Pepped Up & Wilder (Pepper Jones Book 6)

by Ali Dean

  “In the last ten minutes, I’ve gone from nervous to talk to Ray, sick to my stomach with his response, to resolute in my decision. Then I think I was amazed and happy by how easy and clear-headed I felt about the decision to leave Newbound, and well,” I gesture to the bed, “then I was a blubbering, angry, upset mess from what Ray said and how confused I am about what this all means.”

  Jace nods patiently as I speak, eyeing me warily like I might burst into another fit of tears. He should be wary. “I feel completely unstable right now,” I say on a long sigh. “Clear-headed and floating with ecstasy one second and a complete disaster the next. I seriously need a run.”

  Jace continues nodding, eyes wide. “I know, baby, that’s why I suggested it. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to come with?”

  Oh yeah. Apparently on top of all that I can’t follow a conversation. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at the situation. At myself. “No. I’ll bring my phone but I want to run alone.” I don’t need to explain to Jace. He knows me and knows not to be offended that I don’t want to run with him. I need that feeling of my feet pounding on dirt, fresh mountain air, and the steady beat of my legs moving along. Given he hasn’t left my side for more than five minutes since learning about the baby, I know he’ll make me bring my phone anyway.

  “Love you,” he tells me with a kiss on my cheek. And then he crouches down and lifts my shirt to kiss the spot above the waistband of my shorts. “Love you too, Lil’ Wilder.”

  I groan. “You’re going to make me cry. Stop it.”

  When he smirks up at me, another rush flows through me. Want. If I’m this crazy and all over the place for the next seven months, we’re in serious trouble. I need to get out of here before I lose my mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pepper

  The next morning we wake to find our phones blowing up. Someone finally decided to run with the photos of Jace and me each with different people weeks ago, when Jace was in New York and I raced in Boston. Given who the other people are – from our hometown, attractive, and already in the spotlight themselves – we knew this might happen. That doesn’t make the article any less ugly. I skim through it, the sick feeling growing with each speculation. A “source” close to the couple said that Madeline Brescoll is Jace Wilder’s ex-girlfriend and they had a long history in high school. They’ve recently reconnected and seemed cozy. Another “source” said similar things about me and Ryan, that we have a history and I’m now running with him regularly in Brockton. It’s gossip, but the news website has slightly more clout than a gossip rag, and the writing comes across as journalistic enough that some people might take it seriously.

  I toss my phone to the side. “I’d ignore this and brush it off, but what’s the deal with the ‘source’ they quoted? That’s a little disturbing.” Jace sits next to me in bed, scrolling through the article on his laptop.

  Jace doesn’t look up when he answers. “It’s Drake. No one would bother publishing this story unless someone was really pushing for it. It’s not news. It’s not even gossip people would be interested in normally. Drake’s being an asshole. Throwing a tantrum because he’s not getting his way and hoping I’ll react and beg for his help.”

  I shake my head, wondering how a dude in his thirties can be so immature. He must have been a spoiled little punk as a kid. “Let’s make sure we don’t raise this baby to be a little shit like Drake, ‘kay?” I snuggle up to Jace, wanting to lighten the mood and brush this off as nothing more than a nuisance.

  Jace closes his computer and pulls my body on top of his.

  “Little Wilder is going to be perfect,” he tells me, kissing me on the nose.

  There’s a knock on the door and Lulu calls, “Kids, breakfast is ready! It’s gettin’ cold!”

  Jace and I smile at each other. We’re both thinking the same thing. It’s probably time to get our own place, but we need to figure out where we’ll be long-term first. And really, it’s no hurry. Who can complain about having all their meals cooked? The lack of privacy is a bit irritating at times, but I will miss all the commotion and craziness too.

  Over the next couple weeks, I run almost every day with Lexi and Sienna on their shorter, easier runs, or Zoe, Wes, or some of my friends from high school. While I know I could theoretically train harder during pregnancy, backing off feels like the right thing to do. Not to mention, I don’t really have a coach right now and I’ve got no idea what my plan is down the road. I guess I’m waiting for Jace to figure out where he’ll be, which should be any day now. Draft contracts have been exchanged with the Stallions but I know Jace hasn’t shared all of the complicated details, like the fallout with Drake. I guess as long as he’s here with me in Brockton for the moment, I’m cool staying in the dark on the messier points.

  In some ways, it’s been the best couple of weeks I’ve had in a long time. We celebrated my twenty-fourth birthday with a low-key party at the Old House Tavern where I used to work. Neither of us is traveling and without a demanding training schedule, I’m able to hang out and run with all my Brockton friends, not just the ones who became pros. I can tell that Zoe is struggling a bit with the news. She’s happy for me but wishes she was pregnant too. I don’t think they’ve been trying for very long, but the girl has never been particularly patient when she decides she wants something.

  Jim is excited for us but I think a little freaked out that he’s old enough to be a grandfather. He’s only in his forties, and having been a bachelor most of his life, he lives a little differently than most guys his age. I can see Jace’s pride at the growing family echoed in Jim’s eyes though, and I know he won’t have any trouble with the grandpa role. He’s already talking about converting Jace’s downstairs space in his house into an epic playroom involving knocking down Jace’s old bedroom. He’s in the construction business and has seen some Pinterest-worthy playrooms over the years, so he inundates us with his ideas. That’s how Jim shows excitement and love, through projects. Jace and I decide not to remind him that it will be a while before Baby Wilder actually needs a playroom.

  There hasn’t been any follow-up from the gossip article, and it blew right over. I’m sure Drake meant for it to stir up a shitstorm either in our marriage or in the media, but when we didn’t react, no one paid much attention to it. I’ve been holding off on speaking with Coach Harding about running with him. I wanted things to settle a bit, and make sure that the gossip about Ryan didn’t escalate. Now, I’m back in his office at the field house, remembering that very first meeting I had with him as a college freshman. I was still trying to find my place on the team back then, and now I’m so much more confident in my running career, my potential. Ironically, even though it’s my profession, I’m less uptight about it too. I know that hard work pays off eventually; if not in this season, down the road it will.

  Ryan’s dad congratulates me on the baby off the bat and then tells me how great it’s been for his small group of pros to have me join them these past few months. “I know that Lexi and Sienna really benefitted from having you join on some of those harder training runs, Pep.”

  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Coach.” He’s told me to call him Mark but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop calling him Coach. “I left the Newbound team.”

  Coach Harding doesn’t look surprised. “I know. I spoke with Ray a few days ago. That was a good decision.”

  Frowning, I shift forward in my chair. “Why do you say that?” When I was considering my options as a college senior, Coach helped me get connected with Ray, touting him as the top marathon coach, particularly for women with Monica Herrick as his protégée.

  Coach’s eyes dart away and he hesitates. “A press release is coming out tomorrow about this. Monica Herrick tested positive for doping.”

  My jaw drops. I stare at Coach, speechless. The greatest female distance runner in the country for the past decade, my teammate for the first couple of years of my professional
career, is about to be outed for doping? You’ve got to be shitting me.

  Coach sighs. “I don’t know if Ray knew, but it’s awfully hard for me to believe he didn’t at least have suspicions. Based on what he told me, the evidence is fairly decisive. You know there’s often a gray area in these situations, but this is actually her second positive test in as many years. The first one was swept under the rug. Which, from what I understand, Ray had a hand in.”

  I shake my head. “How could I not know anything about this? I did a training block with them last August. I just saw Monica and some of our other teammates at the 10K in Boston two months ago.”

  “You’re the only runner on Newbound not based in Arizona. The other runners on the team are all going to be scrutinized very closely. You probably will be too.” Mark gives me a sympathetic look. “I hope your name isn’t swept into this and tainted with doubts. The good news is that you mostly trained solo. People might take a close look at your debut half though and wonder how you ran so fast pregnant. I think you’ll need to be prepared for that.”

  My heart rate picks up as I take in what he’s saying. He’s right. I was going to wait until the twelve-week mark to announce my pregnancy publicly, but I may need to do it a couple of weeks early. “I have all my blood tests from two days after that race,” I tell Coach Harding. “Will that clear me?” Panic invades my question. Once there’s suspicion surrounding an athlete, it never goes away completely. My entire career could be ruined. As my chest squeezes at this possibility, a bubble of hysterics threatens to break loose. A moment ago I sat here cool as a cucumber thinking how much more I had it together since my freshman year. And now I’m about to lose it. I try desperately to latch on to the confidence that it will all work out as long as I stay true to my training and my values.

  Coach Harding stands up and comes over to the other side of his desk, sitting on the edge. “Pepper, I’ll do whatever I can to help keep your name out of this. Yes, let’s get those blood samples sent to USADA before they even ask, to get ahead of the game. Then let’s work with your publicist to put the best spin possible on this. Explain you left the team weeks ago before you even knew about what was going on, that you wanted to train here in Brockton because the coaching style wasn’t working for you. That will imply you weren’t totally okay with Ray’s methods.”

  “I wasn’t. He assumed I’d –” I suck in a harsh breath before quickly letting the rest tumble out, “have an abortion.”

  When Coach Harding sucks in his own breath right behind me, the tightness in my chest eases just a bit. He understands how hard that hit. He gets it.

  “Your instincts to leave that team were right. From our few conversations since you’ve graduated, I sensed you weren’t clicking entirely with Ray or the women on his team. I wanted to offer for you to join us but I wanted to give you more time before putting that in front of you. I also was hoping to recruit a couple more women who could train with you. Lexi and Sienna are close, but I think you would really benefit from one or two female training partners who will challenge and push you. I’m working on bringing some on to the team.”

  “So, I can join your group?”

  Coach Harding smiles. “Of course. That’s what I’m saying. That’s what you came here today to talk to me about, right?” I nod and his smile widens. “We’d love to have you. Now, as you know, Ryan does a lot of the day to day coaching at workouts and check-ins. With the college team, I simply can’t be present at workouts and races very often. But you know Ryan’s grown up being inundated with my training philosophies and he’s really got excellent intuition.”

  He’s not wrong. Ryan’s always been wise beyond his years when it comes to everything running-related.

  “I know. Obviously, I won’t be training seriously again for a little while, so there’s no rush in recruiting more training partners for me specifically or figuring out all the details.”

  “Exactly. Now, let’s talk about your plan while pregnant. I remember when Marie went through that with Ryan. Based on her experience and others I’ve spoken with, I think you should take it day by day, and have no expectations on your body running-wise during this time.”

  Another knot of tension releases at his words. This is the approach that felt right to me all along. I had wondered if he’d have the same ideas as Ray about continuing to maintain a high level of intense training all the way through with the goal of hitting the ground, well, running, in every sense of the word as soon as the baby was born. Of course, I’d forgotten I had a resource right here in Ryan’s mom, a former professional runner.

  “I like that plan. I’ve felt great, to be honest. It’s surprising really. But I don’t need the pressure to keep up a certain level of fitness, and I really want to be able to back off if anything feels off, and not have to feel guilty about it.”

  “That’s wonderful you’ve felt great, Pepper. Marie had a rough go of it first trimester with both boys.” Conversation switches to Ryan’s younger brother, Kevin, who is now a runner at UC on his dad’s team.

  Despite the devastating news about Monica and the scrutiny I’ll be under as a result, I feel renewed and clear-headed when I leave Coach Harding’s office. Things really are coming together. As I walk to my car, I’m surprised by a sharp tightening low in my belly. It takes my breath away for a moment, and I pause in the parking lot.

  The last couple of days I’ve had stomachaches, and I’ve been debating calling Dr. Burch to ask if it’s normal. I’ve already called her with so many random questions, I’m trying to hold out until the twelve-week ultrasound coming up. I haven’t told Jace, because I know he’ll worry, but it seems strange to have stomachaches like this without nausea. I haven’t felt any morning sickness, and now suddenly I’m getting cramps.

  The pain usually only lasts a few minutes, but it’s still cramping by the time I get back to Gran’s. I don’t even realize tears are running down my face until I rush in the front door and Jace looks up from the couch, where he’s studying old football videos. He takes one look at me, and we both know something isn’t right.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jace

  When Pepper stormed into the house, cheeks wet, skin ashen, I think I already knew what had happened. My heart knew because it stopped beating for a few seconds. But I had to be strong for Pepper so I rushed to her, picked her up and tried to comprehend what was going on.

  “My stomach,” she gasped, clutching it. “The baby.”

  It took all my control to maintain an outward calm. “Let’s go to the hospital. I’m going to drive us there, okay?”

  “I think I’m bleeding,” she said through gasps for breath. I couldn’t tell if the sobs shaking her body were from physical or emotional pain. “Take me to the bathroom.”

  As much as I wanted to drive directly to the hospital, I couldn’t deny my wife’s request when she was in this state. I stayed with her while she tried to pull down her leggings. Pepper’s hands were shaking hard, clammy to the touch when I took them in mine before slowly easing the leggings down to her ankles. The panties came next, and we both stopped breathing when we saw what was between her legs. Blood. It wasn’t everywhere, but it wasn’t the light spotting she’d had a week ago that Dr. Burch said was normal.

  It took all my concentration to push my emotions back while I found clean panties and sweats for Pepper to change into. But she refused to put them on, shaking her head violently as she pulled the bloodied ones back up her legs. I swallowed hard at what she’d done. I understood why she didn’t want to throw them in the hamper with the rest of the dirty laundry, and I tried not to choke on the sob that wanted to come out of my own lungs. Instead, I scooped her up again and carried her to my old Jeep, parked in my dad’s driveway. I buckled her in and we drove to the Brockton Community Hospital in devastated silence.

  When we arrived, they told us what we already knew. Pepper, who had settled into numbness until that moment, broke into another round of sobs. We held each other l
ike that, her in a hospital gown, clutching the bloody panties and leggings to her chest, and me holding onto her with all I had left in me.

  The blur of loss was thick and the air tasted like dust for hours even after we left the hospital and returned home. Pepper went straight to our room and I tucked her into bed. I wanted to crawl in behind her but I needed to be the one to handle sharing the news. Of course, I probably didn’t have to say anything to Bunny. She knew immediately what had happened when she saw me carrying Pepper inside.

  My voice came out as a croak when I told her, “We lost Baby Wilder.” Gran opened her little arms and took me into her chest, enveloping me in her love. Damn it felt good to be loved by this lady. I let out the tears I’d held in until I was wrung dry. The grief wasn’t gone, but I was clear-headed when I pulled away minutes later.

  “A miscarriage. Nothing unusual or complicated. Just a ten-week miscarriage,” I repeated what I knew. Saying the diagnosis like that, it sounded so insignificant, something that happened all the time. Standard. Nothing to dwell on. But we’d lost a baby. Yeah, the baby hadn’t been born yet but it was still a death. All that hope and love we had wrapped around the baby was lost. A baby we hadn’t planned for and didn’t know how badly we wanted, yet I knew that both of us would hurt from this for a long while. The pain was intense, and while I knew from experience that pain lessened with time, I also knew that some pains never fully went away. They stayed with you forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pepper

  It hurts. The ER doctor told me that my stomach might continue to cramp for a day or two, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain everywhere else in my body. My limbs. My head. Mostly, it came directly from my heart, radiating through my lungs and infecting my entire body with a weight so heavy I didn’t know if I’d ever get out of bed again. At least not on my own. I don’t know how much time passed but Jace has been carrying me to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, trying to get me to eat and drink; he even threw me in the shower at one point. Well, he didn’t throw me. He stood with me and washed me like I was a little kid. The pain was so strong I couldn’t even speak.