Chapter 15
Ainsley
“Dear God, she’s stretching.”
“Say cheese.” She holds up her phone.
And I hold up my middle finger.
Ivori cackles. “You’re awfully cranky for someone who lucked out with absolutely flawless weather today.”
“I know.” I tilt my face toward the sun. “A beautiful spring day.”
I glance around the boardwalk, taking in the sea of people as they chat and pin bib numbers onto their loved ones’ shirts. The waves crash on the shoreline, a perfect backdrop for the race. I suck in a lungful of crisp salty air.
Miss you, Dad.
The announcer’s voice cuts through my thoughts, calling everyone to the starting line. The local radio station does a live broadcast from the boardwalk every year for the fundraiser.
Ivori holds out her palm, and I slap mine in hers so she can pull me up. We head to the front of the line, beside Evan and his son, Lucas.
“Thanks for being here, Luke.” I bump my fist against his.
“Wouldn’t miss it, Aunt Ainsley.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Rest of the team is here too.”
Many of Breakwater’s students are here. Whether they’ve lost someone to cancer, or they’ve had me as their math teacher at some point, our school’s loyalty runs deep.
My varsity team pushes their way through the crowd, loud as hell, Natalie at the head of the pack.
“Hey, Coach.” Natalie nudges me with her shoulder.
“Thanks for coming, team.”
Some of the JV girls came out, as well, and I nod to show them my appreciation. I mentioned it last practice, not expecting them to give up their Saturday morning to be here. I’m happy they did.
“Look around,” Evan whispers. “You did this.”
My smile widens as it sinks in. “This is a great turnout.”
“Definitely more than last year,” Ivori says.
Then I hear, “Coach Fletcher, over here!”
My head whips around as my stomach drops.
Landon strides across the boardwalk with his mother beside him, just as the announcer starts talking again. I track him through the crowd, in a black hat and a white fundraiser shirt.
I grunt. At least he bought a shirt.
When they reach the JV players, I turn around and wrap my arms around Marie. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
“Of course, sweetie.” She clutches my shoulders as she holds me out in front of her. “Your father is shining down on us today.”
Emotion clogs my throat, and I turn to face forward, focusing on the race ahead of me. I bounce on my toes, shaking out my arms. Nerves bubble under my skin.
The horn sounds, and everything fades away. I explode from the starting line, sticking my earbuds in and cranking the volume.
Most of the people keep a steady pace behind me, except Lucas and his lacrosse buddies who sprint down the boardwalk to race.
I chuckle as they scream dumb things at each other.
Out of the corner of my eye, someone comes up alongside me with a strong stride.
Then he passes me.
Black hat, white shirt.
ROBERT MORGAN in bold letters between his shoulder blades.
My feet falter as unexpected emotion crawls up my throat. My father liked Landon. Even after our falling out, he told me not to be angry with him; that he was going through a lot; that eventually, he’d come around and apologize. I didn’t want to hear it, of course.
What would he think if he could see us now? If he could see the way I carry this grudge like a suit of armor to protect me from ever trusting anyone again?
I push my legs to catch up to Landon. “Hey, Fletcher.”
He turns his head to the left as I run beside him. “Great day for a run, huh?”
I purse my lips. “What’s with the shirt?”
His eyebrows pinch like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Like he wasn’t the one who typed my father’s name into the personalization section on the website when he purchased it.
“Why did you put my father’s name on it?” I ask, giving him the opportunity to say something—anything—that’d untwist this knot in my gut.
Landon turns to face forward. “That’s who this race is for, is it not?”
Disappointment dulls my senses. I bite my tongue, not wanting to waste my energy arguing with him.
I surge ahead, forgetting about him so I can get in the zone.
It’s not long before Landon’s right next to me again.
If I go any faster, I’ll peter out before the race is halfway done. But there’s no way I’m running next to this man the entire time. I hang back a few strides instead.
Landon glances at me over his shoulder. “Slowing down already?”
Anger bubbles to the surface. “I’m pacing myself.”
He laughs, slowing his strides until he’s beside me again. “Since when do you pace yourself?”
“Since you’re annoying the shit out of me while I’m trying to enjoy my race.” I push harder to get away from him, ignoring the protest from my legs and my lungs, from every part of me telling me to ease up.
But Landon matches me. “Wanna race?”
Now we’re talking.
I glance up at him. “What’s your wager?”
“Whoever loses has to donate a thousand dollars.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “You sure you want to be down a grand?”
He coughs out a laugh. “I have the money, but I won’t be losing.”
I roll my eyes though he can’t see it behind my Aviators. “Deal. Whoever crosses the finish line first wins.”
My body comes alive, adrenaline coursing through me and allowing the runner’s high to take over. Nothing fuels me the way competition does, and life has been seriously lacking in that department.
We keep pace beside each other, saving our energy for the final drag.
The smell of sweet sugar competes with the scent of the ocean the closer we get to the finish line. We started at the beginning of the boardwalk, away from the chaos of the rides and arcade games, running towards it. This way, people can eat and hang out when they cross the finish line.
I keep my sights set on the ferris wheel, growing larger the closer I get to it.
Landon huffs beside me, and I grin. “When was the last time you ran?”
“College.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline. “How are you in this good of shape without running?”
He flashes me a smile. “You checkin’ me out, Morgan?”
I clench my jaw as I toss him a glare. “I’m just saying—”
“Oh, my God. That’s why you slowed down before. You were checking out my ass!”
“I was not.”
I most definitely was.
“Stop sexualizing me. Geez.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Fletcher, but it won’t work.” I pant as my sneakers pound against the wooden planks. “My cardio is excellent. I can talk and run at the same time.”
I shouldn’t, of course. But I do it anyway just to show that I’m better than him.
Until the red banner comes into view, the two words scrawled across it in giant white letters.
FINISH LINE
This is it.
Go time.
Landon and I both lock in, leaving the banter and jabs behind us in the dust.
I break into a full-out sprint.
Landon’s right beside me, open-mouth breathing as he tries to keep up.
We’re neck and neck, neither of us willing to give in.
I dig deep, dipping into my reserves. My legs will be sore tomorrow, but I don’t’ care.
Fletcher is going down.
I fling myself over the finish line, and slow to a gradual stop. I bend forward, bracing my hands on my knees, gasping for air.
Landon doesn’t cross over until a good thirty seconds after me. He collapses onto the boardwalk, flat on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish.
His grin matches mine.
“Look.” I point down the way we came, my lungs burning as I try to talk. “Look how far back everyone is.”
Landon laughs, and clutches his chest. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m gonna need an oxygen mask.”
“You’re outta shape, dude.” I walk in a circle around him, hands on my hips. “You knew there was no way I was letting you win.”
“Yeah, I did.” He pushes off the boardwalk and sits up, leaning forward to reach for his toes. “Got you to smile though.”
I’m thankful for the flush in my cheeks from the run, otherwise he might get the impression that his words affect me.
Why do they?
As friends and students make their way across the finish line, we gather in a big huddle.
“Thank you for coming out today to support this cause,” I say. “It means a lot, and I know it would mean a lot to my dad if he were still here. Now, let’s eat.”
Everyone cheers, and then breaks off into smaller groups as they decide what they’re in the mood for.
I let Ivori know where I’m going, and walk toward the beach.
In the off-season, there are no lifeguards on duty and you don’t have to pay to get on.
I pull off my sneakers and socks, letting my toes touch the cool sand.
Finding a spot away from the kids running around chasing the waves, I drop down and rest my forearms on my knees, gazing out at the water.
Seagulls squawk overhead. The sun peaks out from behind a cloud for a moment until another one covers it up again. Foam bubbles on the sand as the wave retreats before the next one rushes up.
Only when I’m here does it hit me that I’m truly alone in this world. No parents, no family connecting me to something bigger. The vastness of the ocean makes me feel small. Maybe that’s why I love team sports so much; it’s like having a family unit you can count on.
I miss my parents.
I don’t have too many memories of my mother since she passed when I was so young.
But I remember the comfort I felt in her embrace.
I used to want a family of my own when I was growing up.
But everything changed after I lost my father.
Ivori isn’t wrong; I did isolate myself and keep men at arm’s length.
What’s the point of getting close to people when they can be gone in an instant?
It’s lonely, sure. But I’ll take the loneliness over grief any day.
A white T-shirt and black shorts come into view in my peripheral, lowering to the sand beside me.
I stifle a groan. “Seriously, dude? The whole beach and you have to plop down next to me?”
Landon smirks. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m good. How’s your ego after the loss?”
“It’s still intact.” His brown eyes bore into mine. “You know, I never had an issue with losing to a girl. You keep saying that, but that was never a problem for me.”
I cough out an incredulous laugh. “So, your issue was just with me then?”
“My issue was my father, and the pressure of trying to get the hell out of this place.”
I let his words hang between us, let them sink into my brain, into the perception I’ve had all this time. I was so focused on myself back then, on winning, on being the best. I knew Landon was going through a difficult time, but I didn’t truly put myself in his shoes.
He’s right. We were young. Our worlds revolved around ourselves, and showing empathy for the other wasn’t a priority when it got in the way of our own wants.
I tear my eyes away from his and focus on the rippling water ahead of us. “Look, today’s not the day to rehash our past.”
“But another day?” He leans in, pulling my attention back to him. “Another day, you’ll let this conversation happen?”
My eyes bounce between his. “Sure.”
I don’t know if I mean it or not, but it’ll stop him from looking at me with such intensity, like this matters to him.
Like what I feel towards him matters.
It shouldn’t.
Just like it shouldn’t matter why he chose to put my father’s name on the back of his shirt today.
Yet...
“Why did you put his name on your shirt?”
This time it’s Landon who casts his gaze toward the ocean. “He was a good man. I wanted to run today in memory of him.”
I watch his profile, his sharp jawline, the slope of his nose, the way his dark lashes fan out as he blinks.
“You’re lucky you had him for the time that you did,” he says. “I’d trade spots with you in a heartbeat. To have someone love you so fiercely, even if only for a short time, is worth everything.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and my throat burns. “Losing him wrecked me.”
“I know.” His hand moves across the sand to cover mine. “Neither of you deserved that.”
“You didn’t deserve what your father did to you either.”
A light chuckle rumbles in his chest. “None of us deserved the hands we got dealt. That’s life though.
My therapist helped me come to terms with that.
Life’s not fair, and bad shit happens to good people.
But you don’t have to focus on that. You can choose to focus on the good.
On the happy moments we get. Those make all the bad worthwhile. ”
I nod. “Change your perspective.”
“Exactly.”
I grimace. “I could probably benefit from some of that.”
“You think?” He laughs. “Therapy really helped. You should try it.”
It’s not a jab this time. It’s a piece of advice.
From a friend...?
Not sure what Landon Fletcher is to me at this point.
But maybe it’s time I change my perspective.