“I will,” I promised, knowing that I wouldn’t call her.
I pulled my house key out of my pocket, and Kelsey and London both waved as they pulled away.
My crushed heart hurt in my chest as I pulled Ridge’s towel tightly around my shoulders. All I wanted to do was crawl in bed and cry myself to sleep. I squinted against the drizzling rain as I looked up at the half-moon and wondered if it would take away all the bad things that had happened today.
Chapter 16
Ridge
I cracked my eyes open as sunlight streamed through the blinds in my room and landed on my face. I couldn’t remember going to bed, and apparently, I’d forgotten to close my blinds first. A dull ache started at the back of my eyes and seemed to penetrate my brain.
Slowly, last night’s events materialized in my mind. Shit. I had a big, freaking mouth. Could I have been any blunter about needing to call it off with Ava?
So much for letting her down gently. I was just as much of a bastard as the last guy she dated. Groaning, I rolled onto my back and realized that I was still wearing the pants and shirt I had on last night. The shirt was twisted around my torso, but I made no move to free it. Instead, I stared at the ceiling.
How much had I drunk?
I groaned as I remembered my whole jealous boyfriend act. She was right. What she did was none of my business, and I had no right to say anything to her about other men. Damn, I’d been so relieved when she told me that Shannon was a female. The fact that I was jealous was all the more reason why I needed to break things off with her.
I forced myself into a seated position and scooted off the edge of the bed, trying not to move my head.
Opening my bedroom door, I walked into the hallway. I stood still a moment, and when I realized that I could hear someone in the living room, I wondered if she had come back after I fell asleep or maybe this morning.
“Ava?” I called, surprised by how much I wanted to see her.
I heard footsteps and then saw Kelsey poke her head around the corner. “Guess again.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, by the time I made sure all of your guests had gotten home safely last night, someone was drunk off his ass,” she responded. She clucked her tongue. “Care to guess who?”
She disappeared again, and I shuffled down the hall.
“Care to lower your voice?” I asked as I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of ice water.
Her soft laughter irritated me.
“You never did tell me what you’re doing here,” I reminded her, filling my glass with water.
“I’ve never seen you that drunk before, and you were kinda freaking me out. I ran home to get a change of clothes, and Mason and I spent the night to make sure you were all right. He liked to never got you to go to bed.” She began making all kinds of racket, clinking bottles together and rustling plastic bags. “And I thought Mason was going to be the drunk one,” she mumbled under her breath.
I could vaguely remember talking to Mason; although, I’d never remember the conversation word for word.
“Where did y’all sleep?” I asked, wondering if Mason had kept his hands to himself.
“Don’t worry,” she snapped. “I slept in the guest bedroom and Mason slept on the couch.”
“Where is he?”
“I took him home early this morning.”
I watched her as she filled a garbage bag with empty bottles, plastic cups, and used paper plates.
“You were an ass last night,” she said, but her words held no venom.
“Nobody asked you.” And I sure as hell didn’t need her to tell me.
“She wanted to talk to you.”
“She lied to me, Kel.”
Kelsey stopped what she was doing and watched me as I sat down on the couch. “Sometimes it’s scary to like somebody.” She continued to stuff garbage in the trash bag. “Maybe she was afraid to tell you the truth, Ridge. Maybe she had a good reason to lie. Maybe if you talk to her, y’all can work it out. I know you care about her.”
“I don’t do lies, Kel.”
“Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she countered, tying the top of the trash bag into a knot. “Maybe you overreacted, which I happen to know you’re really good at.”
She carried the bag of garbage out the front door.
Closing my eyes, I took a long drink of water, trying to hydrate my body and alleviate my hangover. I knew Kel was right, but I wouldn’t tell her that. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe Ava would hate me, and maybe her hate would make her stay far, far away from me. I had made a promise to myself that I would complete the triathlon in less than twelve hours and the triathlon was six days away. Now, here I sat with the worst kind of hangover, which had no part in my training routine. Why? Because of a woman. This was the exact reason why I didn’t need to get sidetracked with a female. What if this had happened the night before the triathlon?
Women made men do stupid things, and I didn’t have time for that shit.
Kelsey came back into the house empty-handed and proceeded to clean the kitchen. “What are you gonna do about it?” she called over the running water of the faucet.
“Not a damn thing.”
“Uh, Ridge!”
“Stay out of it, Kel.” It was best for both of us if we didn’t see each other again. I couldn’t concentrate with her around, and she needed more out of a relationship than what I was willing to give.
“You can’t just stop talking to her.” Kelsey turned the water off and glared at me, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.
“Why not?” I asked, jumping to my feet and immediately regretting it when my eyes felt like they would explode. Besides, it was highly unlikely Ava would want to talk to me after last night.
Kelsey wrung a dishcloth out angrily. “Because.”
“There’s a good reason,” I mumbled as I sat my glass on the counter.
“I know you like her, Ridge.”
“Leave it alone, Kel.” In desperate need of a hot shower, I began walking back toward my bedroom.
If I had listened to my instincts, I wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. There was a reason that I had remained emotionally unattached to women, and I was just beginning to understand the implications of what could happen when I didn’t stick to that practice.
And just to drive that point home, my Ava-induced hangover sent a skull-splitting ache through my head.
***
I hadn’t spoken to Ava since the night of the Halloween party. Several times during the last week, I’d wanted to call her, to ask her how she was doing, to talk triathlon with her, but I’d refrained.
As I unloaded my equipment, I glanced at my phone. The triathlon would start in an hour. I tried to push thoughts of Ava out of my mind. I’d been training for this for several months, and I’d made it my goal to finish in less than twelve hours. I had to concentrate on my task, not on the golden-haired female who seemed to penetrate my every thought.
Even though the calendar had ticked away to November, the morning air was crisp but not cold. As I carried my gear to the transition area, the area where I would change my gear as I switched from swimming to cycling and from cycling to running, I spotted Ava. She had arrived early and had a transition spot that was close to the water. Watching her as I taped a nutrition bar to the handlebars of my bike and insured that my water bottles were full, I hoped that her leg had healed enough that she would be able to complete the triathlon before the deadline.
After double-checking the tire pressure, I racked my bike and spread out a bright orange towel beside it. I placed my cycling shoes at the front of the towel, making sure they were opened wide, so that I could put them on easily after swimming, and I placed my running shoes behind them.
I placed my helmet upside-down on the handlebars, opened the chin strap, and laid my sunglasses inside the helmet.
As I continued to set up my equipment in the most efficient way possible,
my eyes drifted to Ava as she did the same. Her back was to me, and as I took a moment to focus only on her, my chest filling with inspiration. Her determination and dedication to complete this triathlon was admirable, but I knew as much of a challenge as it was for me, it would prove even more challenging for her.
As the start of the triathlon loomed over me, I made my way to the starting point, donned my wetsuit and swim cap, and warmed up. My goggles dangled from my fingers as I found myself searching for Ava amid the sea of swimmers in black wetsuits and brightly-colored caps that looked like the tips of high-lighters. My own cap was a fluorescent green, and while that wasn’t my favorite color, I supposed it was a relief to know that I’d be easier to spot if I actually started drowning.
As the starting horn blew, I raced to the water and dove in. I’d been training for this day for months, and while I realized I wasn’t at the head of the pack, I wasn’t too far back. I was holding my own, concentrating on my breathing technique and my strokes. To keep my speed up, I sighted my position as few times as possible. Attempting to concentrate, I pushed thoughts of Ava from my mind, but every time I pushed one thought away, two more would pop in my head. Damn it. I needed to focus.
And I did.
On her.
Shit. I propelled through the water, sucking in air as I turned my head to the side. Swimmers surrounded me as I kicked, their commotion driving me to go faster, to pull away from the annoying cluster of bodies.
To reach my own personal goal, I had to complete the triathlon in twelve hours or less, and that knowledge pushed me harder. I hadn’t missed a goal yet, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
As much as I tried to focus on my own game, I wondered how Ava was faring. Even without the lower part of her leg, she was a strong swimmer, and I realized that this would probably be the easiest part of the triathlon for her.
A little over an hour later, I climbed out of the cool waters of the Tennessee River, pulling my wetsuit off as I raced toward the transition area, so that I would only be wearing my tri suit for the rest of the triathlon.
Once I peeled the wetsuit off, I shoved my feet in my cycle shoes and put on my helmet, sunglasses, and my competition number. My eyes kept looking to Ava’s transition area. Knowing that I should be mounting my bike, I was frozen as I stared at the same spot I had seen her earlier. It was as if my brain couldn’t tell my body to leave until she showed up, until I knew that she was doing well and that I’d see her at the finish line before the deadline.
My hand rested on my bike. I needed to pull it down and get the hell to cycling. But I couldn’t. Cringing, I closed my eyes after I watched several triathletes grab their bikes and go, as if not looking at them as they were passing me would mean that it wasn’t happening. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d been training for months for this moment, and all I could do was ogle the spot where she should be.
When I finally opened my eyes, I saw her swinging her crutches as she frantically hurried to her equipment in the transition area. She sunk into a chair and peeled off her wetsuit, revealing her tri suit beneath it. Grabbing a towel and drying her left leg, she snatched up her cycling leg and quickly put it on. A few minutes later, she mounted her bike, and I followed suit.
She began the cycling leg at a strong pace, and even though I had the strength and endurance to pass her, I found myself holding back as I followed her. Part of me wanted to pull ahead, knowing that I still had time to finish the race in a decent time, but as I watched her pedal, a golden braid hanging down her back, I knew that I wouldn’t.
When we were about halfway into the cycling leg, she began to slow. She sipped on her water bottle, and a few minutes later, her pace quickened again.
By the end of the cycling leg, I could tell she was tired. As we pulled into the transitioning area to prepare for running, she fumbled as she tried to unclip her foot from the pedal. For a brief moment, I was afraid that she’d hit the pavement like she had the day we were at Creekview Park, but she recovered.
I pulled off into my transition area and watched as she continued toward her equipment. Worried about her, I kept a close eye on her as I changed into my running shoes.
After switching to her running leg, she sat quietly for a moment, taking in some nutrition. I did the same.
When I’d finished, I walked towards her, afraid that if she didn’t start moving soon, she’d have a repeat of her last triathlon, and I sure as hell couldn’t stand the thought of her being disappointed.
“Come on, Ava,” I urged.
Her head snapped in my direction as I walked briskly toward her. “Ridge?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought you’d be getting close to the finish line by now.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring her comment. If she knew I had intentionally stayed back, she’d feel guilty, and that was the last thing that I wanted. I wanted her to put all of her energy into reaching the finish line before the race ended at midnight, and I had a terrible feeling that due to the trouble she’d been having with her leg, the running would be the hardest part.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m a little tired, but my leg seems to be okay so far.”
“There’s eight hours left until the deadline. You ready to go?”
She stood and tested her weight on her prosthesis. “I’m ready.”
We began jogging the twenty-six miles that stood between us and the finish line. Neither of us spoke. We just concentrated on putting the pavement behind us. Ava gradually built up to a good rhythm.
As the hours ticked by, she began to slow, and I could sense that she was feeling discomfort. Her gait had changed, a subtle difference obvious only to those who knew her well.
“Is your leg bothering you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she breathed through clenched teeth.
“How bad?”
She sucked in air. “I can do this.”
That was my girl. “Yes, you can. Just make sure you don’t put your health in jeopardy. There will always be another triathlon.”
“I’m not quitting,” she quickly replied, her tone brooking no argument. To prove her point, she began to run faster, her braid oscillating across her back in rhythm with her footfalls. When I met Ava, I admired her immediately, but the longer I knew her, the more she amazed me. A man would be damn lucky to have her.
My thoughts rattled in my head as if I was trying to grasp that concept. Damn lucky. I didn’t want just any man to have her. I wanted her. I would be damn lucky to have her. The thought warmed me and terrified me at the same time.
The air chilled as the sun went down, and I noticed that Ava’s gait seemed to be getting worse.
“You okay?” I asked, worried that she was in pain.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“Let’s walk for a bit,” I suggested.
“I don’t want to slow down,” she said, glancing at me.
“Ava, let’s walk.” I said firmly, afraid that if she overdid it, the pain would be too great to bear.
She finally slowed. “Ridge, I don’t want to miss the deadline again…and I don’t want you to miss it. You should run ahead. Don’t wait on me.”
“Ava, I cross the finish line with you, or I don’t cross it at all.”
“But….”
“No buts. Concentrate on catching your breath and giving your leg a rest.”
We walked several minutes in silence. “Is your leg okay?”
“It’s feeling a little better.”
“Good.” I glanced at her residual leg and the running blade that extended from it, pleased that some of her discomfort seemed to have dissipated.
She broke into a jog, and I kept pace with her.
I was glad to be running again to regain some of the warmth I had lost once the temperatures cooled and our activity decreased.
“Are you cold?” I asked her.
“A little, but I don’t know, I kinda like it. In a strange way, it seems like it helps numb the pain.”
> Even though I hadn’t pushed myself nearly as hard as I had trained for, my muscles were fatigued, and I knew hers were, too.
We pushed on, though, and Ava seemed to do pretty well for a while.
The moon was almost nonexistent, but our path was well-lit by streetlights. Volunteers were stationed along the course with water. I glanced at my watch as someone called out that there was a half mile to go. It was after eleven.
Ava stumbled and cried out as she hit the ground. I stooped beside her while volunteers ran towards her.
“Can you make it, Ava?” I asked softly. “We’re only a half mile to the finish line.”
She whimpered, and I knew her leg ached. “I can. I can do this.”
Waving off the volunteers that were reaching for her, she stood back up without assistance and began to walk.
She bit her lower lip in response to the pain, and while part of me wished I could scoop her up and carry her across the finish line, I knew that not only would it disqualify us but this was also something that she had to do on her own. Hell, I knew that feeling all too well.
She stopped and bent over, her palms on her knees.
“Ava?”
“Just give me a minute.”
I was terrified that she didn’t have a minute to spare, but I waited patiently.
She straightened up, took a deep breath, and began walking again. She said nothing to convey how much pain she was in, but I saw her tears glisten in the dim light as they rolled down her cheek.
As we approached the finish, crowds lined the streets. Their cheers rang out into the still night air, and I could now see the finish line.
Ava stumbled again but regained her balance. She stopped and propped herself up on her knees. “Go on, Ridge,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I’m not going to make it.”
“Yes, you are, Ava. The finish line is right there.” I pointed at it, waiting for her to look up. As she stopped, the crowd began cheering, encouraging her to keep going. Volunteers hovered nearby to see if she would need assistance.
I yelled, “You can do it, Ava.”
Perfectly Able Page 17