Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3)

by Ali Dean

  “It’s all your doing, Pepper,” she tells me. “A lot of athletes don’t listen. They don’t rest properly and they end up fighting the same injury for months or years until it becomes a constant reoccurring issue. But yours look great.”

  I beam, openly pleased that my patience in this particular aspect of my life has paid off.

  “But don’t get carried away,” she warns sternly. “You will be starting out very slowly here. I’ll be emailing Coach Tom and your trainer my recommendations. It will start out with hardly any running and gradually build up.”

  “But what about Nationals?” I ask, my happiness dimming. We’ve discussed the qualifying process and the urgency of my recovery.

  “You’ll be able to go to the State meet, but you’ll just have to be comfortable without doing anything too rigorous before the competition,” she says like it’s obvious.

  She doesn’t understand. I have to be able to do at least a couple tough workouts in preparation. I’m shaking my head, but Jace places his hand on my knee.

  “Pep, you’ll be fine. You’re going to qualify. Just because you haven’t been running doesn’t mean you’re not fit as hell,” he says with such conviction that I’m inclined to believe him.

  Dr. Kennedy is nodding in agreement. “He’s right.”

  “I’ll do what I need to do,” I concede, acknowledging that Dr. Kennedy hasn’t let me down yet. I’ll be back out running tomorrow. Tomorrow! And whether my goals are lost or not, that is enough for me right now.

  Chapter 20

  The first run back is both incredible and incredibly depressing. I join the team for a two mile warm-up run and then I’m done for the day. While my teammates do hill sprint intervals, I sit in the training room icing my shins. Just as a precaution. They didn’t hurt at all during the jog and it made me realize just how unfamiliar running without pain had become. Running itself isn’t something that will ever feel unnatural to me, but I’d become accustomed over the summer to running on tired legs and then to running with shooting pain. It was liberating to run on fresh legs today.

  So, despite how short and uneventful the run was, a smile remains glued to my face when I return to my apartment after practice. I’m caught off guard when I find Gran applying lipstick by the hallway mirror.

  “Looking good, old lady.” She’s dolled up, wearing a polka-dotted dress, red Mary Janes, and a variety of bows in her hair. “You got a date or something?”

  I’m only half-kidding. Lately, Gran has been mentioning men more often than usual, and with a lot more interest. Gran has been on her own since Gramps passed away a long time ago, and the idea of her going on a date is disturbing, to say the least.

  So when she grins brightly at me and rocks back on her heels, I groan. “Seriously?”

  “His name is Elmer,” she tells me in a giddy voice that I’ve never heard from her before.

  “Like the glue?” I ask. But she ignores me.

  “We met at Shirley Dupont’s memorial service last week.” She clasps her hands and sighs dreamily. “He’s a real charmer.”

  “You met at a funeral? How old is this Elmer?”

  She frowns thoughtfully. “Elmer might not be around for too much longer. He has a walker, and his arthritis really slows him down. But he’s real lively in spirit!”

  Gran never ceases to amaze me. If she wants to go on a date with Elmer, I’m not going to stop her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I suggested bowling, but I’m not sure he’s got the physical stamina for it, so we’re meeting at his assisted living cafeteria.”

  “You’re going on a date at his nursing home?” I clarify.

  “Oh, yes. The buffet is wonderful. Lots of soft foods. Easy on the digestion.”

  “You’ve been there before?”

  Gran gives me a smug look. “Lulu and I sometimes sneak in when you’re not around for dinner.” And then she cups her mouth like she’s telling me a secret, and loud-whispers, “To check out the men.”

  This is too much. Even for Gran.

  “Should I be concerned about you two?” Lulu and Gran on the prowl for men in nursing homes is probably trouble in the making.

  “Oh no, dear. Those men couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “The men aren’t who I’m concerned about, Gran, and you know it.”

  She winks and gives me a brief kiss. “Sorry I’ll miss dinner. There’s lasagna in the oven for you.”

  Shaking my head as Gran bustles out the door, I eagerly eat some of the lasagna before saving the remainder in the fridge. It hasn’t been easy keeping Gran in the dark about what happened to me at Alberto’s. Gran usually knows about everything important that happens in my life. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that some things she’s better off not knowing. In this instance, she’ll only worry, and that won’t make anyone happy.

  It’s amazing that I’m still feeling the high from my measly two-mile run as I bike to Jace’s dorm room later that night. It’s dark out and I have a helmet and a bike light now, but the unease hasn’t entirely gone away. It’s been long enough that I’m starting to think maybe the drugging was random or a mistake. But deep down, something tells me to keep watching my back.

  The thrill of running again helps me let my guard down as I turn onto Jace’s street. With the anticipation of seeing him, I’m entirely oblivious to the car behind me until the roar of the engine is so loud it’s almost on top of me. But it’s too late to steer away. I’m rammed from behind and catapulted off my bike. The world spins when my body is launched into the air, over the handlebars, and onto the pavement. Foolishly attempting to break my fall, a loud snap accompanies excruciating pain in my wrist as my body crashes with a force so strong the wind is knocked out of me.

  The world swirls, flashing from black to color. The shock keeps me blinking and gasping for several minutes before the pain in my wrist brings me back. A strange cry leaves my lips as I reach for it and curl up in a ball, rocking back and forth. This is it. The attack I knew was coming. Through the haze of pain I realize I need to look around me. The sound of squealing tires forces me to raise my head, and I fight nausea as I catch the tail lights of a white SUV speeding away.

  A loud scream of frustration tears out of me and I can hardly believe the noise is from me. Another attack. And still no answers. Only that the person drives a white SUV. The hot tears streaming down my face aren’t just from the pain, but from the utter sense of helplessness. Whoever did this is crazy.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I begin to raise myself to my feet. My wrist is throbbing and the rest of my body aches from the impact. The realization that I may not be able to keep running hits me, and the force of that pain sends me right back to my knees. No. The pain at the thought that I might be out for the season, for real this time, goes straight to my core. My stomach and my heart feel like they are being ripped right out of me. But I grit my teeth and bite back a new round of tears that threaten.

  Whoever did this to me will not have the satisfaction of ruining my dreams. I don’t care what the doctors say. I was patient for five weeks. I did everything I was supposed to do. My shins are better. No matter how many cuts and bruises are on my body, I’m running at the State meet next Saturday.

  Headlights turn onto the street, and as they race toward me, panic surges through me. I’m in the middle of the road. My body freezes as the car gets closer, and I simply cannot leap into action. This is it. I’m going to be obliterated. The thought hits me, but it’s like it’s happening to someone else. It doesn’t feel real. None of what is happening or just happened seems real.

  The car screeches to a stop in front of my bike and the driver and passenger hop out. Two guys in baseball caps and workout clothes race toward me. As one crouches in front of me, I blink in shock. That can’t be Clayton Dennison. Why is he always here when something happens? His face is white, reflecting my own shock. He shouts something to the other guy, but I’m not listening. A hysterical sound rips out
of me. It’s a mix of laughter and a sob.

  Clayton is looking around frantically and asking me questions but I just keep shaking my head. His voice is like a buzzing sound in my head. Stars dance in my vision. The thought that this is not real hits me again. And then strong hands are lifting me and I smell pine and clean boy. My vision begins to clear and I burrow into Jace. A dull buzzing continues to follow me as he places me in a vehicle and drives to the hospital. I’m vaguely aware that Clayton and his friend are behind us as Jace talks to the front desk. I’m still in his arms. Why is he carrying me?

  “Why are you carrying me?” I ask, and the buzzing begins to fade.

  Jace’s tense clutch around me eases a bit and he watches me as he slowly lowers me to my feet. He holds me steady and brings his forehead to mine, ignoring the curious receptionist and the others in the waiting room.

  His eyes tighten and the pain in his eyes sends a renewed jolt through me. “You were in shock, I think,” he chokes out. It almost looks like he’s going to break down, right here with an audience, but he pulls himself together.

  A police officer approaches us. “Good evening,” he says, nodding formally at us, and we break apart to look at him.

  “These young men here have informed me that they found you on the road and it appeared you’d been hit by a car,” the officer states.

  Clayton and his friend stand off to the side with grim expressions.

  I simply nod in acknowledgement.

  “I’d like to ask you what happened as soon as possible, while it’s still fresh in your mind. May I speak with you while you wait to see a doctor?”

  Jace swings his head to the receptionist. “Will there be a long wait?” he asks in a dark tone that I can only construe as mildly threatening. Jace can be a little scary when he wants to be.

  “No, Mr. Wilder. Only a few minutes.” The receptionist knows who Jace is, and I’m not all that surprised. She must be a football fan.

  “She was in shock, officer,” Jace explains, and I’m grateful he’s taking charge right now. I can’t even process that this is all really happening. “But I do think she needs to fill you in on what happened.” Jace gives me a knowing nod. “On everything that’s happened,” he adds.

  My eyes widen in realization. He thinks I should tell the officer about the drugging and the flowers. And what else? Oh, the same white SUV (I think) that followed me the other night. It all floods at me, and I realize it is more than time to disclose what has been going on. Why did I wait so long, anyway? Right, because there simply wasn’t enough information to get anywhere, and I didn’t want any publicity.

  I gulp. Will this be public? Somehow, word about me passing out on the recruit trip never got out. I’m not sure things will stay that way now. With Clayton Dennison and Jace Wilder both in the waiting room of the Brockton ER, news is bound to travel. Fast.

  The officer brings me to a secluded hallway and asks me to recall every detail before and after I was hit. I do. And then I tell him about the white SUV that I thought was following me weeks ago. The incident at Alberto’s. The flower delivery. The officer is scribbling notes furiously, and he’s unable to keep an alarmed expression from his features as I continue to speak.

  Jace pops his head in to tell me they are ready to see me, and the officer nods. Expecting Jace to join me, I take his hand, but the officer calls Jace aside. “I need to ask you some questions as well, Mr. Wilder.” Jace nods and kisses me on the cheek.

  “I’ll be waiting right here for you,” he murmurs.

  I can feel eyes on me as I walk through the waiting room to the nurse, who greets me, “Pepper Jones?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “Come on back.”

  Twenty minutes later I’m sitting in front of a doctor who is pointing to an x-ray of my wrist. It seems like yesterday… oh, it was yesterday… that I was in another doctor’s office looking at x-rays. It’s broken. The timing couldn’t be worse. But maybe that’s the point. Who did this?

  My dejection must be evident when I return to the waiting room, because Jace leaps from his seat to be at my side. Gran is there too, and I wonder how much Jace has told her. Clayton and his friend have left, and I know at some point I will have to thank them.

  Until tonight, I remained suspicious of Clayton Dennison. I never thanked him for helping me at Alberto’s because in my mind, he was a prime suspect. But it sure doesn’t seem like he is anymore. Jace will hate being indebted to Clayton. But that’s the least of our worries right now.

  I hold up my wrist, showing him the cast. “Broken,” I tell him.

  “Can you still run?” he asks. I love that it’s his first question. It was my first question to the doctor too. And despite everything that has happened, I find myself grinning stupidly.

  “Yes. I can still run.”

  Gran has jumped up from her seat too, and at this news she breaks into a little boogie. The receptionist claps and the two others in the waiting room smile in amusement. As long as I can still run, nothing else really matters.

  Cringing, I admit, “The doctor recommended waiting until my body healed. I’m pretty bruised,” I admit. Jace’s eyes darken in anger. “But I grilled him and he relented and said that technically, it wouldn’t do any serious damage to run with bruising, it just might not be very comfortable.”

  Jace raises his eyebrows, unconvinced by this reasoning.

  “I can handle bruises, Jace.”

  He doesn’t argue, knowing now is not the time. I’m putting on my fiercest, most determined look, and I’m prepared to fight anyone who tries to talk me out of running.

  “You’re a tough girl. You can take it.” The emotion in his voice melts me. And even though Gran is watching, he tugs me to him for a kiss. A serious one. His tongue caresses mine, and all I want is for him to take me away.

  Gran must know what I’m thinking. “Pepper,” she interrupts us. “Where do you want to go tonight?”

  Her understanding means more to me than I can say. Jace isn’t just a boyfriend. He’s my family. So is Gran. But I need Jace tonight. And Gran’s acceptance of that fact warms me. She loves Jace too, and she knows he’ll take care of me.

  Jace is waiting patiently for me answer. “I’ll stay with Jace tonight,” I say.

  His relief is evident and Gran nods before hugging us both and heading out. She’s already taken all the medical forms from me and I’m sure will head straight to the store in the morning to get everything I need for my wrist.

  “Did you tell her?” I ask Jace.

  “Not everything. That’s for you to do,” he says.

  “I kind of wish you had already. I’m not looking forward to breaking the news to her.” She’ll be devastated someone is after me and terrified as well. I wonder if she’ll even let me continue to go on campus.

  “Let’s talk about it all tomorrow. Tonight, we’re going to Shadow Lane.”

  I don’t realize how tense I am about returning to campus until he says this, and I’m filled with relief.

  He takes my hand and leads me to the parking lot. “You’re having a bubble bath and a glass of wine.”

  Something about the way Jace says bubble makes me giggle. “Does the Wilder household even have bubbles for a bath?” I ask skeptically.

  He scoffs. “We’ve got what we need.”

  “And after the bath?” I wonder out loud. A different kind of tingle takes ahold of me now. A delicious one.

  He shoots me a dark glare before opening my door and helping me in. “Bed. Lots of sleep. You aren’t going to classes in the morning. And neither am I.”

  “But Jace, you can’t skip class,” I protest, ignoring the other part of his statement for the moment. It’s important that he remain in good standing with his courses.

  “This incident is enough to warrant a valid absence. And if it’s not, fuck it. We’re staying in bed tomorrow morning.”

  When he tucks me in later that night and I’m snuggled close to his warm, firm
body, I feel safe and protected. But as I drift off, it dawns on me that in all likelihood, the person driving that car tonight was after me because of what I mean to Jace. How can Jace make me feel safe if he is the reason I’m being attacked? I don’t know that for certain, but the irony of the situation presses on me as I burrow into Jace’s body. He can’t help who he is, what he means to people. But I can help what he means to me, if I want. My aching body distracts me from resolving the troublesome thought and I drift into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 21

  The possibility that I might not get to compete at State for a different reason – one entirely out of my control – doesn’t really hit me until Friday evening. Rollie’s parents hosted a pre-race pasta dinner the night before the District Championships. The girls’ team has to place first or second overall to qualify as a team. Only ten teams in Colorado qualify for State as a team; everyone else has to qualify individually. In the past, I’ve qualified individually and last year we also qualified as a team. Since I’m not racing and can’t qualify individually, the only way for me to get to State is if the whole team qualifies. I’d been so concerned with my own recovery, I hadn’t even thought that the team might not place first or second.

  I barely sleep the night before Districts and I’ve never been so nervous for a race in my life. One I’m not even competing in. I’ve been running a couple of miles each day all week, even with the cast on my wrist. My body certainly felt off the first couple of days after the accident, but my shins didn’t hurt, and my wrist didn’t really hold me back. It made me feel a little less streamlined and slightly off-balance, but I could still run. And so I did.

  I’ve warmed up with the team, and today I get to cool down with them too, but I’m relegated to the sideline for the race. Though there are plenty of parents, siblings, friends, and even some of my teammates who aren’t racing today either (each school can only race twelve people at this meet), I prefer to be alone for this. I’m wound tight with anticipation.