she knew everything?

Or would her professionalism evaporate like everyone else's loyalty had?

He kicked a rock from the trail, watched it skitter off into the dark.

If Aaliyah was just another mask, he couldn’t afford to wear it.

But if she was something else, something real, then that was even more dangerous.

Because trust was the one thing he didn’t have to give anymore.

And yet…

Please… don’t go.

That voice. That look in her eyes.

It had cracked something open.

Now he couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to stop pretending, just once. To tell the truth and not be punished for it.

But not yet.

Not until he was sure.

Not until he knew that trusting her wouldn’t be another form of self-destruction.

He exhaled sharply, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked off the trail without looking back.