Fallen Crest Family (Fallen Crest High #2)(44)

When she came out, she locked the doors. "We had triple the business tonight than a regular night."

Brandon gestured to Mason. "Because of him and their friends."

I felt my hand squeezed, and Mason whispered in my ear, "I'll wait for you in the car."

I nodded. As he left, Brandon stood up. "I'm tuckered out. See you ladies tomorrow."

Lily called out goodnight to him, and I gave him a small wave as he disappeared around the side of the bar towards their house. As he went, Lily gave us a small smile and wave of her own before she went over to her car.

Heather pulled out a cigarette. When it was lit, she gestured to Mason's Escalade. "He didn't want to stick around and hear our thanks for the business?"

I shrugged. I had no idea. "Ethan Fischer is having a party tonight. We said we'd go. You want to come?"

As she took a drag, she paused for a second. "Are you kidding me?"

I frowned. "No, why would I be? You went to the one last night."

"Yeah, but we shouldn't have gone there. Channing had been opposed the whole time."

"So why did you?"

She took another drag off her cigarette. "Can I be honest?"

Her eyes found mine and fixed there. I felt her studying me in the same way Mason would when he wanted to read my mind. "Sure." But I didn't know why she wouldn't have been honest?

"I saw you last night, after we closed. I waited around because I wasn't sure if you had a ride or not. I know you told me Kade was your boyfriend, but I had my doubts. Then I saw that other guy pick you up and I don't know." She inhaled, and then exhaled. Her head fell down. "I went to the party to see if you were there and if you were okay. I figured any girlfriend of Mason Kade's would be at his party so…"

"You went there to see if I actually was his girlfriend?" Disbelief slammed into my chest. I wasn't used to that reaction. Most girls hated me when they learned the truth, but Heather's reaction was almost refreshing.

"I went there to make sure you were okay."

"Oh."

"Look," she stood from the wall and took another drag. "They haven't told you so I guess I have to. I'm good friends with Channing."

"Okay." I nodded. "Why's that such a big deal?"

She didn't answer again, not right away. But when she did, it all made sense. "He goes to school in Roussou."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Coach Grath met me at a park near my old home where David lived, if he still lived there. I didn't ask why my new coach picked that park, but it was fine with me. This was one of my normal running routes. When I got there, he pointed to the grass, "Stretch out."

He was all business.

Coach Grath had a gruff face. His square jaw gave a no-nonsense vibe and there were no wrinkles around his mouth, like he never smiled or laughed. He was dressed in a crisp-looking track suit with the Fallen Crest Public school colors, red and black. A whistle hung around his neck, and he held a clipboard in his meaty hand. As soon as I was done stretching, he grunted, checked his watch, wrote something down on his clipboard, and gestured to the walking trail. "Keep to the right, circle the park, and come back here. It's one mile. I'm recording your time." He paused before his eyes went flat. "Go."

The abrupt command startled me, but I started off. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I wasn't going to go my fastest, not until my muscles were looser. When I came back around, he checked his watch again, wrote the time, and told me to go again. As I hauled off, he yelled after me, "Go faster this time."

So I did.

That was my training routine—each mile was timed, and with each lap, he told me to go faster. After I had been running for 90 minutes, he asked how much longer I could go.

"My longest run has been four hours." All at one time with no breaks, but I didn't share that bit with him.

He nodded, wrote something more on his clipboard and pointed at the trail again. "I want you to go your fastest now and don't stop until you're out of gas."

My eyes widened. Did he know what he was getting into? But then he said, "When you're done, remember the time and distance. Report back to me tomorrow, same time, same place. No late nights. Start buying almonds, whole-grains, oranges, and vegetables. Don't carbo-load the night before your long runs."

"I never have."

He had started to leave, but turned back. He didn't blink. "What'd you say?"

"I've never loaded up on carbs the night before. I don't want to change my eating habits, sir."

"Coach."

"Coach."

Then he frowned. "What do you usually eat?"

I shrugged. "Chicken, a bagel every now and then."

He nodded. "Chicken's good. Salmon's better, but don't stretch your bank account. Do what you're already doing for this month. Next month we'll try it my way and see which one has the better results."

I stepped back. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Coach!"

I winced. "Coach. Are you challenging me?"

He folded his clipboard against his chest and tucked his chin down as he gave me a long searching stare. Then he sighed. "Strattan, you came to me. If you want a scholarship, you'll play by my rules. I'm not challenging you, I'm pushing you. You're going to be the best damn runner you can be and if you stick with my rules through the track season and cross country season next fall, you'll be going to a school with a full ride."