Chapter 17 Mile Seventeen #2
The way “this won’t be our last race” thrums within me drowns out the chaotic cacophony around us.
Today is our first race. We have our second 10K in the spring and the half marathon in the summer before I transition to train with Anker.
Something in the way he says it promises more than just those, or it may be the story I’m telling myself.
I can’t ignore the worry nipping inside me that I may be projecting meaning on something that is just a gift from a thoughtful man
Just enjoy the moment. I swallow those worries, choosing to deal with them during my next Dr. Nor session.
“This is so sweet. Thank you.” I pull the shirt out of the bag and swipe my fingers over the tactile letters reading Blind Queen.
“Thought it was fitting, since I’m your service human,” he says, a wry expression plays in his tease.
“Thank you, my dear subject. Your queen approves,” I hum, channeling my best impression of Kayla’s posh English accent.
“Excellent accent, Jensen,” Miles drawls from nearby, causing me to turn towards his voice.
My head tilts. “Miles? What are you doing here?”
“Kayla mentioned you were racing today, so I thought I would come by to cheer you on. That’s what friends do after all.”
It is something friends do. I’m just shocked Miles is that type of friend. Besides a few chats at the coffee shop on campus and the one time he’d tagged along with Kayla for lunch with me and Catherine, our interactions have been minimal since we agreed to be just friends.
“Didn’t realize friends bring other friends red roses,” Garrett mutters.
“This friend does.” Miles’s retort is snide. “These are for you, luv.” He leans in, pressing a peck to my cheek before handing me a bouquet.
“Thanks.” I bring them up to my nose, inhaling deeply to capture their sweet perfume. “This is lovely.”
“You really are the queen with men just coming to pay tribute. I’m a little jealous.” Anker tips his head toward Garrett. “In five years of friendship, you’ve never brought me flowers before a race.”
“Flowers are impractical,” Garrett grumbles.
“Excuse me?” Miles steps back, pivoting toward Garrett.
“She can’t run with those.”
“I’m aware.” Hands on hips, Miles’s tone is icy.
“Like two bucks.” Anker’s low mutter is barely audible.
If he weren’t right next to me, I likely wouldn’t have heard it. As much as I want to protest, this is exactly what this is like. Garrett and Miles are squared off like gunslingers. Each dig is a verbal bullet aimed at the other.
“Flowers are great, but typically a finish line thing.” Anker’s interjection is good-humored.
“Indeed.” Miles chuckles, taking the bouquet back. “Just wanted to wish you luck. I’ll hold on to these for you at the finish line.”
“Thank you. It really was sweet,” I say.
“On that note…” A nervous laugh falls out of Anker. “I’ll take your cane and the tributes your adoring subjects have bestowed on you and go meet Kayla and Catherine at the finish line.”
“You’re going to smash this race, and then after we’ll celebrate you like the proper queen you appear to be.” Miles gives me a side hug before turning to leave with my brother.
“You’re talking to literary fuckboy again?” Garrett says, his jaw clenched.
“We’re just friends.” I turn to face him, tipping my head up to take him in.
The brim of his hat shadows his face, but I know a firm line anchors his mouth. “Does he know that?”
“I’ve told him as much.”
“He wants more.” He gestures in the direction that I suspect Miles walked off to.
“Well, I don’t... Not from him.”
The man I want more from, I am too chicken shit to ask.
Fear holds me back from just saying it to Garrett, because what if I’m wrong?
What if he doesn’t want me? What if he does, but won’t let himself?
Somehow, I’m here again with feelings for someone I shouldn’t have feelings for.
Someone who, if they do have feelings for me, isn’t ready to admit them.
Someone who, despite how much I don’t want to be that woman anymore, I’d wait for.
That I’d break my own heart for. I’ll have lots to discuss during this week’s session with Dr. Nor.
Cocking one eyebrow, I cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to talk about Miles or your disapproval of my friendship with him. What I want to do is focus on the task at hand. We have a race to run. So, do you want to lecture me about Miles or run with me?”
“Jensen, I—”
“Turnip,” I huff out.
He tips his head back, releases a hard breath, and then looks at me. “Fine… Let’s run.”
“Fine.” I take his arm for him to lead me to the start line.
Now is not the time to deal with this. My head needs to be in this race, not thinking about either of these men.
Not Miles with his definitely “more than friends” flowers, or Garrett, whose every action twists me into a knotted up ball of confusion about his feelings, and my own.
One moment, I think we can just be friends.
The next moment, the pull for more is so strong that I’m scared I’ll break if I keep holding myself back from it—from him.
It’s why I stopped having him drive me home. The line is getting blurred. I know that, but the thought of a Garrett-free existence guts me.
Ugh… I’m so fucked.
“I overstepped…” he says as we move through the crowd. “I am sorry. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“Me neither.” I squeeze his bicep. “Running together is about trust, and you’ve gotta trust me to make the right choices to keep myself safe. If you don’t, this will never work.”
He stops, twisting to face me. “I do trust you.”
“And I trust you. Forget about Miles. Forget about everything else. There’s just us and this race.” I hit him with what I hope is a soft smile.
This is where my focus needs to be. Not on Miles.
Not on my feelings for Garrett. Just on this moment.
It may be my typical Jensen-self of waiting for things, but I can wait to deal with all this tomorrow.
Today is my first—hopefully—victory lap on this journey.
I just want to sink into that. The rest is for tomorrow’s Jensen to deal with.
He nods. “Just us, and the race.”
Positioned at the back of the cluster of readying runners, I unravel the rope, handing him one end, and begin to wrap the other end around my hand.
Anxiety buzzes in my veins with each circle of the rope around my hand.
This is happening. I’m doing this. It’s not my first time running, but this one is important.
The time I ran with Anker was about making my brother happy. This time, it’s about me. Even if I agreed to start this to help my brother, I want to prove that I can push past the things I thought I couldn’t do, including the things I’ve always done.
“You ready?” Garrett’s steady voice pulls my attention.
“Are you?” Brow furrowed, I tip my head up to him.
“It’s okay to be nervous.” He places his untethered hand on my upper arm.
“I’m not… I’m… I just don’t want to…” I look down at the bright pink rope wrapped around my gloved hand and back up. “The last time I did this, it didn’t mean anything. And I…. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Every instance of embarrassment in my life whispers in the cool morning air.
The time I tripped up the riser in high school and fell during a school concert.
Crying in the girls’ bathroom stall after Everett told me kissing me was just a bet.
Knocking over Miles’s drink at Harkey’s.
Any bit of confidence I had is deflating with each announcement over the PA system for runners to proceed to the starting line.
“I’m nervous, too.”
My head tilts. “How? You’ve run other races. This is child’s play for you.”
“As you said, this time is different… This matters.” He swallows thickly. “You’re depending on me. I don’t want to let you down.” He soothes his fingers against my forearm.
Even through my shirt’s thin fabric, I feel each sweet caress of his fingertips.
It unspools the anxious knot inside me. It’s both good and bad anxiety.
The good that comes with excitement, and the bad that accompanies worry.
A worry I know we share. He doesn’t want to fail me, and I don’t want to fail him. Just as I don’t want to fail myself.
Knowing that we both are anxious strangely eases my worry. I’m not alone in this feeling, and neither is he.
For so long, Garrett has run solo. I forget what this might be like for him. For this man to open himself up to the possibility of letting someone down. The memory of his pained admission about failing Val aches in my chest.
“It’s not just me. We’re depending on each other.” I tug on the rope that tethers us to one another. “You run, I run. You fall, I fall.”
“Did you just quote Titanic?” The deep laugh that belts out of him hits me like I’ve drunk a glass of full-bodied red wine, leaving me warm and relaxed.
“How dare you! I would never!” I pop my hip. “I am paraphrasing at best.”
The rich rumble vibrating from him soothes every frazzled nerve in me.
“I’m nervous too, but we’ve got this.” I move my free hand to touch his forearm, sliding it down to thread our untethered hands.
“We’ve got this.”
“And if we don’t, we’ll just keep working until we do.”
“Okay.” He presses our joined hands to his chest.
A voice booms from the PA system. “Runners, take your mark.”
With one last squeeze of our joined hands, we release and ready ourselves.
Excitement ripples through the crowd like crashing waves.
The chaotic soundtrack of noise makers, cowbells, and cheers drowns out the thud of my pulse.
I can barely hear the bullhorn’s siren as it signals the participants to start.
I certainly can’t hear Garrett’s call out, but the three tugs he does on the rope tell me it’s time to move.