11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
WESTON
T he last three days had been bearable because I’d kept strict rules in place and hardly spent time with Rebecca. The hug we’d shared a few nights ago had nearly undone me. Her softness against me had brought a rare sense of peace and I hated myself for hoping she’d ask for another one sometime.
I’d agreed to let her cook for me, driven by a bone-deep weariness, the kind that made my once-unshakeable grit feel like a distant memory. The upcoming race was more than just a competition; it was a salute to Jared. I’d never missed an Ironman since his passing, and with her meal plan helping, I couldn’t refuse it.
I kicked myself for overlooking something so fundamental as proper nutrition. I guess, somewhere along the line, I’d just gotten sloppy with my self-care. But there was more to it than just food; there was a formula, a complex interplay of alternative types of food, blood sugar levels, and calorie counts. Rebecca seemed to master this formula effortlessly, understanding it in a way that was almost second nature.
While grateful to be feeling more like myself, her tasty food and unguarded kindness chipped away at the fake mask I’d always associated with her. Seeing different sides to her rattled me. Thankfully, my training had been my saving grace as it helped clear my head and gave me an excuse to leave the house.
Now, she wanted to steal my coping mechanism. Not if I could help it.
I was supposed to complete a chilled ten-mile run this evening. I wasn’t changing my pace or cutting it short for her. She’d give up before we got through one mile, I was sure of it. I tried to dissuade her again after I’d finished changing, but she just followed me out of the house.
I took off running, irritation boiling inside of me. “Rebecca, you need to learn how to take no for an answer.”
Rebecca ran alongside me. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just thought doing more stuff together would be good for our friendship. And, just so you know, I prefer Becky over Rebecca. It’s what my friends call me. Why do you stick with Rebecca?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I already told you I don’t need more friends. I’m not your friend.”
There was a momentary flicker in her eyes. She frowned at me and said, “Not this ‘no more friends’ business again. You’re stuck with me.” She tried to make it sound light, like a joke. But then her grin faded, her brows furrowed deeper, and a chilling quietness fell over her. The spirited, vivacious woman who never ran out of things to say was suddenly robbed of words.
I found myself uncomfortably aware of the silence. It dawned on me, perhaps too late, that my words had affected her more profoundly than I had meant. I might be a man of few words, but I knew I’d said one too many this time.
She wasn’t wrong when she said I’d be stuck with her. We hit the one-mile mark, and she’d kept up. Impressive, considering she was so much shorter than me. We hit the three-mile point and I couldn’t believe she was still next to me. Her breathing was much heavier than mine, but she was moving. I upped my pace, curious to see if she would continue to keep up or if she would be sensible and abandon the idea of keeping me company. If I was honest, I still hoped for the latter; I needed my coping mechanism back. But she silently trailed behind me for the next one and a half miles.
“Okay, I give up. You win,” she said in a breathless voice that broke the tense silence. She halted, as if she were a robot suddenly depleted of its battery. I stopped too, intending to point her toward home. It was a busy road, and she’d be safe enough running home alone. Except she quickly dashed toward the bushes, and I heard her throwing up. Oh man, so she was pushing herself too hard.
“Rebecca, are you alright?” I asked.
“Just go, we’re not friends, remember? So don’t worry about me,” she said from inside the bushes. “I need to catch my breath here for a few minutes.”
“Unless you can show me you’re fit to run home, I can’t leave you.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” she said, sounding anything but fine.
“Nope. I’m only leaving when I can see you running toward home.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve got a stitch. I can’t move,” she said between heavy breaths.
The word “stitch” sent a chill down my spine. Jared had said the same thing. He’d insisted he was fine, too. And then... I shook the memory away, but the fear gnawed at me. I started running again out of sheer frustration at her stubbornness, and then I doubled back. I couldn’t abandon her.
“Just climb on my back,” I said into the bushes. If anyone saw me talking to the foliage like this, they’d think I’d lost my mind. “I’ll piggyback you home and I’ll still get my training in,” I offered again.
Her voice emerged from the bushes, a mixture of defiance and exhaustion. “I don’t need your help. Seriously, just leave me alone. You need to learn how to take no for an answer,” she spat back. Her words stung more than I anticipated, her uncharacteristic bitterness finding its mark.
The sky began morphing into the early shades of twilight. “It’s going to get dark soon. I won’t leave you here. Please, Rebecca,” I said, letting my genuine concern seep into each word.
The silence that ensued wasn’t empty. It was filled with the clashing of our wills. She was catching her breath, and perhaps, I reckoned, catching up with the reality of the situation. I watched her face (what I could see of it through the leaves) the way her eyes lingered on the horizon before drifting back to me, her annoyance slowly being replaced by contemplation .
“Okay, fine. But I’m not happy about it,” she finally said, her voice less fiery and carrying a tone of surrender, which oddly didn’t feel like a victory.
Rebecca stumbled out of her hiding place. As she clambered onto my back, every muscle in my body tensed. I hadn’t anticipated the electric jolt from the warmth of her body pressing into mine. It was a mistake, this proximity, but what other choice did I have? I was partly to blame for pushing her too hard during our run. And now, whether it was rational or not, I needed to get her home, away from any danger, away from any chance of history repeating itself.
The silence between us was heavy, and I couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset… or if it was directed at me or herself. I decided it was best not to open that can of worms.
We continued back along the beach roads. The salty sea breeze gently brushed against our skin. I was acutely aware of her every movement, her every breath.
By the time we reached home, my muscles screamed from the exertion; at least the run hadn’t been a total waste. But as Rebecca slid from my back, it was as if she was taking something vital with her. Her absence left a coldness that seeped into my bones. Without a word, she retreated to her cottage, leaving me standing there, a mix of relief and regret churning in my chest.
The next day, I awoke and followed my usual routine. Darcy dropped off Eeyore and he made himself comfortable in my bed, likely soaking up the warmth I’d left behind. My training schedule called for an ocean swim, and although it was raining, I knew it would be good practice for race day.
By the time I finished my swim, the rain had stopped. When I returned, I was surprised to find Rebecca absent from her porch. Odd. Perhaps she was sleeping in since it was a Saturday? Or maybe the rain had scared her off?
I tried to ignore the subtle guilt that crept up on me, reminding myself that it was her choice to join my run yesterday. I deserved to run on my own, but perhaps I shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me. It didn’t help that Eeyore kept looking at me as if I’d eaten his last favorite treat. Did he know the woman who rescued him was on the property?
I showered and busied myself with responding to work emails, but there was still no sign of Rebecca. This was exactly what I’d feared. I’d grown accustomed to having her nearby, even though we rarely spoke. I should have been enjoying a quiet Saturday alone. Instead, I missed her presence. Just great.
Frustrated and restless, I decided a change of scenery was in order. The grocery store seemed like a plausible escape. I grabbed my keys. An unexpected sense of urgency filled me as if simply walking through the aisles lined with produce and canned goods could somehow prevent me from feeling anything.
The grocery store was busier than usual for an early Saturday morning, full of the soothing hum of life and trivial concerns. I wandered up and down, my hands automatically reaching for items I didn’t really need, my mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Rebecca.
After returning home with more groceries than I could possibly justify, I methodically put everything away. It was a mindless activity, yet in its simplicity, I found a moment of clarity. I resolved to go check on her. The gentleman in me knew I had better apologize for yesterday. And if I just caught a glimpse of her face, I’d satisfy my newfound craving for her presence, and then I could get on with my day. This was no big deal. I could be friends with her. No big deal. I gave the dog a treat and ruffled his fur.
“Good boy, stay put while I go appease your rescuer.”