Ryan should be here with her. If she hadn’t been so prideful, she would have called him and asked him to drive behind her while she ran. He had offered to still train her. But she couldn’t call him. Not after seeing the anger and hurt in his eyes when she had said those things to him. She couldn’t stand the thought of him throwing it back in her face. But he wouldn’t do that, would he? He was the kindest man she had ever met. Softhearted, silly at times, gregarious, dependable. He would have been here in an instant. But she would have to accept the responsibility for her aching heart, her sleepless nights, and her dead-tired legs that had barely kept her upright the past two days. She would have to look at herself in the mirror and say she had been the fool. Her pride was the last thing she had left. Everything else around her had fallen into tiny pieces—some with edges so sharp, they cut. And she was tired of bleeding. She needed to call in reinforcements—someone who had promised to help her pick up the pieces—no matter how much it stung.
She slowed to a shuffle jog after almost tripping over a small piece of wood. Damn, she hadn’t seen it in time. Pulling her cell phone out of her hip pocket, she punched in Ryan’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “Are you all right?” His firm voice melted her insides, shattering the icicles around her heart.
“Yeah.” She slowed to a walk. “But I could use your help.”
“Are you wearing a yellow vest and wind pants with reflective stripes?”
“Yeah, how’d you—”
Headlights flickered from a mile in front of her then turned off and on again in greeting. “I’m here, now. What do you need?”
“Lights.” She waved at him as he slowly closed the distance. “And you. I need...you.”
His truck stopped on the side of the road, the headlights almost killing her night vision, but she closed one eye and watched him race over to her. He pulled her into a tight hug, and she almost wept. “Courtney called me. I would have been here sooner, but I wasn’t sure which way you went.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Now, come on, let’s get you moving before you cool down too much, okay?”
“Good call. Stay behind me far enough so I can have some light farther out, but not so much it blinds me. Please?”
He gave her one final squeeze before releasing her. “Anything else?”
She turned her phone off, replaced it in her pocket, and strode toward the bright lights, one eye still squinched shut. “I’m sorry about all the things I said. I was wrong, and I panicked. Kiss me when this run is over?” A flash of uncertainty tore through her. What if he didn’t want her anymore?
His eyes darkened. “I will do more than kiss you when this run is over.” He kissed her. Hard. A furious, commanding ravaging of her mouth. “But first,” he said, lowering himself so she could see his warm, open gaze clearly. “You set the pace, okay? Tell me what you want, what you need. I’m here—for all of it.”
Hope and relief coursed through her. Ryan was talking about more than a twenty-mile jog in the dark. “I might get angry sometimes or say things to push you away.” She turned back to the brilliant lights of the truck.
“You’re not going to run me off, woman.” A smack to the back of her shorts and his low growl sent her tummy whirling. “Set the pace. I’m right behind you.”
Chapter Five
Race Day.
“Okay, this is just like any other day of running. Get the crowd, the gun, and the lights out of your mind, and focus on what you’re doing. One step in front of the other.”
“Right,” Shaylee said as she bent to adjust her shoe. She worked it a bit looser in the headlight of Ryan’s truck. Tying her shoes in the dark had become easier, but getting the perfect amount of tension, without being too much, was harder when compensating for how much her feet would expand over a hundred thirty-five miles of different terrain. She worked the lace undone, loosened her shoe a bit more, and then re-tied.
Okay, step three—done. Step one had been: Arrive on time at the race course. Step two: Sign in and pick up my pre-race registration packet. Now she just had to fidget and wait for the start. Her group—the first of two—began at nine p.m.
The bright-gold hue of the moon would help a bit, and there would be occasional lights along the way. But, for the most part, she had to rely on her support team—Ryan and Chase—to keep her on the road. And her feet.
She bit down on the sadness threatening to overtake her when she thought about her missing support person. The front passenger seat should have held Courtney. But it taunted her with her daughter’s absence. Yes, she had been the one to get Ryan in the middle of the night on Shay’s last long run. But it had been to help Shay, to keep her from getting hurt. Court still didn’t approve of her relationship with Ryan and was not coming to fill out her much-needed team… It stung. She tamped down the bitter feeling in her chest, reminding herself Court’s unfortunate yet realistic reaction wasn’t a reflection on herself. They would get past this. But, for now, she was on her own.
But that wasn’t true, either. She had the two men who meant the most to her in the world, in the driver’s seat and the rear seat, ready to hand her water bottles and snacks, and give her race information.
As much as it hurt her to go into the biggest event of her new life without her only daughter, she would. Because this wasn’t about Courtney. Nor Ryan, nor Chase. This was her moment. For once in her life, she was doing something so amazing, so big, and so utterly crazy that if she wrote it down, she would cry at the idea. She, the forty-three-year-old divorcee, dating an almost thirty-year-old, had two college age-children. Yeah, she was doing this. One hundred thirty-five miles. For no other reason than because she wanted to.
The announcer called everyone over to the starting line and explained the idea behind this awesome race and how it began many years earlier, thanked both the participants and the support crews, and gave everyone a tearful blessing before putting them on the line. This wasn’t the kind of race where you got down to a sprint position and tore out as fast as you could. You also didn’t worry about running a steady pace for the whole thing, like a marathon. A lot of people would fail, and most would end up walking. So the goal was to go at your own pace and ignore the other racers. You were in this race to compete with one person, yourself. And that was pretty damn cool when she thought about it.
“Break a leg. I mean, go get ’em,” Chase said, giving her the biggest hug he had in a long time.
“We’ll be with you, every step of the way.” Ryan gave her a quick kiss and an even longer hug, helping calm her pre-race jitters.
She strode over to stand at the back of the rag-tag group of seventy-eight other participants and waited for the gun to go off.
The loud shot rang out into the air, and nothing happened. Then, row by row, they started leisurely “attacking” the course, the sounds of feet on the rough pavement echoing around them. A few younger men and women shot out to the front as if the hounds of Hell chased them—they wouldn’t last long. Everyone else began their jog as if unburdened by the world. A lovely stroll in the park. A hundred-thirty-five-mile one.
Over the next twenty miles, Shaylee enjoyed the freedom found in the open stretch of highway. Things had thinned out, so there were not many people around her. She inched past a small group of men and women laughing and joking about what kind of alcohol they would have after they finished the race. They were from the Drinkers with a Running Problem group. She remembered their antics at the carbo-loading dinner the previous night. Then she would be by herself except for the dark truck always following close behind on the rightmost side of the road. Chase would hand her a water bottle or an energy pouch. Ryan would tell her how great she looked and to stay relaxed. A few of the more serious runners didn’t chat at all. It seemed like they didn’t even daydream like she sometimes did. She had read in Kirk Johnson’s book that he preferred not to zone out, because he might trip otherwise. But she needed this chance to let her
mind wander. Yeah, she might have a few trips and falters. No one could tell her what to do, or how to act, what was socially acceptable, what was not. She could think of whatever she wanted.
So she let her thoughts roam freely.
Her husband leaving her for the nineteen-year-old ex-best friend of Courtney’s. It was time to forgive him. Not for him. Not for his new girlfriend. Not even for her poor, hurting daughter. No. For herself. She chose not to let this energy hold her back anymore or bring her down. She might not be young and beautiful and have perky breasts like a nineteen-year-old. But she had the most important person in the world.
Myself.
She loved herself, and that was what mattered. So, whatever Roger decided to do with his life now became his decision—it didn’t have to weigh her down anymore. She was a free woman. A woman who could date a younger man, who could say no when something didn’t feel right. She could live her own life. Whether or not Ryan would choose to be a part of it after this race, this week, this month, even this year, she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t let it stop her from enjoying how she felt when with him. She might be in love with this man. But that was another step, right? Like an ultramarathon, you put one foot in front of the other, and kept moving forward.
She skidded on a small stone and tumbled down to her knees, missing scraping her face by inches. Ow.
The five-timer she’d met last night stopped next to her and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
The truck stopped beside her, and the door slammed as heavy feet hit the pavement. “Thanks, yeah. I’m okay.”
The other man gave her a thumbs-up and took off again on his slow-paced, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other run as Ryan knelt in front of her. “Are you hurt? Can you walk all right?” Concern showed in his eyes before he motioned for Chase who was already bringing the bandages and ointment for her skinned knees.
She sank against the front of the truck while both men mother-henned over her red-and-scraped knees. “Guys, it’s okay. It’s a little blood and skin. I’ll live.” She moved to get out on the course, but a strong set of arms pulled her back gently.
“This is my forte, remember?” Ryan set her on the bumper and raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to put some antibacterial ointment and bandages on your knees so we don’t have to worry about them getting infected later.”
She almost giggled at their stern expressions but kept her face straight. “Okay, okay. Bandage me up like a mummy. Just be quick about it, before my legs get too cooled down.”
“I’ll kiss it and make it better if you want.” A sly grin on his face, he gave her a kiss right above her “booboo” and made quick work of bandaging her up. “All right, you are cleared to go.”
“Thank you both.” She blew them a kiss and began a slow shuffle jog.
One step at a time. Sometimes you fall, but you get right back up and keep moving forward. Races and relationships had a lot in common.
~.~
She couldn’t take another step, and they all knew it. Only eighty miles in, and she was miserable. Shivering during the cold night temps, no matter how much she layered; her shoulders and face feeling the brunt of the full sun during the daytime; blisters on top of popped blisters on top of so many calluses; feet too swollen to fit comfortably in her shoes; torn, blackened toenails; raw, bloody heels and ankles; scraped knees; chapped lips; thirsty, hungry; then too full and couldn’t drink a drop if her life depended on it. Yeah, the past twenty miles had been gruesome. Her whole body ached. She couldn’t seem to get her temps regulated and shivered when a gust of sixty-degree wind touched her between her shoulder blades. Ryan had given her two IVs already. She had taken several quick naps during the hottest part of the day, like a lot of other racers. Her body was shutting down, and her mind held a close second. Even Chase, her strong-willed never-freak-out-about-anything son, had given her a wide-eyed look of panic when she had a very surreal daydream about her ex eight miles earlier. Both men assured her, her ex had not stepped onto the course and run with her for a mile while telling her about his sexcapades and asking her to return her alimony money since she had a new boyfriend.
“What do you want to do? How can we help?” Ryan massaged her calf during another rest break and then bandaged up another of her excruciatingly painful blisters.
She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out.
What did she want? She wanted to finish this race, dammit! She wanted to push herself further and harder than she ever had. She wanted Ryan to push her and not let her quit. “I don’t know. Let me think for a sec.”
“Mom,” Chase broke in, his jaw flexing. “You’re exhausted, a huge mess, and you could hurt yourself if you try to go any farther.” He turned to Ryan. “Tell her, man. She should stop before she gets hurt.”
“No.” Ryan’s quiet voice resonated through the air. “Sorry, but I disagree.” He pierced her with his strong, sure gaze. “The last twenty are in the coolest part of the day. It will be dark, and you chance tripping again, if you don’t watch where you’re going. You’ll need to slow down and walk for parts of it.”
“Would both of you stop telling me what to do?” Anger, fatigue, confusion, fear all combined into one huge outlet directed right at him. She wanted Ryan to push her, but she didn’t want him to take over. She needed to have some control over this, or she would succumb, and he knew it. She desperately longed for him to be the asshole jerk type who would grunt and tell her to get going and stop whining, but she also needed to know she could still do this on her own. “God. I’m sorry.” She winced when he dabbed a bit more ointment onto her feet. Then he bandaged them up, replaced her socks with new ones, and handed her her shoes.
“I could tell you what to do, try to strong-arm you into it. Some people need a tough-love kind of push. Ruth, my eight a.m., loves it.” His eyes bore straight into hers. “But I’ve never gotten that feeling from you. I think you want to push through this yourself.” He stood up and reached out to her. “We’re partners. We bring out the best in each other. I can suggest to you the best way to conquer this bad boy, but without your heart in it, it won’t matter. You have to want this for yourself.” He took her hand, kissed it gently, and gazed at her with such a look of love, she almost melted right there. “I know you can do this. You want it. Your body is going to ache. You’re going to have moments when you want to curl up into a little ball and sleep for the rest of the month. I won’t lie to you. This last twenty will be the most painful thing you’ve ever done in your life. But I believe you can do it, if you want it. So what’s it going to be? What can I do to help you through this? I’m not going to take your moment from you, I promise.”
She stood on shaky legs and kissed him back. “Just keep believing in me and push me. But let me push harder. Let me feel like I have at least the slightest bit of control in all of this.”
He walked her back out onto the road and tapped her hip before kissing her again. “You have all the control, beautiful woman. Keep going. We’ll be right behind you to catch you. But you need to fly on your own.”
And she flew.
Chapter Six
Ryan watched Shaylee stumble past another mile marker and winced when she stopped and bent over, her chest heaving, her lips chapped and cracked—they had already bled a few times, but he kept the Vaseline handy—the poor woman was miserable, and there was nothing they could do about it. He texted out their location.
Five miles to go. She’s fading.
Almost there. Found finish line and am working my way backward on bike. Tell her to hang on.
kk
He hoped she made it in time. It killed him to see Shaylee like this, and Chase was faring far worse. He had finally asked Chase to take over driving so the poor man could concentrate on maneuvering the truck instead of his mom. Which gave Ryan the terrible front row seat in a gruesome show where the woman he loved shuffle-jogged through agony. And neither of them could do anything but watch and be there to pick her up, feed her, hydrat
e her, or bandage her. This was killing him. But he knew he had to let her do this. On her own. Attacking her own destiny. He would catch her, be her safety net. But that was all she wanted and needed. He double-checked her heart rate on his watch. A little high, but not dangerously high. One man had been taken away by ambulance yesterday, when his blood pressure skyrocketed to 220 over 140.
That’s why everyone had a support team. To monitor each participant, and to make the most difficult race on the planet at least not life-threatening.
The numbers had dwindled over the past eight hours, racers dropping like flies. Some faded due to dehydration or fatigue. Others stopped after their bloody and blistered feet and exhausted legs gave out on them. But not his Shaylee. Yeah, dammit, his woman.
This determined woman who gave as good as she got; who always said what she wanted or needed; who worked past her fears of being judged and shunned for dating outside her age bracket; who asked for some things and respectfully demanded others… Yeah, this woman was going to make it through this race. She just didn’t realize it. She was giving up on herself, and to be perfectly honest, he would have stopped fifty miles ago. She was a much stronger person than he, and damn if it didn’t make him love her even more.
“Shay, can you walk to that crest?” He handed her an energy drink and pointed up the small incline four hundred meters out.
Her eyes widened, and she almost choked on her drink.
Racing Toward Love: A Second Chance Romance Page 5