The Fastest Way to Fall(103)

When I wasn’t debating twisting an ankle as a gracious exit strategy, I thought of Wes. His smile, his voice, his bad jokes, and how nothing had changed—if anything, this job offer put us in a more precarious situation. I couldn’t believe he didn’t see what a conflict it was for him to not only hire me but create a job for me to do. I didn’t want a pity job, but it was the kind of position I’d love. I wanted to build an online community, I wanted to write, and I wanted to do it in a place like FitMi.

My playlist ticked over to the audio file Wes had sent me when I was at the spa. His voice filled my head.

“Pick up the pace.”

“Eyes forward.”

“You’re doing great.”

“One more mile.”

“I know you can do it.”

“Push.”

“I believe in you.”

I shook off the self-doubt and picked up my speed, pumping my arms to pull forward, and moved from a jog to a run. I caught Claire off guard as I pulled away from her—I had a finish line to reach, no matter if I took the job or not.

That gust of adrenaline lasted until the six-mile mark, when I reclaimed my position ahead of many of my competitors. My lungs threatened to quit on me. We’re done with this shit. My legs joined in with a chorus of We’re indoor people, remember? and the rest of me wheezed and creaked.

I could see that the finish line wasn’t far in the distance, and all around me, spectators cheered on the runners. The path was lined with tall trees, still full of wide green leaves with hints of orange signaling the onset of fall. I’m so close. My brain screamed at the rest of my body, but I slowed to a complete stop, staggering to the side to catch my breath. I bent with my hands on my knees, sucking in air. Running the last mile at that speed had been a mistake, but I was ready to go, ready to be there. Not just for Wes, but for me. I saw that finish line, and I wanted it.

Footsteps fell on the path behind me, and I moved farther to the side to let them pass. Pass me. Just pass me. I took in more breaths, gripping my knees. I closed my eyes. Push, Britta. I vowed to set my self-doubt aside until I finished, even if I was the last one to do it.

The footfalls I’d expected to hear fade as the runner passed stayed near me, and a deep, familiar voice pulled my gaze from the ground. “You’ve got a little farther to go.” Wes jogged in place next to me. His hazel eyes were bright, and I fought the urge to leap at him. It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but it felt like forever.

“Thought . . . you were . . . meeting me . . . at the finish line.” I struggled to catch my breath, but part of that was from being close to him again.

“I was.” A sheepish look crossed his face along with his playful, crooked smile, and I melted.

“But . . . you’re here?”

“It looked like you could use a coach.”

“Always,” I said, my smile growing through my heaving breaths.

He reached for my hand, his fingers surrounding my palm, and brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on my knuckles. Despite my exhaustion, the pain radiating through most of my body, my breathless lungs, and sweat-soaked . . . everything, a spark traveled from my hand up my arm and to every part of my body.

“Will you . . . go the rest . . . of the way with me?”

He met my eyes and shook his head. “Nah.”

“What? I need you.”

He let go of my hand and rested his palms on both of my biceps. “No, you don’t.” His hands were firm and warm against my sweaty arms. “Not for this.”

My breath evened out, and I stared up at him as runners passed us in the morning heat.

“As the guy in love with you, I’m telling you you’re perfect, and you can do anything you set your mind to.” He rubbed his thumbs in small circles down my arms. “And as a coach, I’m telling you to get your pacing under control, pay attention to your breathing, focus on the finish line, and dig deep.” Wes reached for my running watch and slipped it off my wrist. “When you get there, I plan to ask you to be with me, to trust me to share your heart and your life.” His lips tipped up. “I hope you’ll say yes, and we’ll have lots of shared moments, but this one isn’t ours. It’s yours, and you’re ready for it.”

He dropped my watch in his pocket and brought my hand to his lips again. “You got this?”

I was, but before I took off, I met his eyes. “You know I’ll say yes when you ask, right?”

The finish line loomed, a blue stripe painted on the road under an awning with a FitMi logo plastered on a wide banner. After ten thousand meters, six point two miles, and so many steps before that, I crossed that line. It wasn’t graceful, but I didn’t care, because I’d finished.

Struggling to catch my breath as a whir of emotion rushed from me, I looked around, wide-eyed. I did it. I can’t believe I did it. Drenched and tired, already sore and exhausted, I’d never felt so alive and like I could do anything I set my mind to. Stumbling to the side of the path, I wanted to high-five every inch of my body—the body I’d tried to camouflage for so much of my life—for getting me here. RJ, Kat, and Del yelled my name and waved signs nearby, and tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to tell my high school gym teacher to shove it. I wanted—Wes wrapped his dry, clean-smelling body around me and kissed the side of my head—that.