They finish on her, in her, all over her - and then she has to walk home. Cum on her face, dripping down her thighs, neighbors slowing their cars to stare. Brad is right where she left him on the couch. He looks up. "Good jog?"

He doesn't notice. He never notices.

But this was never just one Sunday morning. Three years and one very specific secret later, in a brand-new neighborhood in a brand-new state, Chloe laces up her running shoes again - and hears a basketball bounce on cracked asphalt two blocks from her front door.