The Run Up 2

By Sophia Jenkins

After Santana's discovery of her husband's infidelity, her life changes dramatically. Old friends become reacquainted, and old feelings for Dante reignite as Santana bravely faces an unknown future. Plunging into her work full force gives her the focus she needs to heal from her past, and get over the men that wronged her. Just when circumstances seem to be looking brighter for the physical therapist, a mysterious ransom note threatens to end everything she has worked for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sophia Jenkins
• Release date: Jan 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524234447

Book preview

Chapter One

Sitting in the dark, waiting for her adulterous husband, Santana silently fumed. Her brain would not stop replaying the pornographic scene of her once-dear husband fucking his secretary. How typical. How unoriginal. How very Davis of him. Gripping a cup of steaming peppermint tea, Santana sipped it slowly. The hot liquid almost scalded her mouth and throat as she swallowed. The pain was nowhere near what she experienced when she stumbled upon her husband’s infidelity. She couldn’t shake the images of his hand wrapped around the woman’s blonde hair, the strength and force his of thrusting into her, the moans and shrieks of ecstasy emitting from the slut’s lips. Shuddering, she wondered where was he now? Hadn’t they finished their guilty tryst already? She glanced at the wall clock in the living room. She had to squint her eyes to make out the time in the dim light. It was nearing eight o’clock. How long did it take to fuck?

She didn’t have to wonder long, as she heard the garage door opening. Her heart stopped momentarily, then began to beat inside her chest with a thunderous roar that she could hear in her ears. She listened carefully to hear Davis’s key turn in the lock and the jostling sounds of his settling in. She imagined him shaking off his suit coat and tossing it over the mud room bench, tossing his shoes to the side, almost exhausted from all the energy he spent fucking his receptionist. Finally, she didn’t need to imagine any more scenarios as Davis’s footsteps approached the darkened living room where she sat, poised, ready to embroil him with the truth. His silhouette paused in the doorframe.

Santana? he asked. Why are you sitting in the dark, babe? Migraine?

Her breathing quickened, matching the pace of her heartbeat. How she wished it was a fucking migraine and that she was having another conversation, but she steadied herself as she responded.

Who is she? she began, gulping another swallow of the hot tea, savoring the scald.

His body stiffened, and he changed positions, coming towards her, slowly. What?

Don’t fuck with me, Davis. Who the fuck is she? Her voice was calm, almost too calm for her. As she glared at Davis’s face almost obscured by shadows, she decided that he looked afraid. He looked guilty. Good.

Santana…I don’t know what to tell you. Standing in the middle of the living room, halfway between Santana and the door, he dropped his eyes, placing his hands on his hips defensively. His hair was mussed, and his shirt twisted in a haste to tuck it in. Santana took note of his disheveled appearance, noting the many showers that occurred before she had a chance to see him. This was what he was hiding.

How about you start with the truth? she demanded, not backing down. I came to your office tonight, Davis. I came to bring you dinner, trying to do something to save our marriage. I tried, and I saw you. I saw you fucking that blonde whore. Her voiced took on the emotion of the day, cracking and breaking as she struggled to hold back tears.

He seemed immoveable, except for the slight nodding of his head. Santana, I—. It’s not what it looks like.

Oh! Oh really! She stood up in anger, spilling the tea onto the white carpet. The flooring choice that they had spent weeks deciding upon, arguing about. It all seemed stupid and silly now—along with their marriage. What life had they created for themselves? No matter as it was crumbling down upon them now. Approaching him, she yelled into his downcast face.

Oh, well, it looked like your dick was inside that whore and you’re telling me that it wasn’t. Well, correct me if I am wrong here, Davis, but aren’t you supposed to reserve that for your wife? Isn’t that what our vows meant? Or were those not what they looked like either?

Davis ran his tongue over his lips, setting his teeth, and continued to nod his head, still avoiding eye contact. She’s my secretary. We are in love. He gave it up. He broke easily. Coward. Who was this fraud?

Santana roiled at his confession, then quickly found herself giggling uncontrollably. Davis looked at her now with a pathetic countenance, surprised at her adverse reaction. Her head was thrown back, her green eyes watering with each guffaw and chuckle. She tried to cover her mouth and stifle the sounds, but there was no use. It all came spilling out. You-you-you’re in love? she managed to spout in between laughs. Davis’s eyes seemed to plead with her. He shrugged, defeated. Love? she sobered. What the fuck is that?

Walking out of the room, she left Davis and her errant peppermint tea. He could fucking clean it up. Or leave it, she didn’t care. Plodding towards their bedroom, she quietly closed the door and locked it behind her. She inhaled deeply, making it to the unmade bed to sit, quite aware that her heart was racing and her breathing quickening. She put her hand to her chest to feel it pounding, just as the tears began to flow. They flooded her face with a salty reminder that she was in the midst of a crisis. Her marriage was failing, or had already failed. What was she to do with herself? Heaving breaths released more tears until she could force out no more. Wiping her red, swollen eyes, an idea came to her. She would leave town for the weekend. She certainly was not looking forward to spending any amount of time sharing the air with Davis. Their home was now a broken home, their marriage a dysfunctional joke. Resolved to leave, she caught sight of a picture of her and Davis at their wedding on the wall near the nightstand. Rushing towards it, she launched it off the wall, the shattering sound matched the sound her heart was making.

Santana wasted no time tossing