Back to Life Read Free Page B

appropriate , I thought to myself when I heard the first chords of “Dreaming With A Broken Heart.”

Chapter 2  
    The week flew by. Between training for the new position and the lack of sleep courtesy of the memories the newspaper article incited, getting in the bed Friday after work was top priority.  Tonight I’ll sleep; tomorrow I’ll get out and clear my mind, I thought to myself as I climbed into bed.  Taking a sleeping pill, I settled into bed in hopes of finding the rest that had been eluding me for a week.  Unfortunately, even the sleeping pill couldn’t combat the strength of the sobs that racked my body as I woke up before the sun.
    Operating on a few hours of sleep, I decided to just go to the gym on the first floor of Libby Lof ts.  With music playing, I started the treadmill. Singing softly and teetering between walking and jogging, I focused on the songs and not my breathing. If I can control my breathing, I can control how far I run…and I can control impending panic attacks , I thought irritably as I picked up the pace. Before long, I felt sweaty, clear headed, and ready to try sleep again. I removed my earbuds and hopped off of the machine to stretch. And that’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone in the gym anymore.
    I’d never s een him before.  His caramel colored skin was slick with sweat. His low cut haircut was lined with extreme precision.  His muscles were thick, taut and well defined as he ran on the treadmill at the end of the row of cardio equipment.  From what I could tell from his profile, he was definitely good looking. I didn’t realize I was staring until he glanced at me. Flustered, I averted my eyes quickly and began my stretch.  Since sleep eluded me and tension coursed through my neck and back, completing my stretch routine took longer than usual.  I was thinking of all the things I wanted and needed to do for the day; I didn’t hear him stop his machine.
    “Nice voice ,” his deep voice interrupted my inner monologue.  Startled, I whipped my head up from my lower back stretch.
    “Excuse me?” I questioned slowly, not sure if I heard him correctly.
    His eyes sparkled as he smiled, “I said nice voice.”
    “You could hear me? I didn’t think I was singing that loudly,” I replied, feeling a little exposed.
    “Yes, I could hear you when I was warming up over there,” he pointed toward the bikes…which were right behind the treadmill I was on. “It was a much better soundtrack than the news. You perform often?” His long lashes and big, chestnut brown eyes looked warm as they crinkled in amusement.  The features of his face were sculpted from stone with his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones.  The dark brown hair of his 5 o’clock shadow looked ultra-sexy against his caramel colored skin.  He was the most breathtaking man I’d ever seen in my life.  He must be a model , I thought as I struggled to stop assessing his modelesque looks and to fight the unmistakable fluttering in my belly.
    “I don’t ever sing in front of anyone. But thanks ,” I murmured. Collecting myself, I squared my shoulders and gave him my signature detached stare.  I perfected polite detachment, especially with coworkers and neighbors.  One must be polite enough to be neighborly, but distant enough to not encourage relationships of any kind.
    “No problem. I’m Tyree . Up on the 9 th floor,” he extended his hand my way. 
    “I’m Sahara,” I said politely, shaking his hand . He has to be new to the building , I thought to myself. I’ve never seen him before and I would’ve remembered seeing him. And wait…he lives on the 9 th floor?!
    “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” Tyree responded with a smile.  His light brown skin contrasted nicely with his perfectly straight white teeth.  His muscular body and handsome face rendered me momentarily speechless. And I’m never speechless. Voluntarily mute, sure. But never speechless! I wanted to roll my eyes and call him