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

30. Adam

Race day.

It’s a 5k so it’ll take all of twenty minutes, but I’m so nervous I might throw up. I’ve never been this nervous for a race before, not even when I was trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon (which I did on my third try).

If I’m being completely honest, I don’t know where my relationship with Paige stands after yesterday. There was a moment where I thought that maybe I should kiss her, that she wanted me to, there was hope that we could be together, but something seemed to hold her back. I didn’t want to overstep.

I guess I have more work to do.

I’m keeping myself busy, helping the organizers get set up. More spectators came out this year because of the team’s involvement, so the crowd is steadily growing to exceed the capacity limits.

Players are signing autographs and posing for selfies with participants and spectators alike.

“You look like you’re about to shit your pants,” Mateo says by way of greeting. The medical teams have just arrived and sure enough, there’s the swinging ponytail I’ve been dying to wrap my hand around. I barely pay attention to Mateo, stalking Paige with my eyes.

“I might, you never know.”

He scrunches his nose. “Gross.”

“Like it hasn’t happened to you.”

“Sure, it’s happened to every runner at some point.”

“Then why is it gross?” I’m not sure why I’m dying on this hill.

“Because normalizing something doesn’t mean it’s not disgusting.”

“Why are we talking about shit?”

“Because you look like you’re about to shit your pants.”

“Right,” I say, too distracted to keep this conversation going. I watch as Paige brings up the rear behind the other massage therapists. She’s laughing and talking with Connor when Nate spots her. He turns on his heel and jogs over to her, but she hasn’t seen him yet.

I watch as he tries to hug her, but when she backs up he doesn’t let her go. Instead, he pulls her in and kisses her as she struggles to get away. I freeze. She clearly doesn’t want him touching her.

Nate doesn’t know the new rule from HR yet. The news vans are here to do a story on the team and the charity the run is benefiting. Saying nothing to Mateo, I quickly make my way over to Paige, coming to stand a little closer to her than necessary. Nate drops his arms, releasing his hold on her and sizing me up.

“Can I help you, Coach?” he sneers.

“Yeah, you can get the hell away from her,” I say with a smile .

“I’m trying to talk to Paige, can you give us a minute?” He’s teetering on the edge of anger but knows I can make his life hell on the ice.

“I said everything there was to say on the phone. I don’t want to talk to you,” Paige says calmly. He reaches out and grabs her wrist. “Let me go,” she demands. He doesn’t listen though and pulls her into him.

“Let her go,” I say, stepping in close, all politeness gone. I let him see the violence in my eyes.

“Or what?” he hisses, paying no attention to the woman struggling in his grip. I see Paige’s eyes widen, still trying to break free of Nate’s grasp.

“You don’t want to make a scene, do you?” I say under my breath, aware of the sizable crowd around us. With Nate’s broad back facing the onlookers, and mine blocking the view of our staff, we’re relatively hidden from prying eyes. But this could escalate quickly, and it’s already gone further than I’m comfortable with.

“Just think of the publicity. This is a charity fundraiser for a women’s shelter and you’re currently holding a woman against her will,” I say through gritted teeth.

My hands are shaking with restraint, and if he doesn’t let go of her within the next three seconds, I’m going to slam my fist into his face.

I don’t get the chance because out of nowhere, Paige yanks her arm forward, catching Nate unaware. She rears her head back and smashes her forehead into his face .

There’s an audible cracking sound. Nate drops his hold on her, bringing his hands up to cup his face where the blood begins to pour out.

“Bitch,” he manages to spit, a little of the blood splattering both of us. I look around to make sure no one saw before leaning into him.

“If you touch her again without her consent, I will personally help her bury you in the ground,” I whisper so only he can hear as someone yanks my arms back and drags me away.

I let them because Paige broke his nose, and it won’t do either of us any good to start beating the shit out of him. It might make me feel better, but I don’t want to make the situation worse for Paige.

“Close call, Coach. Let’s get you out of here,” a voice says from behind me and the other reason I let them drag me back is because it’s Julien. Dude’s a beast, no wonder it feels like I’m being manhandled by a giant. Julien manages to get us out of the crowd swarming around Nate.

The fact that the reporters didn’t catch the whole thing is a blessing. Hopefully Nate has some kind of brain and stays quiet.

“Are you okay?” I ask Paige quietly.

“What did he do?” Julien growls.

“It’s fine. It’s not my first time dealing with an asshole.”

“It will be the last,” I swear. Julien’s intense dark eyes are fixed on Nate, protection mode activated. Our next practice is going to be brutal.

She laughs without humour. “Okay, whatever you say. ”

“Come on, let’s go line up,” I insist. Julien and I lock eyes at the same time, understanding passing between us. We will not let Paige get hurt.

We make our way through the crowd and take our places at the starting line. Julien has to leave us to stand with the other players, and I make sure he’ll keep his mouth shut. He’s a protective son of a bitch and he likes Paige.

He gives her a subtle high-five before he goes, which brings a smile to her face, and I can’t help but feel a little bit jealous, even though it makes me happy that she’s finding her place here.

I just want her place to be with me.

Henry Whyatt is making a speech touting the values of the players and the staff, gushing about the support and respect they have for women everywhere. Paige giggles beside me, and I throw an incredulous look her way.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” I whisper.

“I mean, it’s kind of hilarious, in a dark humour kind of way? I almost got assaulted at a race where we’re raising money for women from battered homes.” She tries to stifle another round of giggles, and it takes a lot in me not to join her.

“Shit, that’s dark. When did you become such a pessimist?”

The humour disappears from her face, shadows forming in her eyes. She shrugs, closing off. “Isn’t that how life goes?”

I want to whisk her away and pepper her with questions until I can decipher the reason behind every thought she has. I want her to feel safe and protected. I want to see that light return to her eyes. I want to make up for the fact that we could have had two more years together.

I also want to wrap my arms around her and shield her from everything, but I don’t know if she wants to be touched right now.

The crowd around us disappears and it’s just me and her. I feel the past and the present collide as the woman before me looks up with those eyes that are so familiar and so foreign all at once. I feel myself falling again, and I don’t want to stop. I never wanted to stop in the first place. It hits me like a ton of bricks that she’s here.

After two years spent dreaming up scenarios where I run into her, where she seeks me out, where I get up the nerve to reach out to her—it’s real. She showed up out of nowhere like some gift from the universe, and I’ve been falling ever since. I never actually thought it would be a reality. And here she is, real and within reach, right in front of me.

“If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here for you,” I say, my hands twitching with the urge to touch her.

She hesitates, killing me with anticipation, and then takes a big breath. “I was upset after the race. It made me really mad at the whole sport, at the world in general, so I took a break from running. I’m nervous about racing today.”

She’s sharing with me.

I nod, swallowing hard. I don’t think a day has gone by when I wasn’t angry about how the ultra ended.

“I get it,” I tell her, clearing my throat. “When I was sixteen, playing in the minors, we had a rocky season. During the playoffs, there was a make it or break it game and my team was on fire. But the refs were teenagers, barely older than we were, and they botched a lot of the calls, even taking away two of our goals. We ended up losing, and because of that game we didn’t advance. I wasn’t able to play a game where college scouts were recruiting. I carried my team that season and was ready to show off, but because of those kid refs, I didn’t get the chance.”

“Why would they put teenagers in charge of such an important game? I get the need for training, but there shouldn’t have been two.”

“No, there shouldn’t have been. I was so angry. I refused to go to any more practices that season. We were out of the playoffs, but there were still almost two months left of scheduled practices. It was so disheartening, and the lesson I took from it was that no matter how good I was, no matter how good my team was, I couldn’t control what the refs did and almost quit hockey entirely. It wasn’t fair.”

“Did your parents tell you that life’s not fair?”

“No,” I say with a laugh. “My mom was even more upset than I was. She ranted the whole car ride home. I thought my dad was going to get his head bitten off when he told her to calm down.”

“Yikes,” she says .

“That was when I learned never to say that to someone who’s angry.”

“Smart kid.”

“Weeks later, when my mom had calmed down, I told her I wanted to quit for good.”

“It took her weeks to calm down?”

“If you bring it up, she’ll still get all huffy about it.” I smile at the memory, and when Paige smiles back, there’s something sad about it, her eyes glassy.

“What did she say?” Paige asks. I want to reach out to her, but I’m still not sure if she wants that.

“First, she told me that refs are part of the game—good refs, bad refs, biased refs, and fair refs. Sometimes they’ll be on our side and we won’t complain, but we have to remember what it feels like to have a biased set of refs, to give grace to the team that loses because of it. Then she said that she was sorry, she overreacted after the game and that probably didn’t help me understand how to process my feelings. She told me not to give two refs, two teenagers, so much power over me that I let it influence the rest of my life.”

“That’s very smart. Your mom sounds like my therapist,” Paige jokes.

“She probably talked to her therapist about how to talk to me. I’m glad she did because I needed to hear it. She also told me that as much as we want everything to be fair, to be in control, it’s an impossible feat. Just like we can’t control the other team, if they do something against the rules, whether they get a penalty or not.

"And when we’re met with challenges in our lives, it’s okay to be upset about how unfair it is. It’s okay to feel hurt and not immediately try to find a silver lining. As long as we don’t let that hurt, that anger, whatever strong emotion we’re feeling take control and make decisions for us. ”

She’s staring at me, and I wonder how I’m holding up under scrutiny. I feel like it’s the first time she’s really looked at me since she got here.

“So you didn’t quit,” she sums up. I don’t know what I was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. The haunted look in her eyes doesn’t match the simple words.

“No, I didn’t. Mom ended her loving talk with a kick in the ass, telling me to get up and get ready for practice because she paid way too much money and spent too many hours freezing her butt off at the rink for me to quit.”

Paige laughs, and I see her subtly try to clear the overflowing tears.

“Paige—” I begin but stop short when her eyes flick behind me, her entire body tensing.

“Oh shit,” she says as she spots Maxim coming over to us. I place myself behind her and cross my arms, my spine straightening as I prepare to defend her against whatever slimeball remark is about to come out of his mouth.

“Easy there, muscles,” she whispers, and I can’t help but laugh, the movement bringing me close enough that I can feel the heat coming off her body.

“Paige,” Maxim says as he reaches us. He eyes me up and down, standing far enough back so neither of us can reach him. “You’re fired.”