My phone started vibrating. Was it Mom calling again already? She must be really worried about my week with Lincoln.
When I picked it up, I paused. Coach Simmons. I had been ready to leave my entire career in the past, but here he was on the phone. Did I think I’d really never talk to him again? We spent years together. I couldn’t expect to just walk away.
“Hello?”
“Calling to see how you’re doing.” I could picture him in his red hat, pacing the room in his white New Balances and probably wearing a windbreaker even though it was eighty degrees out. His timer would be around his neck. I used to tease him about going to bed with it.
My smile came easy. It was good to talk to him again. I hadn’t acknowledged how much I’d missed someone that had been such a mainstay in my life. “I’m good. I even went rafting yesterday.”
“Nice. Vacation’s going well then?”
I’m sure by well, he was asking if I was feeling okay and whether I was getting to the places I wanted to go. But well for me was several orgasms and spending some time with a hot guy I had been lusting after for a while. “It’s good. Did everything go okay with the races?”
“I tried to find Coach Keating afterward to give him a piece of my mind, but he ghosted the whole race. Unprofessional.” The image of him shaking his head while frowning rose in my mind.
“Ghosted?” Trying to sound casual and not like I was lying was hard for me. I was a compulsive truth-teller, and it was taking all I could not to blurt out that Lincoln was spending his days with me.
“Yeah, and that’s why I called.”
My eyelids drifted shut. Shit. The rumors had started. What had I expected? Lincoln had driven me away from where all the big shots had their meetings, and I had stayed in a hotel where other racers also stayed. The same hotel Lincoln had driven me to and taken me away from.
“Oh?” Again, I failed at being casual.
“Some of the runners are talking…” He didn’t continue, and I didn’t say anything. He would have to spell it out before I confirmed or denied anything. “That they saw you and him…”
“Coach, you’ve seen me vomit all over a brand-new pair of shoes and sweat through my clothes so bad it looked like I peed myself. Go ahead and say it.”
“Well, between the way he vanished and abandoned his own runner, then how some people said they saw you together and how you just disappeared, well, they think you two ran off together.”
My giggle sounded suspiciously high. I could deny everything. Or I could talk to a man I had trusted with my entire career since I’d gone professional. “Yes, we are together, and no, it wasn’t planned.”
Coach Simmons blew out a gusty breath. I could picture him again. He’d take his hat off and hold it while he brushed the back of his hand over his thinning hair, and then stuff the hat back in place. “Geez, Nellie.”
“I know. It wasn’t expected.” I explained it the same way I had told Mom. “I told him off at the bar, and then I got sick over a milkshake, and then he took care of me. And he’s just kind of been… Taking care of me.”
“You that bad off?”
Coach would beat himself up if he thought I’d been suffering at any point under his watch. “No, I feel great. But it is nice having someone to do all this stuff with. Without having to pay them,” I teased.
“But it’s Lincoln Keating.” Coach Simmons made saying his name sound painful.
“I’m as surprised as anyone, and I’d appreciate it if you just let the rumor mill die out.”
“You know I won’t say anything, but I’m glad you’re honest with me. It still means a lot.”
“It’s the least I could do. You’re stuck cleaning up my mess.”
He tsked. “It’s no mess. You have a serious reason for doing what you did, and I completely support it. I don’t know that I support you and Coach Keating though. I still want to tell him an earful when I have the chance.”
“Then consider this my last gift. Protecting your job so your mouth doesn’t get you into trouble.”
His chuckle came over the line and sounded so normal that my eyes drifted shut and relished it. Normalcy. My lifestyle had been unique compared to some, but it had been my life. Now I had this yawning darkness of not knowing what was going to happen, but knowing that it wasn’t going to be easy, ahead of me.
“You’ll always be my favorite, Nellie. You know that, right?”
Tears gathered in my eyes. “I’ll get suspicious if you stop telling me that, but I hope you find another runner that gets along with you as well as I did.”
“You were a dream to coach. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I would, too, but it was over. We said our goodbyes, and I didn’t feel like it was for forever. Coach Simmons would still be in my life, but this time as a friend. I was hanging up when Lincoln came back into the room on a wave of savory sausage smells.
He glanced at the phone, then at my face like he was checking to see how the conversation went, and set the bag down. “Breakfast burritos and orange juice. I thought you might like some breakfast in bed.”
This vacation was the best. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed.”
The small smile on his lips gave him a mysterious air and propelled me back to last night when the shadows covered half his face as he thrust into me. I had no idea orgasms could be so powerful until I slept with him.
Settling back into the bed, I watched as he emptied the bag of our burritos and dug the orange juice out of the drink tray. He didn’t ask who was on the phone.
He handed me the food and set my drink on the counter. Next, he pulled the upholstered chair closer to my side, sat, and put his drink next to mine. Stretching his legs across to plant his feet on the bed, he started eating.
I couldn’t ask for a better view. He had strong legs, full of muscle, and seeing him relaxed like this was always a treat.
Meanwhile, my hair was a mess, and I should probably shower after last night’s sexcapades.
I waited until we were halfway through before I spoke about my phone call. “That was Coach Simmons.”
He looked at me while he chewed, a question was in his eyes. Was I telling him for idle chitchat, or was there something wrong?
“He said people have been talking. About us.”
His chewing slowed, and he nodded. Like me, he probably hoped we made it out together undetected but wasn’t surprised that we didn’t. The running world was small. We all knew and followed each other’s careers. Me being seen with Lincoln would be newsworthy on an ordinary day. But after the controversy, he and I weren’t ordinary.
“We were seen together, and we’re both gone.” He grabbed his juice and took a gulp, still looking as relaxed as before.
“I told Coach Simmons, but I trust him to keep it to himself.”
“He will. He’s a good guy and a good coach.”
I was about to say so are you, but I couldn’t. The statement hung in the silence, weighed down by my lack of response. Lincoln was a good guy. If asked a week ago if I thought he was a good coach, I would’ve said he was the best. I still think so. But he crossed a hard line.
He was an imperfect person like the rest of us, not the running god we’d all built him up to be. I wanted to be with the person. The coach could stay away from my vacation.
He wadded up the empty wrapper of his burrito and tossed it across the room into the garbage. “I don’t talk about my private life. Not even to my runners.”
“We all talked enough for you.”
He slanted a perplexed stare my way.
“It was true.” Or maybe I was more likely to talk about him. “You’ll be pleased to hear that the runners you worked with were also as tight-lipped.”
“There was nothing to talk about.”
“Exactly. Mysterious.”
His lips quirked. Resting his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “Let me know if you want to eat breakfast out the rest of the week. I’ll be dealing with my
own phone calls in the mornings.”
Now that he mentioned it, his phone hadn’t rung once. Leaving like he had, he must have a ton of missed calls.
“No problem.” I was dying to know what was going on in his life. But it wasn’t my business. The struggles he was going through wouldn’t help me moving forward. I might be in a good headspace now, but I didn’t need to crack the door open for future resentment.
I had just stuffed the last piece of food into my mouth when he said, “My mom called too.”
He said he had newly retired parents that were touring the country in their RV and an older sister in Denver. He also had a teenage niece and nephew he didn’t see often. It was the getting-to-know-you chatter people did on dates. This was going beyond that—or not, and it was my wishful thinking.
“She’d heard of my sudden departure and was calling to check on me.”
I was dying to know what he said, but I was playing it cool. And probably failing. “That’s sweet.”
“Yeah.” He fell quiet and gazed out the front window. “I said I had to get away for a bit.”
My heart sank. He didn’t tell his mom about me. He had no reason to. A mother didn’t want to hear about her son hooking up with someone for a week and then leaving. But my emotions didn’t listen to logic. It hurt.
“But then my sister called and said, ‘Bullshit, Lincoln. What the hell’s going on?’ So, I told her I went away with someone for a few days. That I needed a break.”
It hurt a little less. “Did she buy it?”
His dark brown gaze bored into me. “It’s the truth.”
“But who you’re with is pretty significant. Did she sniff out the ‘I’m not telling you everything’ part?”
His lips twitched again. “Yes, but I didn’t want to risk sharing with my niece and nephew nearby. Those kids can get word out in eight different formats before I even blink.”
“Oh my god, you sound old.” I lobbed my wrapper toward the same garbage can and missed by a foot.
“They make me feel old.”
I’d told my parents and my former coach about him, and he told no one. It was his life, and he’d have to go back when the week was up. Shunning the negative thoughts, I found something else to take my mind off it.
I hopped up and chugged my juice. He’d known exactly what would hit the spot. “I’m going to shower.”
The heat in his gaze turned up to magnum. “Want company?”
Chapter 9
“I dunno. I feel like this hike is too short.” I puffed a lock of hair out my eyes.
“We still have two miles to go. We’re just over halfway.” Lincoln was behind me and didn’t sound winded. This trail was described as moderate, and I agreed. It was challenging at times, but he made it seem like a stroll.
The hike gave us plenty of time to talk, and since we were out in the sun and wind and nature, the topics were light…and very enlightening.
“I still can’t believe you were the champion of the Beer-Me Trail Race,” I called over my shoulder.
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” He chuckled. “The things we do to impress girls.”
No way. Stopping, I spun around, my trail shoes crunching in the dirt. “You did it to impress a girl?”
He didn’t quit advancing until we were nose to nose. “No, I ran five miles through the woods, chugging a beer each mile, to shut my college buddies up. I told you to impress you.”
Rising on my tiptoes, I let my lips hover by his. “It worked.” I gave him a quick kiss.
“Then I don’t have to tell you that I killed the Donuts and Booze 5K.”
Both delicious, but paired together and while running? “Do I even want to know what’s involved?”
“Down a doughnut and a beer at the halfway point.”
“Ew. Did you puke?”
“Right after I won.” That was the cockiest tone I’d ever heard from a guy.
“You’re competitive, Coach Keating.”
“So are you, Pelton. At the risk of sounding cliché, I knew you were trouble when you walked onto the track.”
“Based on my history?” I was squeaky clean.
“No.” He was quick to answer. “I studied your stats, knew your weakness—early season races—and your strengths—you can hold pace the entire distance. But I saw you warming up, how well you and Coach Simmons worked together, and your perky attitude.”
“Perky?”
“Damn right. You wrinkled that pert little nose listening to Coach Simmons critique you, then you grinned and killed the next round. You did it almost every time. I could predict when you’d have a podium win.” He brushed a thumb over my bottom lip. “I lived for it.”
My belly fluttered. He’d paid attention to me. It was still hard to believe. “I had no idea you watched me like that. I lived for seeing your ass in a pair of jeans one day.”
“I hardly ever wear jeans.”
“I know. Your ass is still tight in fleece-lined sweats.”
Faint huffing broke through our conversation. I looked over his shoulder as he twisted to see where it was coming from. We weren’t terribly worried about mountain lions, but that didn’t mean I’d let one sneak up on me.
A gentleman that could be Lincoln’s age or closer to fifty depending on how well he took care of himself was concentrating on the path. His chest heaved, his face was red, and I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears running down his face. He wore a safari hat, carried a walking stick, and if I guessed the weight of his pack, it was twenty pounds too heavy.
“Hey, man,” Lincoln called. “You doing okay?”
The guy looked up, hastily swiping at his cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I’m just… Yeah, I’m okay.”
No, he wasn’t. “Beautiful day,” I called, hoping it’d coax him into conversing more.
Lincoln started his way, unbuckling his water bottle. I followed.
“Oh, yeah.” The guy stopped, his hands on his knees. “Good place for a rest, huh?”
It was a good place for a pause. A small clearing before the trail got steeper, then climbed at a good rate.
“Sure.” Lincoln gestured to the man’s pack. “You have enough water?”
“I’m good.” He waved off the concern.
“Here, take some of mine.” Lincoln was using his coaching voice, the one that wasn’t to be argued with. He unhooked his extra bottle from his pack.
The man screwed his face up, trying to get a good look at Lincoln, but the sun was behind us. We had a better view of him than he had of us.
Lincoln stepped forward, the bottle held out. “I’m Lincoln. I work with athletes, and I learned early that you can never push too much water.” His reassuring smile was one I’d never seen before.
“Sean.” The man straightened, his flushed expression sheepish. “I brought everything but enough water.”
“Here, give me the pack, and you can take my water.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”
Lincoln shoved the water bottle into Sean’s hands. “No worries. This is my extra. I haven’t drank out of it yet.”
Sean gripped the bottle like it was a lifeline. He glanced at me.
“I have an extra too,” I said. “Go ahead.”
He chugged half the bottle and handed it back.
“Keep it,” Lincoln said. “Can Nellie and I join you for the hike back?”
Sean was starting to shake his head, but I cut him off. “We’re a couple of miles out, but it can be a long hike alone. Lincoln’s been paid good money to coach for a long time. Perhaps we can get some free tips from him?”
“Truth be told, I could use all the tips.” Sean sighed and adjusted his hat. “This was supposed to be a self-discovery hike, but I’m failing at this too.”
“How so?” Lincoln asked. “You’re over halfway done, and you accepted help from complete strangers. I don’t see where you’re failing.”
Sean speared his walking stick into the trail, and his story spilled
out as if it’d been pushing against the walls of a weak dam. “You know the stereotype. Middle-aged divorcee trying to get back into shape. I haven’t gone to the gym, but I’ve been a member for a year. I thought maybe… I dunno…that this would be different.”
“It already is.” Lincoln was able to talk to Sean without patronizing him, but was encouraging at the same time. Like much of my time with him, I hadn’t seen this side before. He was probably acting more like his early coaching days than he had in years. “You’re out here doing the work. The gym is there when you’re ready.”
A placating smile flickered over Sean’s mouth. “Thanks, but…”
“You’ll feel better when you finish.” I had to distract Sean from the defeatist attitude he’d developed. “Ready?”
“I have to be. No one’s going to carry me back.” Sean huffed as he walked, but he was moving ahead. He looked better after the water and was looking forward instead of forlornly at the trail.
When the path allowed, Lincoln and I flanked him. Most of the time, I walked in front with Lincoln behind him. He was better at determining Sean’s wellbeing than I was, although I understood Sean’s mindset.
Sean probably felt different from Lincoln and me. A coach and former professional athlete that weren’t struggling on a moderate hike, dressed in the latest moisture-wicking fashion, both prepared with extra water. Sean was a guy I’d guess hadn’t ever won a race on foot, and I doubted he was feeling like he’d won at anything in life right now.
But Sean and I were at a change in our lives. Mine was taking me on a journey that was only partly familiar because of my mom, but I knew I wasn’t going back. Sean had come on this hike to keep from going back to his old life. Like me, if he went back and pretended everything was fine, he’d wither away. But neither one of us had any guarantees that there was anything better just because we were moving forward.
“What do you guys do, other than save panicking hikers on the Colorado trails?” Sean asked. He sounded upbeat. His walking stick rhythmically picked at the ground. He was better than he thought. This section of the trail was downhill, but a nice path had been carved out by hikers over the years.
Finish Line: A Playing Hard Novella Page 6