13. Now
Chapter 13
Now
“R emind me why the 5K is the morning after the Homecoming Game again?” I check behind me for bystanders before stretching my hamstrings. The street’s starting to fill with runners and observers for what’s sure to be a long 3.1 miles on a dreary mid-October day.
Mama shakes her head and points up to the greying sky. “At least it looks like the weather may hold out for a while.”
I shift into arm swings and take a few deep breaths.
Mama hands me a sixteen-ounce thermos. “Energy boost?”
I take a long swig of French vanilla coffee, steamed like Mama likes it. “Thanks.” The wind brushes my shoulder, and I shiver. “I guess I just regret agreeing to this one on …” I wince, looking at my smartwatch, “five hours of sleep and a Tennessee chill I’ve yet to miss.”
“It’s better than the humidity we’ve been seein’, and you’ve survived colder in New York,” she encourages me.
“That’s not the chill, I mean.”
Matilda jogs over in lime green spandex, her hair pulled back by a matching headband, and there’s a neon clipboard in her hand.
“Ah.” Mama takes a deep breath. “Matilda, hi.” Her voice drops when she greets her.
“Hi, Dailey family.” Matilda consults a piece of paper fastened on her board. “Weren’t three of you going to participate in the run today?”
Mama shakes her head.
Matilda double-checks her list. “I definitely have three.”
“Check again.” Mama lets a little ‘tude slip in.
My hand finds Mama’s, and my thumb starts massaging the top of her hand. “It’ll just be me, Matilda. Mama’s helping with refreshments, though.”
The whispers from the crowd must have started some time back, but my ears didn’t catch them right away. Now, the hiss from the crowd is deafening. “Maggie. Running. What’s she wearing?”
“What on God’s green earth?” Matilda says, her tone snide.
I bend to see Nana, all but huffing up the hill. Amy’s right beside her, holding her hand, helping her along. The closer Nana gets, the more blinding her outfit becomes. “You know, Matilda, your pre-race email did say dress to be seen.” I stifle my laughter.
“This is not what I meant.” She sulks away.
“What do you think?” Nana spins, showcasing her traffic cone orange sweatsuit.
When Nana goes, she goes all out.
Mama tilts her head. “It’s … something, Maggie.”
“Right? Exactly what I told her,” Amy adds. To her credit, she doesn’t cringe like I thought she would.
I study her black workout pants and sneakers. “Amy Park … are you running in this race?”
Amy shrugs. “It’s for the kids.”
My smirk is instant. Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe Sloane’s growing on her.
“How hard is this gonna be?” Amy looks around to see most of the town in their running gear, with one or two tying their shoes.
Mama raises her hands. “Don’t look at me; I’m here to give out the water.”
Amy ponders this. “You know, I didn’t realize my options. Maybe count me in for water, too. Runners need to stay hydrated, right?”
“You got all dressed up to run, Ame. You’re running,” I quip.
She sighs. “But I mean, how much would I be missed?”
“A lot.” Nana sinks into a lunge.
Amy crosses her arms.
Nana has spoken, and that’s the end of the conversation.
The three of us stroll to the balloon arch at the starting line, and Mama makes her way to the water station. We wish each other luck, but I know she’ll need it more than we will. While we’re busy running, Matilda will corner Mama at least half a dozen times with questions about Dad, how long I’ll be in town, how long until Jase and I are back together, and so on. I’d rather run an ultra-marathon with double Charlie horses than talk about any of that.
Right as I’m in the middle of thinking about not thinking about Jase, I see him come up the hill.
Nana mumbles a “damn” right behind me.
I hush her, but damn is right.
How does he look more in shape than when he was playing football and working out every day for hours on end?
“Maybe he won’t see us,” Amy whispers.
It’s like a jinx. The minute her words are out in the ether, his gaze finds mine. He smiles and sends a finger wave. I’m torn between wanting to burn down the ground he’s standing on or rush to hug him. Jase takes a few strides toward us, testing the waters, but I can’t move, react, or do anything but stare.
“It’s okay to blink, you know.” He grins.
I glance around, but I don’t know why— of course, people heard him.
“It’s also okay to not care about what people think, Kay.”
I inspect the gravel beneath my feet. I’ve never been able to ignore the people-pleaser tendencies in me, and he knows it. It stings more than I’d like to admit that he knows me like that, still.
Jase lowers his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Y…es,” I stammer. I kick a few pebbles loose.
“Jason,” Nana says. It’s only one word, but in her thick Tennessean accent and tough grandma ‘tude, it comes out like “Asshole.”
He ignores Nana’s tone and tips his hat toward her. “Mags, nice to see you.”
She snarls. “Hardly.”
“Oh good, there are three people here from your house, after all.” Matilda approaches and counts Amy, Nana, and I in the air: one-two-three.
In Sloane, your place in the race doesn’t matter until Matilda counts you in.
“You know …” Amy backs up. “I’m not really a runner. I was going to sub in for Len, but since Jase is here … maybe I can give out water instead.”
“Sure,” Jase says.
Matilda’s ever-present smile freezes in place. “Absolutely not. I mean, bless your heart, but everyone’s been accounted for, so we can’t make additional swaps. Jason is already running on his own.” She wiggles her brow. “Unless you are now a group of four?”
“No.” My voice is firm.
“All right.” Matilda claps her prim and proper hands. “It’s settled.” She takes out three bibs and a handful of safety pins out of her pocket and hands them to me. “I trust you can divvy these out, Katherine.”
“It’s Kate,” I call after her.
She’s already walking away and waves her hand in dismissal.
Amy taps me on the shoulder. “You know I hate to agree with Matilda, but I can see her point; you two do look matchy .” She wiggles her fingers toward Jase and me.
I rebut it. “So do you and I.”
Amy’s eyebrow arches. I glance over at Jase’s outfit, which is entirely black, from his lace-less sneakers to his spandex to his zip-up runner’s jacket.
It is like my outfit, sub the grey race T-shirt instead of the jacket. “Ugh,” I sigh.
Amy purses her lips together. “Sorry.”
Jase perks up. “For what?”
“Nothing. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” My question comes out a little snarkier than I mean it.
His lips break out into a sly smile. “If I didn’t know any better, Kay, I’d say you want me to be here.”
“I don’t,” I spit out.
Jase moves his hand to his mouth, trying to laugh discreetly.
“It’s not funny.” I give his shoulder a small hit from the back of my hand.
“Oh yes, it is.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I repeat.
He shrugs. “Nope, seems like no one in my family wants to run with me. I guess I’ll be running with you and yours.”
“Well, I don’t think my family wants to run with you, either.”
When I turn around, the line moves up around us, and Amy and Nana are at the front of the line doing jumping jacks.
Jase’s breath is hot on my neck. “Looks like it’s just us.”
I put my hands on his chest. “And everyone else in this town.”
“I repeat, who cares?” He shifts his face down closer to mine.
The buzzer goes off, and I sprint to the start and down the trail.
“Kay.”
I don’t turn around. I keep running, focusing on my breathing. I see Nana’s bright orange suit as I pass and hear Amy yell, “Go, Kate!” I see Mama clap as I pass the first water station without stopping, and I see the skyline in the distance, lighting up as Nashville starts to welcome tourists for the weekend. Tourists like Nick.
Nick.
Oh my God, Nick is coming in today and will meet me at the finish line. I squint to read the time on my watch and feel my shoulders tense. It’ll be fine. Having the perfect man I’m talking to come see my mess of a life in the place it got set on fire will be fine. Just fine.
“Hey, slowpoke!” Jase passes me.
I exhale and pick up the pace. “You, son of a …”
“Language!” A woman on the sidelines covers her young daughter’s ears, and I wince and offer an apology as I jog by, but all I get is disappointing glares from other townspeople as they shake their heads.
Jase turns around and jogs backward. “If it helps anything, I don’t think what you said was bad … this town needs to grow up!” He shouts the last part over toward the crowd.
“I don’t understand why there’s a cheering section after all these years. Isn’t there something better these people could be doing with their lives?”
Jase laughs. “Unfortunately, because the tradition has been to run, help, or spectate—this is the day. Everyone will be here for a few hours, and they’ll all go to—”
“The diner,” I say, right as Jase says, “Firefly Lounge.”
“Oh?” My curiosity is piqued. “What happened to the diner anyhow?”
“You’re looking at it.” He fans himself with fake arrogance.
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you serving at a bar for a few years really tops Fran working at the diner every day and night for the last sixty years.”
“Fran passed away a few years ago,” he mumbles.
“She what? Sweet Fran, with the dimples and fifties outfit and skates she wore religiously every day of her life?”
“That’s the one.”
“I really liked her. I wonder why Mama didn’t tell me.”
Jase shrugs. “She probably didn’t want to bother you. She knows how busy you are in New York and how much coming home would be more stressful than not.”
“How do you know?” I stop in the middle of the trail and put my hand on my hip.
The next closest group of runners is still far behind us.
Jase stops and regulates his breathing. “Everyone knows you love your big, busy job in New York and hate being back. You hate seeing me and are avoiding your dad.”
I turn away. “That’s not true.” It’s not wrong , either. I have been falling into old habits since I’ve been back—my attitude’s been strong, my willingness to see family has been low, and my attraction to Jase has been unavoidable.
“Excuse us.” A few runners approach, and Jase steps closer to me to let them pass.
There’s a snap of a camera. I turn toward the onlookers, but after eyeing up the folks on the sidewalk, it could have come from anywhere. They’re all happy to send dirt to Matilda to make the column and get a finder’s fee if she decides to publish it.
I move my hand to my forehead. “This is too much.”
“Come on, let’s go. If we’re moving, it’s harder for them to capture something solid.” Jase sprints again.
I take off after him, but I hear another snap shortly after.
He curses under his breath. “Guess I was wrong.”
“Hey, it’s all for the kids, right?” I quicken my pace, trying to separate myself from Jase.
He takes it as a challenge, like when we were kids, and before I know it, he’s by my side again.
“We don’t have to go, you know.”
“Go where?” I look over my left shoulder at him.
“To Firefly. We could go somewhere else.”
“Jase …”
“I had fun the other night, Kay. It was like old times.”
“That’s the problem.” I try blinking away tears from my eyes.
“I know I fucked up, but I really want to talk about what happened …”
He slows, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of messing up my pace for the second time today.
“Unless you can take back what happened with Lindsay, we don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Kay,” he objects.
“Besides, I’ve moved on … and my boyfriend’s going to be touching down in Nash any minute.” I don’t stop, let him catch up, or explain. Boyfriend is a bit of a stretch, and the word feels foreign on my lips—but I can’t process that now. Not when Jase could catch up and call me on it. Not when the whole town could see. Instead, I keep running and feel a burst of energy moving my feet forward, propelling me step by step. Sure enough, Nick’s at the end arch, beaming and shouting my name. I run right for the finish line, the next chapter of my life, and straight into his strong arms. Without thinking, I jump up and wrap my legs around him.
He stumbles back, not expecting it, but recovers and smiles. “Hey there. Got your text about the run. Glad I didn’t miss you.”
“Kiss me,” I say back.
He does, but when Nick’s lips touch mine and pull me in, I’m not thinking about him, half of Sloane, or Nana howling from a distance. I’m thinking about the one person I don’t want to think about, remembering my legs wrapped around him by that old magnolia tree. I’m wishing it was his arms holding me tight, like he said they always would, when he promised forever.
As I try to kiss the pain away, Nick holds me firmly and kisses me gently. It’s like he knows I’m broken and holds me anyway.