Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. She wasn’t sure. She only knew that she was exactly where she wanted to be, running High Peaks with the best man in the world at her side.
As the night wore on, they talked. They laughed. They joked. Cain told crazy stories from his Army days. He talked about his hard-ass, old-school Polish father and about how much he missed his mom, who’d passed away years ago. He made more lewd comments, knowing her shocked laughter took her mind off her growing fatigue.
Hannah talked a little too, even admitting that she’d occupied her mind earlier that day by thinking about all the ways they’d gotten busy in the wilderness. That seemed to make him happy.
“See?” he said. “You’re as piggish as I am.”
“I am not!”
But she knew she was.
She saw Diana at some point—she couldn’t remember when—and Diana seemed happy that Hannah looked better than she had before.
Then, at one point, Cain called out to her.
“Where are you going, Grace?”
Hannah stopped, confused.
“Trail’s over here,” he said, pointing to the path that curved left.
She’d run right off the trail, hadn’t even noticed the trail marker pointing the other way. And it happened again later.
“Why am I getting lost?” she said. “It’s not like me. It didn’t happen last year…”
“Well, you’re tired. You’re more relaxed because you have someone looking out for you. And you’re in new territory. You didn’t run this part last year.”
Hannah slowed down, looking around. “We passed mile eighty?”
Cain laughed. “Yeah. Remember drinking some broth and them weighing you?”
“Shit.” Then she started to laugh. “Oh my God! I made it past mile eighty! That’s where we met! Well, not where we met, but where we officially met!”
“You mean where you threatened to kick me in the nuts with your good foot, and then cried on my shoulder?”
Hannah scoffed. “Oh, you loved it. And you were only nice to me because you were hoping to get laid.”
“Yup. And it worked.”
Hannah smacked Cain again, seeing the grin on his face.
On they ran, stumbling through the darkness in silence… until dawn came. That’s when Cain turned to her and spoke again.
“You realize you’re going to do this, right? You’re going to finish this thing.”
Hannah smiled, a flood of happiness soaring through her. She took in the sunrise, the chirping birds and the squirrels darting around and the warmth on her shoulders when the sun finally found them. It was another moment of magic, where her fatigue and soreness and pain and exhaustion ceased to exist.
After one last irritating hill that made Hannah grumble and curse, she and Cain ran the home stretch toward the finish line. She heard her friends cheering for her from the crowd. She waved at them, her fatigue completely forgotten, a crazy joy taking over when she crossed that finish line and the announcer called out her name.
Hannah slowed to a walk, holding Cain’s hand as someone placed a medal around her neck. Cain urged her out of the path of other finishers and took her aside, giving her a big kiss and hug.
And then, out of nowhere, Hannah was overcome. She let out a sob and the tears began to flow, and it was like a dam that broke after holding back too much water for a year. She sank to the grass and began to sob, and Cain gathered her in his arms and held her to him. She cried on his chest, crying for all of it—the long journey to recover from last year’s disappointment, her starting over and training again, enduring a hundred miles of pain and suffering, the support of all her friends, and Cain, who’d been there the whole time, setting her up for success and ensuring she achieved her dream.
She cried tears of relief and happiness and joy, more than she could handle, more than she ever thought she deserved. And Cain just held her like he understood it all.
“You alright?” he finally asked, when the crying subsided.
She nodded. She looked at him with wet eyes, wiping the snot that ran down her face. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
He gave her an amused look. “Yes, you could.”
She shook her head. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t have been this special or this amazing. You showed me what it was really about, and I finally got it because of you. The whole time, you were there. Even when you weren’t there, you were there, in my thoughts. And I realized, Cain, when I was on Spruce Pass… I love you. I love you so much! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Cain stared at her, blinking a couple of times, his eyes filled with emotion. But before anything more could be said, before Hannah could know whether she’d said the right thing or gone too far, her friends rushed over to hug and congratulate her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hannah quickly wiped her tears, standing up to greet her smiling friends, her legs and pretty much everything else already completely stiff. She hugged Summer first, who congratulated her.
“Thank you so much for doing this, again,” Hannah said, holding her tight, more tears in her eyes. “You’re the coolest friend I could ask for.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Summer said, her eyes shining. “You’re such an inspiration to me.”
“Well, I owe you, Summer. I owe you big time. And I take that seriously.”
Summer gave her a dismissive wave. She glanced behind her and saw Diana and Asher waiting, so she moved aside. Hannah took one look at the happy couple with their proud faces and adorable baby, and a fresh wave of tears streamed down her face. She hugged them, apologizing for her stench and her tears, telling them she loved them.
“I’m such a fucking mess,” she laughed. “I’m too tired to shut off my emotions, apparently.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetie,” Diana said.
“Yeah,” Asher added. “You should be emotional. You rocked it out there and never gave up, even when it got grim for a while. Cry all you want, because there will never be another moment like this.”
Hannah nodded as Asher’s words sank in. She glanced at Cain, who stood aside, his face unreadable, but his eyes showing a glint of pride.
“Did you see your time?” Asher asked her.
She shook her head. “Believe it or not, I stopped caring. As long as I finished under thirty.”
“Just over twenty-eight hours,” Cain said. “Well ahead of the goal.”
“Oh my God,” she said, a new wave of happiness washing over her. Twenty-eight hours! Suddenly, she felt her stomach rumble. “I’m starving. Anyone want breakfast? My treat.”
“Oh, now you want to eat,” Cain said. “Last night, I had to practically force-feed you and you got an attitude with me.”
Hannah pressed her lips together, knowing she was guilty. “I’m sorry.”
Cain laughed and put his arm around her, and the others laughed too.
Over brunch, everyone talked about the race, about Hannah’s ups and downs, about what it was like for them, waiting for hours in the rain and estimating when she would show, and how exciting it was when they saw her coming. Soon, Hannah began to feel self-conscious about everything still being all about her, so she steered them to other topics.
Like Asher’s races when he rode professionally. Summer’s rock climbing adventures. And Diana and Asher’s trip abroad with the baby. Hannah listened to it all, basking in her triumph and getting to share it with the man next to her, who’d made it ten times better than it ever would’ve been.
Cain listened too, taking interest in her friends’ stories but saying little himself. She knew he wasn’t a person who liked crowds, who preferred solitude or the company of one trusted person. She didn’t know how much of that was Cain’s nature, and how much was due to his difficult experiences in the military. Whatever it was, she was just grateful he was here, that he was willing to be part of all this.
She was grateful for all of them—that they coul
d share her race and that they were in her life. Teagan couldn’t be there, but she was there in spirit, monitoring Hannah’s splits on her phone while at her Special Guest table at Denver Comic Con. Then, as if Teagan could read her mind, she called, her pink hair lighting up Hannah’s phone for a video chat.
Hannah smiled into the phone. “Hey.”
“It’s been thirty hours but they haven’t reported your finish…” Teagan said cautiously, not knowing whether to cheer or show compassion.
“I made it.”
“Yay!” came the shout through the phone, and everyone smiled.
“Is that Teagan?” Diana cried.
“Is D with you?” Teagan cried.
“Everyone say hi to Teagan,” Hannah said, rotating the phone so the others could wave and say hello. After Summer greeted Teagan and Diana and Asher had Jesse wave to her, Hannah rotated the phone back to herself. “And this guy right here is my hero.” She aimed her phone at Cain, who said hello to Teagan before she took the phone back. “I’ll call you later, or tomorrow. Whenever I wake up.”
“Sounds good. Congrats, Hannah.”
After they hung up, Hannah managed to get down half of her breakfast but no more. As they left, she hugged her friends goodbye and thanked them one last time. Summer went to crash in her hotel room and Diana and her family went to go play for the day. Suddenly, a fatigue the size of Colorado hit her. It was time to crash.
As Cain drove them back to the hotel, the repercussions of the last thirty hours began to catch up with her. She was stiff all over. Her legs were dust. Her feet hurt from a blister or two. Her knees ached. She stank like all get-out and felt like her entire body was covered in dirt, salt, and crust. And she was tired, so tired that she was tempted to skip the shower and just lie down and sleep.
She reached out and put her hand on Cain’s. “Thank you, Grizzly. For all you did for me.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
Hannah jumped when she felt a hand on her. She looked over to find Cain looking at her from the driver’s seat. She looked around, confused.
They were at the hotel. She’d fallen asleep.
She grabbed her bag of gear and her finisher’s medal, and stepped out of Cain’s truck. She grimaced as she did, her body so stiff that moving felt like punishment.
Cain led them to their room, and Hannah dumped off her things and sat down on the bed. A bout of nausea hit her briefly and she lay down on the bed, her shoes still on.
“You’ll feel better if you take a shower and get the slime off you,” Cain said. “You’ll sleep better too.”
Hannah sighed, knowing Cain was right but not wanting to move from the comfort of the bed. She finally sat up and began peeling it all off: her dirty shoes, her damp and disgusting socks with spots of blood on them, her crusty shorts, top, and sports bra. She tossed it all into the corner and put her long hair into a bun before she turned on the shower, letting it get nice and hot.
The water burned the blisters on her feet and the abrasions on her leg and elbow. But other than that, that shower felt like heaven, the hot water melting the grime off her and soothing her aching muscles, and the steam comforting the body that had endured a hundred miles of pounding and twenty-eight hours of sun, rain, wind, and cold at high altitude.
Now, her lack of respect for her body in last year’s race was clearer than ever, and for the first time, she felt glad she hadn’t finished. If she had, she wouldn’t have learned what she did, wouldn’t have had the same experience.
Then she remembered her shower on the morning of the race, just over a day ago. How long ago it seemed. She recalled thinking that she would stand in this same shower again, regardless of how the race went, reflecting on her result one way or the other. Not only was she a triumphant finisher of the High Peaks 100, she’d had an epic experience that she could never have imagined last year. And all because of the big, quiet mountain man who probably lay on the bed right now, waiting for his shower or even resting from his own fatigue, the fatigue of someone who’d run forty miles and spent the last couple of days completely devoted to her. Without Cain, that race would never have been what it was.
Without Cain, she wouldn’t be who she was. Still Hannah, but a better version of her, one who understood what ultrarunning was all about. And who, for the first time, understood what love was.
She loved Cain. She had for a long time, possibly even before he’d redeployed, but she’d never had the guts to admit it. She couldn’t admit it to herself, much less to him. The old her felt too vulnerable admitting that to anyone… but the new her understood that love was a good thing, when you found the right person. Today, she’d told the truth. She’d spoken from her heart, without worrying about the consequences.
She’d never done that before. Not with anyone, not ever.
And it was about time.
Yet, as she stood under that hot stream of water, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that Cain hadn’t responded to what she’d said. Of course, her friends had shown up before he could say anything, and maybe Cain preferred a more appropriate time to return the gesture.
Assuming he felt the same way.
Did he? She had no way of knowing. Cain never talked about love or his past relationships, and he kept his true feelings about many things to himself. Some people wore their heart on their sleeve, but Cain wasn’t one of them.
Neither was she. Until High Peaks, she’d never considered her own feelings about the L word or whether it needed to be said. It had never come up in her previous relationships… not for her, anyway. She’d never let herself love anyone… or, more accurately, never got involved with anyone she could ever love.
Maybe it didn’t matter if Cain responded. He was in her life by choice, even after she’d cut him loose once. He’d been everything she could ask for. Yet, a tiny part of her knew that it did matter.
But she wouldn’t worry. She wouldn’t push. Cain did things in his own time. If he loved her, he would tell her when the time was right for him. She knew he cared about her, and someday he would say the words.
When she got out of the shower, Cain was fast asleep on the bed. She crawled in next to him and fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When they pulled up to her house Sunday evening, Hannah grimaced again as she got out of Cain’s truck, slung her bag over her shoulder, and climbed up her porch stairs feeling—and probably looking—like a 90-year-old woman.
They’d slept for hours before loading up and heading home. Hannah still felt stiff and tired, but her residual nausea was gone and she felt surprisingly good. After dumping off her stuff, Hannah turned to Cain and smiled.
“Fun weekend,” she quipped, making it sound like they’d merely taken a trip to the high country for fun.
Cain gave a half smile, but said nothing. He’d been quiet the whole way home, actually.
“You okay?” Hannah asked him. It wasn’t like Cain was much of a talker, and it wasn’t unusual for him to go long stretches without saying a word. But something made her ask, just in case.
He nodded. “Just tired. It’s been a while since I’ve run forty miles in the middle of the night.”
Hannah chuckled at that. “Thank you again. I owe you. And thanks for hanging with my friends.”
“Any time.”
Cain was still standing in her entryway area, instead of sitting down on the couch or rummaging through her liquor cabinet for the bourbon.
“You look like you’re about to leave. Do you need to get home?”
He nodded. “I’m on duty at five tomorrow.”
Hannah grimaced. “You didn’t take Monday off?”
He shook his head.
“What about dinner? I could whip something up for you before you go…”
He shook his head again. “I’m good.” He fiddled with his car keys. “I have a busy week ahead because I took the weekend off, so you may not see much of me for a few days. Is that alright?”
“
Of course. Just call me when you get caught up.”
Cain glanced at the door, hesitating. Then he came over and gave Hannah a quick kiss before he left.
Hannah stood there, watching the door and the empty entryway. Something was wrong.
Or was it? She couldn’t tell. She was tired and so was he. Yet, they’d spent a chunk of the day sleeping, and Cain was used to working weird hours and wasn’t the type to turn into a basket case anytime his sleep wasn’t ideal. If anything, he was the opposite. So why did he seem so distant?
He’d been that way since the race ended. Was he fatigued, not just from running forty miles at night but from taking care of her all weekend? Was he burned out on people, having spent two days around so many of them? Did he need some time alone to just recover himself again, like the true introvert that he was? Hannah was introverted too, but Cain… well, he took introversion to a new level, where he was perfectly happy to avoid people most of the time. He didn’t hate people, despite his joking that he did; in fact, he cared for people and cared for their wellbeing, despite his pretending that he didn’t. And people like that… they needed time for themselves.
And she would give him that time.
Hannah had taken Monday off, like she did last year. She spent much of it relaxing: going for an hour-long morning hike to encourage healing, reading in her favorite chair, and catching up with those who wanted to know how her race went.
She talked to Teagan for a while, filling her in on the details. She talked to her mom, who still couldn’t fathom why Hannah ran so much or would put herself through such an ordeal, but who was happy for her.
“I’m sure Tom and your father would love to hear all about it,” her mother said.
Hannah knew what that meant. She was trying to get Hannah to mend fences with her father, whom she hadn’t spoken to since Christmas dinner. Her mom was always trying to get Hannah to forgive her father’s ways, but Hannah stubbornly refused. Her dad never called her anyway. Claire had always been the family connector, trying to keep them all together.
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