Then he stepped into the stormy night and made sure to lock the door behind himself. A light flicked on at Mal’s house, and he nodded, moving into a jog and then a full-out run. Heated rain splattered against him, quickly soaking his T-shirt. He let the water run down his face, taking the punishment and running down the forested road even faster.

Emotions coursed through him along with the pain in his ankles and knees. He took the pain and tried for more.

Images clicked through his head, moments with Dana the night before. Fury choked him, making breathing difficult, but he didn’t relent.

He ran for almost two hours, along back roads, his tennis shoes splashing up mud. A couple of houses came into view and then a few businesses. The diner stood at the end of a dirt road, only two miles from the interstate and somehow only known by locals and a few truckdrivers. He slowed when its lights glowed into the wild night, walking the last several yards to the front door.

The bell clanged when he shoved it open.

Without halting, he turned and walked to the booth in the far back, his shoes squeaking on the cracked tiles and leaving a wet trail.

Nari Zhang took one look at him, slid from the side of the booth facing the door, and took the seat across from it. He claimed her vacated seat. “We’ll work on putting your back to the door some other night.” She crossed one leg beneath her and then dug a beach towel out of her bag. “Saw it was raining.”

He took the towel and wiped down his head and face. “I don’t want to practice my Mandarin tonight.” The shrink had been teaching him to speak one of her languages, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“I figured.” She retook the towel and shoved it in the beach bag. “We haven’t done this in a while.”

His skin went numb after the run. “I don’t like doing it.” But he’d promised her if he was ever in that state, the purely angry one, he’d text her and meet here after running.

“I appreciate you keeping your promise.” She sipped a cup of coffee.

The waitress sidled up, her orthopedic shoes spreading the water he’d dropped. “Wolfe? It’s a weird night to run.” Janice pulled an old-fashioned order pad from her faded green uniform. “You want the usual, hon?”

“No. Not hungry,” he said, trying to calm his voice for the seventy-year-old.

Nari nodded. “Bring him the usual. Thanks.”

“You betcha.” Janice turned on one shoe and made her way back to the kitchen.