See You at the Finish Line (Run, Love, Repeat #1)

22. Adam

Julien and I perch at a high-top table in the corner of the bar. I’ve spent the last hour trying to convince myself to tell him about Paige. I’m such a coward. I also don’t want to disregard her privacy. What if she doesn’t want anyone to know? What if this wrecks any chance I have with her?

Then I remember that she went out on a date, and my swirling thoughts know no bounds. Who is she dating? How did the date go? I have to stop overthinking about this. Julien already knows we were at the same race, so it wouldn’t be much of a leap to guess we had something more. At least, I thought we had something more.

“Remember that ultra I did a few years ago?” I begin, trying not to lose my nerve. I need someone in my corner besides Mateo. I love the guy, but I think a calm presence like Julien’s might help.

“Adam?” Another voice cuts in before Julien can answer me. I turn to see a man walking towards us, his blond hair styled the same way he always wore it, roughly combed over to create a tousled look.

My mind goes blank. I haven’t heard from Caleb in over a year. After our huge fight two years ago we’ve drifted apart. Damn Mateo. I bet he told Caleb that Paige was in town. Did he also tell Caleb I was out with Julien tonight? He better not have.

The shit Caleb pulled at the race when he ratted me—us—out was a huge breaking point for me. He didn’t have my back. He could spew all the crap he wants about doing the right thing, certain that in the long run, I’d see that he did me a favour.

I don’t know how long “the long run” is supposed to be, but after two years, I can safely say I’m still pissed. Now that Paige is here, I’m even more upset with Caleb. He stole so much time from us.

I probably should stop thinking that—the loss of contact is not entirely his fault.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Caleb says over his beer. I take a sip of my club soda and lime. There’s an uncomfortable silence as Julien looks between us. I give Caleb a short nod and wait for him to say whatever it is he came over to say.

“Can I join you and order some wings or something?” he asks, his eyes shifty.

“I had dinner already. What do you want?” I ask when it seems like he’s beating around the bush.

He sighs. “Still pissed, huh?”

“I’m just ... I don’t know, Caleb. You did a shit thing.”

“I’ve said sorry.”

“Actually, no, you haven’t.”

“You haven’t given me the chance.”

“It’s been two years. Anytime between when you crossed the finish line and today would’ve worked.”

“You stayed in Utah after the race so you didn’t have to fly home with me.”

That’s only partially true. I stayed because ... Well, I stayed for a lot of reasons.

One reason.

Another awkward silence. It’s been a long day.

I hate Saturdays. With almost no hobbies outside of work and running, the weekends are pretty wide open after my long runs in the mornings. And Paige went on a date last night.

“Look, man, we both made some mistakes—”

“No, I didn’t make a mistake. You didn’t have my back. You tattletaled like a child—”

“You chose some chick you knew for three hours over me!”

I gape at him. “Do you still feel justified in what you did?”

“You ditched me to go after her. And look at you now—you’re not with her. I did you a favour.”

I see it in his eyes. He believes the shit that’s coming out of his mouth.

“You expected me to leave her lost in the desert? I asked if you’d be okay going solo. And even before the race, we talked about what would happen if one of us needed to slow down or wanted to speed up. We agreed it would be okay.”

“You asked me knowing regardless of my answer, you’d go back for her anyway, just so you could stick your dick—”

“That’s enough,” I say, cutting him off and standing up. Julien, who has remained a quiet observer during our exchange, stands with me, placing some bills down on the table. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend you aren’t an asshole who’d rather I leave someone I care about behind just to spare your feelings.”

“What, are you breaking up with me?” he retorts. I see the pain in his eyes, but I also see that he’s not sorry at all.

“Caleb, we haven’t spoken in a year, we’re already broken up.” I sigh. “Take care.”

Julien and I leave the bar, and he hesitates before clapping a broad hand on my shoulder and taking off. He knows me well. If I don’t want to talk about it, he won’t push.

As I make my way to my car, I’m itching to get out of the city. I love Vancouver, but I love living right outside Vancouver even more. My phone dings and I take it out, scrolling through the notifications. I received a bunch during drinks but didn’t check them because I was trying to be respectful and leave my phone away.

An email catches my eye.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

RE: MANDATORY STAFF RACE

Please see attached doctor’s note excusing me from the race.

That’s it. No opening, no small talk, no signature, just one line. How many times do I read it looking for more? I open the attachment to find a scanned note on letterhead from the University of Utah’s science department.

Dear Mr. Ashford,

Paige Harrison suffers from an enlarged cardiac disorder as well as a pertinacious cerebral defect. Though we suspect she has suffered from both her entire life, these conditions have only recently been officially diagnosed.

She is unable to compete in any running race, road or trail, lest she suffer from eudaimonia and die.

Thank you,

Dr. Leah Harrison

PhD, Biomedical Engineer

University of Utah

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it, especially none of the medical jargon making any sense. I begin typing my response immediately, not caring that I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Paige,

I’m very sorry to hear that you have, what I gather, a big heart and a stubborn brain. It must make it difficult to navigate life, especially when the result of a flare-up is dying of happiness.

Please note that a MEDICAL doctor’s note is required. As impressive as your sister’s PhD is, it does not qualify her to exempt you from the race.

Better start lacing up your shoes.

Sincerely,

Adam Bet-I-Can-Beat-You Ashford

I smile at my phone and press send, rereading her email and her sister’s note again before checking the other notifications. There are a few work emails I’ll get to on Monday. I’m at my car, standing at the driver’s side door, hand on the handle, when I get a series of texts from Mateo.

Mateo Ruiz

Saturday 9:45 p.m.

Dude

Be sitting down

Are you sitting?

Oh right, you’re out with Julien

When you get this, make sure you’re sitting, preferably not in a public place

I’ll give you a minute

I sigh and get into my car but wait to put my keys in the ignition. If it was something serious, he would have called, so I know no one died.

Okay, DON’T freak out

Who am I kidding? DON’T freak out too badly

Click this link (no it’s not spam)

I click on the link in his next text and my whole body seizes. The title reads, “NHL Season Kicks off with Nate Leverre’s Newest Lay.”

A clickbait headline if there ever was one. My stomach plummets when I scroll and see the series of pictures of Nate and Paige out on a date. Last night. She was with Nate last night.

There’s a picture of them cozy at a restaurant. First, they look serious, lost in conversation and absorbed in each other.

He’s laughing, then she’s laughing with him and he’s holding her hands. She’s still laughing and he’s looking at her like the sun shines out of her ass.

Who am I to judge? I totally believe it does. The last series of pictures shows them leaving. He has his hand possessively placed on her back, his pinky finger brushing the upper curve of her ass. The last picture shows them getting into a car together.

Fuck .

Nate Leverre is a total slimeball. His family is wealthy, so there isn’t news like this about him often. The general public doesn’t know he’s a douchebag because he’s perfected his boy-next-door persona. But in the hockey community, he has a reputation, hence the title.

The article won’t be up for long—daddy dearest will likely pay a huge sum to the editor of the gossip site to take it down, adding it to the family tab. To torture myself, I screenshot the images like the stalker I am.

Should I warn her? She probably went home with him last night and I try not to let that eat at me. Who am I to be jealous? She’s not mine.

It’s impossible to block the images invading my brain—his hands on her skin, his mouth on hers. While I’ve only kissed Paige once, I don’t think anything on this planet could rival how amazing it was. How amazing she was.

Since she’s been back, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.

I take some deep breaths and head for home, attempting to use the thirty-minute drive to clear my head. It doesn’t work.

I unlock my door and step through, still not used to the absence of little pitter-pattering feet coming to greet me. My ex took full custody of our cat when she moved to Ontario with her new boyfriend.

It was the right call. I’m hardly ever home, and Inca deserved better, though what she did to deserve living in Ontario, I’ll never know.

My shoes hit the floor with a thud as I kick them off and walk through the dark house, the only light coming from the open glass wall that looks out on the bay. I was so lucky to find this place. I had to use my entire bonus from signing with the Whales for the down payment. I never would have been able to afford it otherwise.

Even though I’ve only lived here for six months, I know I’ll make this into a home. I’m struck by an image of Paige sitting on the back deck, looking out at the bay, watching orcas swim by as the sunrise kisses her. And then I’d kiss her.

I run a hand down my face. I’m so lost to my longing for her, and she’s probably still in bed with Nate. At least I heard a rumour that his dick is nothing special. Adequate, I think I heard it called. My dick has never been called adequate.

Maybe she sent that email from his bed while they lay naked and sweaty, laughing together, sharing some sort of inside joke.

The fantasy in front of me dissolves as this new image takes its place—him kissing her bare neck as she laughs, swatting him away so she can write me the world’s shortest email and get back to fucking him as quickly as possible.

I begin to get undressed and make my way to my shower, turning it as hot as my skin will allow and wallowing in self-pity like the absolute goner I am. I stay until the hot water runs out and quickly lather in the lukewarm spray that’s left.

Wrapping a towel around my waist in the steam-filled room, I saunter into my bedroom, a headache blooming behind my eyes as I flop down on top of the covers.

When I grab my phone, I immediately shoot upright. My headache disappears when I see another email from Paige .

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

AJ Pain-In-My-Ass Ashford,

I told Leah that you said she was not the right kind of doctor so this is my warning that in approximately two days, you will have a very angry thirty-year-old woman pounding down your door with a baby in tow, ready to give you the ass kicking you deserve.

I’m only telling you so I’m not considered an accessory to assault.

I laugh as the smallest seed of hope sprouts in my heart. I try to squash it, but it won’t go away. She’s joking with me .

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Paige Sore-Loser Harrison,

You can tell your sister that I have the utmost respect for her career and the letter she wrote was exceptionally hilarious and clever. If I didn’t want to beat you so badly, I may have accepted it as legitimate. I also think she deserves an award for being the best sister ever for both writing the letter and insulting you in the process. Tell her she’s my new hero.

Hopefully that satisfies her need for revenge, because I fully believe she could come here and remove my balls. As I’m rather attached to them, I’d prefer they stay where they are.

Sincerely,

Adam Never-Call-Me-AJ Ashford

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Adam Plays-Dirty Ashford,

You still may have a thirty-year-old woman with a baby on your doorstep, but this time to deliver you a pie (she makes the best pies you’ve ever eaten in your life). Your email placated her and now she likes you more than she likes me.

I’m going to run this race just so I can prove you both wrong.

Sincerely,

Paige I-Don’t-Lose Harrison

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Paige You-Fell-Into-My-Evil-Trap Harrison,

I see what your sister meant about a pertinacious cerebral defect. It seems your case is quite serious, causing delusions of grandeur.

I seem to recall you saying you don’t run anymore, so I already have a leg up on you. I ran this morning. 10k. And I did it in 10 minutes, so you have no chance at beating me. Maybe we should train together so I can show you the ropes. Sounds like you need all the help you can get.

Sincerely,

Adam Never-Exaggerates Ashford

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Adam Overcompensating-And-It’s-Embarrassing Ashford,

I think I’ll keep my skills to myself so I can surprise you with them later.

Sincerely,

Paige You-Have-No-Idea-What-You’ve-Gotten-Into Harrison