Chapter Ten
Ren
It had been two nights since our midnight chat, and I swear she was letting me in – just a little.
She’d let me refill her water bottle, even accepted the cup of tea I made from the camp stove.
After catching up on what we’d missed – like the farm and Lydia losing her job – it felt as if we’d struck a quiet understanding of why we were both out here.
But that made it even harder to watch the slight limp from the blisters I knew were on her left ankle. I grimaced at the rub of her shoulders and imagined the red skin underneath. I gritted my teeth when she gave a bright smile to Mandy, who asked after her ankle.
I finally snapped when Lydia offered to hold Amy’s pack as we ascended Bleaklow Head, passing World War II aircraft wreckage sites Mandy has a Wikipedia-like knowledge of.
‘I’ll take it,’ I said, offering my palm to Amy. The three of us stopped as the rest of the group walked ahead up the hill. Peggy turned around, searching for me, then cantered back to where we stood, and I gave her a little pat.
Lydia’s face was like stone. Gone was the woman who had smiled at the idea of pumpkin patches and Christmas trees last night.
We had both shared a moment last night under the star-lit sky, but she avoided my gaze this morning.
God, she’d looked so beautiful, the light of the moon hitting the side of her face, giving me just a glimpse of her blue eyes and painting her blonde hair silver.
‘It’s fine, I can handle it,’ Lydia said, her jaw set, her eyes flashing.
Oh, I’m in trouble. Good.
‘Oh, I don’t want to make a fuss.’ Amy’s face turned pink. ‘I can do it, just sometimes I get a bit tired up the hills. Silly, I know. It was my fault for packing so much.’ Amy rolled her eyes. ‘I never pack light.’
‘You two have that in common.’ I raised an eyebrow at Lydia.
‘Amy, you don’t have to explain.’ Lydia shot me a death glare. ‘I can carry it.’
I knew from Lydia that Amy had some lingering fatigue from her cancer treatment as a kid.
I overheard Mandy chatting to her, saying she could skip out a day if the fatigue hit.
But I knew she never held back from training hard with Lydia too.
Lydia’s Instagram posts detailed Amy’s journey, a story of her milestones, despite her challenges with fatigue.
I admired her for it. I knew Lydia did too.
That’s why Lydia would sacrifice her short-term pain for Amy.
She knew Amy was perfectly capable, but needed support now and then.
‘Amy, why don’t I take the heavier stuff from your backpack?
’ I smiled, trying to put her at ease. I kept my voice low enough that the other members of the group didn’t look over.
I didn’t want to embarrass her. ‘That way you can keep your pack on. I know how much you like a challenge.’ I lean in, a little conspiratorial, a little cheeky.
‘I’ve seen Lydia’s Instagram. You could probably bench-press me if you fancied. ’
Amy went a little pink. ‘No – I couldn’t.’
‘Trust me, you could.’
Amy lit up. ‘Did you hear that, Lydia?’
‘Yes,’ said Lydia, her voice flat. I turn to see Lydia’s arms crossed, her eyes shifting between Amy and me. ‘And I’m not surprised. Ren has never been one to commit to training.’
‘Maybe I just need to commit to a good trainer.’ I leaned towards Lydia to whisper, ‘Put me in, Coach.’
‘Don’t call me Coach.’
‘Why?’ I grinned.
A beautiful blush was creeping up Lydia’s neck. I was throwing her off. So I used that opportunity to seal the deal.
‘What’s the heaviest thing in your bag, Amy?’
I threw my bag down, clipping it open.
‘Are you sure?’ Amy’s eyes shifted between Lydia and me, as if she were worried there was some underlying tension she was unaware of.
‘Amy, come on.’ I gestured around. ‘It’s the least I can do for crashing this trip. Right, Lydia? You were fine with putting me to work the other night.’
I’m not ashamed to say I added a flirty edge to my voice.
It’s got me out of more than one scrape in my life – from a business-class upgrade to weaselling my way out of a parking ticket.
Liam always hated the way I did it. He said consequences bounced off me.
Like it wasn’t a skill in itself to be bold enough to try.
Don’t ask, don’t get, Mum used to say.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded to Amy.
‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ Amy said, a little dazed. I took some of her items and, by the time she put her backpack back on her shoulders, she sighed with relief.
‘Thanks, Ren.’ Amy smiled. ‘That’s much better now.’
‘It’s nothing.’ I smiled, my eyes on Lydia. ‘Maybe I need to go up a weight, Coach.’
Lydia rolled her eyes, but I knew I’d made her smile. Even internally.
Amy made her way back to the group, moving faster than before. Peggy followed her, cantering to rejoin the group.
‘Why did you do that? Take her stuff?’
My eyes shift to Lydia’s ankle. ‘You’re in pain. Your boots are rubbing, and so are the straps on your backpack. You were going to make it worse carrying both of those packs.’
Lydia raised her chin. ‘I could have done it.’
‘Of course you could.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘But would you push your clients through injuries?’
Her silence was a quiet victory I refused to rub in her face. I would have done it years ago, but we weren’t there yet.
‘It’s pretty simple, Lyds,’ I said quietly. ‘I don’t like seeing you in pain. And if I can do something to avoid that, then I will.’ Her head snapped up, eyes locking on mine, searching. Maybe to see if I was joking, maybe for a way to explain away my words. But I didn’t give her one.
I saw the exact moment she absorbed my words. Something in her softened, just for a second, before she blinked it away.
She swallowed, then nodded. ‘Okay.’
We walked silently for a few beats before she muttered, almost too quietly, ‘Thank you.’
My chest tightened, expanding with something warm and insistent.
‘No problem.’
‘Right, if everyone wants to stop here for a second.’ Mandy brought everyone to a halt.
‘There is a time-honoured tradition on these trips of doing a little race up the last of the hill, up to the summit of Bleaklow. Now, anyone too tired can walk with me, but I suspect we have some people ready for a challenge.’ Her eyes shifted to Lydia, and I huffed a laugh until her eyes landed on me too.
‘This path here,’ Mandy gestured to the grassy path littered with stones, ‘leads to the peak. First to the top wins first shower at the campsite.’
My eyes flickered to Lydia, who was biting her lip in a way I know is assessing her likelihood of winning, weighing up the effort and reward.
I knew she had decided to go ahead when her eyes flicked to me, her natural opponent since she was six.
Lydia never had any siblings to fight against, to beat, to give her the first taste of victory.
And Liam had been too old and weary after losing Mum for games by the time I’d been ready to compete.
So it was Lydia and me. And I loved it. We’d compete over the last slice of pizza, or who could run to the end of the garden the fastest or who could down the pints the quickest. I usually lost, even when I actually wanted the prize, but I was soothed by the glorious look on Lydia’s face – flushed and victorious.
But she was injured.
‘Lydia,’ I warned. ‘Your blisters.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Lydia blurted out, then faced me with a challenge in her eyes. God, I missed that look.
Fine. If she was going to run, I was going to run with her. At least I’d be on hand to help if she made her blisters worse.
‘Me too,’ I added, and her eyes narrowed at the contented smile I knew drove her crazy.
Mutters through the group told us that there weren’t any other takers. It was just us and my chest roared. If I could see that beautiful blush on her face, I was going to win either way.
‘Okay. Looks like its Ren and Lydia for the last stretch, then we’ll follow up and see who wins.’ Mandy turned to us. ‘No sore losers.’
I whistled. ‘In that case, Lydia will have to drop out.’
‘Excuse me!’
‘Come on. You know you’re the biggest sore loser, Lyds.’
‘Am not!’
‘You stomped on my foot after I won that hundred-metre race at school.’
‘Because you cheated! You started early and moved into my lane.’
I held up my hands. ‘It wasn’t my fault you weren’t ready.’
‘You liar. You just had the teacher wrapped around your finger!’
We were breathless, throwing accusations back and forth, a barely suppressed smile on my face, a blush on her cheeks, when we turned to find the group staring at us, in various states of shock and fascination.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Gen muttered loudly to Amy. ‘They could be more subtle.’
‘Let’s get this over with.’ Lydia rolled her shoulders.
I put Peggy’s lead on to keep her from running after us, and thanked Amy, who offered to watch her.
I shot Lydia a grin as she rolled her shoulders, earning a droll look that clearly said, you’re an idiot. Mandy drew the line to start, and we immediately started bickering about whose foot was too far over it.
I was in heaven.
Mandy shouted ‘Go!’ and I pelted down the path but Lydia, as usual, was too quick and pulled in front of me down the narrow path.
The trail opened up and I picked up the pace, my thighs burning and screaming as we climbed higher.
My chest begged me to stop. I hadn’t done a workout like this in months but I kept pushing on, just to keep up with the Lycra-clad woman in front of me, the tight material hugging her curves.
She always looked so invincible when she ran or shifted heavy weights.
I craved to watch her at work. Sometimes I’d just turn up under the guise of meeting her for a coffee break, just to watch her pick up dumbbells and move them over her head with ease, as her poor class groaned in front of her. She was superwoman.
I almost tripped over a tree root and muttered a filthy word that had Lydia glancing behind her, grinning.