The Real(37)

I was already mourning the loss of him, my body aching for more.

“Tonight was amazing,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I nodded.

I was about to speak when he beat me to it.

“’Night, beautiful.”





At six a.m. the next morning, there was a pounding on my door. I opened it to find a drop-dead gorgeous coach smiling at me. I promptly slammed it in his face. I heard his laugh before I slowly opened it again. This time, he held two boxes.

“Okay, we’ve only been asleep five hours. Can training wait until tomorrow?”

“No time like the present.”

“When I said yes, I didn’t mean today,” I said, making a quick excuse.

“So, you want to start tomorrow?” he asked.

“That would be awesome. I can get new running clothes and everything.”

“I had a feeling that might be your excuse. I’ve got you covered.”

I groaned. Of course he did.

“New Nikes, size seven. These will be good for your affliction,” he said sweetly. I didn’t take offense as I pulled out the shoes.

“These are awesome,” I said, “and expensive. Cameron, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. There’s some clothes in the next box. I like pink on you.”

It took everything I had not to mount him in my entryway.

“Wow,” I said as I pulled out the hot pink pants and matching shirt. There were a few more outfits as well as a sports bra. I was speechless.

“When did you get this stuff?”

“Last night when I left you, I went and robbed my own store,” he said. “Go try that on, and then we’ll stretch.”

“Okay,” I said, booking it down the hall, a strange excitement seeping into me. After brushing my teeth, I tied my hair up and washed my face. Everything he got fit perfectly, and I loved the look of it.

I walked out to meet him in my entryway.

“Sexy,” he said, biting his lip.

“Thank you,” I said, leaning in to kiss him. “Is it weird I’m kind of excited?”

“Not at all. I’m happy you are, especially at this time of day. And you’re going to love this, once you find your stride.”

I wanted to confess to him then I’d been trying to find my stride my whole life, both literally and figuratively. I was still fighting the emotion from his gesture. He would never know how much it meant to me. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Cameron led me through a list of stretches. He told me because of my gait, we had to do a few extra to make sure my inner thighs were taken care of. Apparently, he’d been studying up. I did as well and had watched a few videos on the art of running before I’d passed out. I’d laid in bed, dreaming about being one of those women that I envied who could run gracefully, confident. I wanted it more than I had led him to believe.

“We’ll aim for a mile today,” Cameron said as we hit the sidewalk. “But we’ll start slow.

“A mile.” I nodded. One didn’t seem so bad. Mentally rehearsing everything I’d learned, I psyched myself up as Cameron gave me a few more pointers.

“Remember to breathe. Don’t hold it. Steady in and out.”

“Got it.”

“Keep your own pace, not mine. If you get tired, try to press through with your breathing, and if it starts to hurt, stop.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go.” We set off as I tried to push off on the pads of my feet, arms close, hands loosely fisted, and breaths even. Cameron had a long stride and looked graceful in his jogging suit.

I mimicked what I could. But less than five minutes later, everything I learned went straight to hell. I was panting and close to seeing black. Cameron looked back at me as I lagged, and my arms went full T-Rex. He stopped in his tracks, seeing me struggle, and chuckled.

Something about it set me off. My cheeks flamed, a burning knot formed in my throat. Maybe it was the years of criticism I’d endured or the fact that I’d told him about it last night, but it hurt to watch him laugh at me. My heart plummeted as his dimples appeared.

“Hey, I’m just going to go back to my house.”

His smile was replaced with confusion.

“What?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Abbie—”

“Text me later or something,” I called over my shoulder as I headed in the direction of my house. Seconds later, I was caught by the waist and set on my feet as Cameron smiled down at me, but it disappeared when he read my face.

Hands on my hips, I glared up at him.

“This is what you call helping me? You laughing?”

Cameron surveyed my face. “You’re really pissed?”

“Just forget it.” I moved past him, and he stopped me.

“Abbie—”

“It’s fine, okay,” I snapped. “You know, whatever, I’m used to it.”

I walked off, determined to make it back to my house without shedding a tear, when I heard him bark behind me.

“Hey, lady!”

Something in his tone made me stop in my tracks and turn back his way. Long strides had him in front of me in seconds, and he looked . . . pissed. He loomed over me as I crossed my arms.