A Broken Place

Reverie’s shoes dug into a long, thin ribbon of sand behind the Orion Caribbean Suites, San Juan. The sound of the waves crashing against the breakers, and the majestic striations of color that painted her little stretch of beach made it worth the extra work of running through the sand. Reverie had never been a big fan of exercise, but now she had energy to burn. The ocean was calling her, and the beach was no longer brimming with tourists eager to soak up the Puerto Rican sun.

She ran, wide open, as close to the ocean water as she could get without soaking her shoes, resisting the urge to raise her hands in the air and shout like she’d just scored the game-winning run. Then she shouted anyway. Orion Caribbean, and its dozens of chic resorts, was now her customer. Crimson Sunset, LLC was next. It was only a matter of time before her dreams came true. Finally.

Wind whipped tiny strands of her thick hair into her chestnut brown eyes, and the waves danced raucously beside her. She was so busy looking out across the frothy water that she never saw the other runner. She felt the hit, and then she was flying through the air. Reverie landed with a wet thud and breathed in a mouthful of salty ocean water as she scraped along the bottom. She coughed and thrashed as a pair of strong hands pulled her from the waves. She wiped her hand across her eyes so she could clearly see whom she had collided with. It was a man with short, honey-colored hair streaked with blonde. His sapphire blue eyes held her in their gaze for a moment until the pain in her arm and leg demanded her attention.

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