Solitude. It was exactly what Jake Hinson had craved the most when he'd borrowed a friend's cozy cabin in the Arkansas Ozarks National Forest on the banks of the White River. He had told everyone he needed some time alone, away from cameras and microphones, intrusive questions and sympathetic gazes. He needed a chance to heal, both physically and emotionally, and he'd said he couldn't do either in the public eye.
Three days into his self imposed vacation, he was already becoming restless and lonely. He had spent half of his thirty years pursuing fame and attention, he thought wryly. He didn't even know how to live anonymously anymore.
As for the lazy relaxation that had seemed so appealing a few weeks earlier…well, he didn't know how to do that, either. He was accustomed to having every minute of every day scheduled. To going 180 miles per hour on the racetrack and 200 in his personal life. Inactivity was a foreign concept to him, and the novelty had worn off quickl ...
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