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

39. Paige

I’m still staring at Adam, my heart racing, as I answer my phone. This would be funny if this situation hadn’t caused us both so much heartache. I made a mistake entering the number into my phone. It’s my fault.

“Hello?” I answer, not taking my eyes off Adam as he stares intently at me. I’m not sure what he’s thinking.

“Paige?” Leah asks, her voice concerned.

“Hey, Leah.” My voice sounds weird even to my ears.

“Are you okay? How was the race?” she asks.

“It was good, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

Not waiting for her to argue, I hang up the phone, placing it back in my pocket.

Adam surges forward and takes my face in his hands, kissing me with a force so strong I stumble. His arm is there to catch me, and his kiss is nothing like I remember but communicates everything I feel.

Confusion. Relief. Sheer and utter shock. Desperate need .

His mouth is urgent and insistent, and I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe. My arms wrap around his neck as he drags me against his body. One hand holds my neck and the arm around my waist tightens, like he’ll never let me go. I hope he doesn’t.

My hands move to his shoulders and then to his chest where his heart is beating so fast, I’m a little concerned. He brings his hand from my waist to my face and turns my head, finding a new angle, controlling, dominating the kiss like he’s dreamed of it for two years.

I know I have.

When we’re both out of breath, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.

“Damn it, Paige,” he whispers.

“I’m so sor—” He captures my mouth again before I can get the words out.

This whole thing is my fault. Who would have thought? Leah is going to have a field day with this. He picks me up and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, enjoying the feel of his body on mine as my heart soars.

Someone coughs. “This is a public space,” a man’s voice breaks in, bursting our little bubble. It’s almost comical how we pull apart to see a crowd of people around us, looking at us with varying degrees of amusement and disapproval. An elderly man is glaring at us from the spectator line.

I lower my legs, but Adam keeps me close to his side.

“Sorry, sir. We got caught up celebrating,” Adam says, clearing his throat.

“There are other places for that, young man,” he scolds .

“Yes, sir, my apologies.”

I giggle and he squeezes my side. The old man shoots us one last reproachful look, and when he turns away, we burst out laughing.

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

He grabs my hand, dragging me to his car. All of a sudden, the light-hearted feeling is gone and there is a deep current of tension, like closing the car door sealed out the world, leaving just the two of us. The only sound is our heavy breathing.

Adam leans forward and braces his forehead on the steering wheel.

“I can’t believe you texted the wrong number.”

“I know. It’s unbelievable.” I stare through the windshield, unable to look at him.

“Of all the thoughts I had about you not texting me, that was never something I considered.”

“Me neither.”

He jerks his head up to look at me. “You really thought I wouldn’t text you back?” He seems frustrated, causing my defences to go up.

“What was I supposed to think, Adam? You barely said five words to me when we were disqualified. I’d only known you for two days.”

“I don’t know, Paige, it felt like a hell of a lot more than two days. You should have given me the benefit of the doubt.”

“And what about you?! You never reached out to me!”

“When you didn’t text me, I assumed you didn’t want to hear from me. ”

“You assumed? Didn’t I deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

“I thought I was respecting your silence.” He stares at me for a beat before turning away, the situation settling on us.

“That’s why I didn’t send another text. I was respecting your silence.”

Adam shakes his head in disbelief. “Two years. We had two years to reach out to each other.”

“And we didn’t.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know, Adam.” My voice is small and I’m tired. “Just take me home.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Home as in Leah’s house?”

“Yes, Leah’s house.”

The drive back is silent. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at him. I’m mad at the universe. Fuck fate.

I slam the car door and fumble with the keys as I let myself into the house, sighing. The babysitter is playing on the floor with Levi. She stands and there’s an awkward strain in the air that she can clearly feel. I pay her and she hurries out of the house.

“Do you mind watching him so I can take a shower?” I ask Adam, not meeting his gaze.

“Sure. The little guy is tired, I’ll get him down for a nap.”

I nod, unable to bear the sight of Adam holding Levi at the moment. I take the stairs two at a time and lock myself in the bathroom, leaning against the door before sliding down to sit on the floor.

Stupid, stupid, stupid .

Where do we go from here? Leah will need me while she recovers, and it’s not like Adam can take a month off his job. He’s already getting calls three times a day. He needs to go back.

And I can almost guarantee that Maxim has fired me. I haven’t checked any of my emails, instead putting them in a different folder where they sit unread.

I’ll probably have to move back to Utah anyway. I can’t be away from Leah and Levi anymore. Three months was enough. I have to be with them—they’re my only family.

The shower helps as I try to clear my thoughts of Adam. But I don’t know why I even try—I can’t get him out of my head. It’s been two years, two stupid years, and I’ve never been able to get him out. His words from the hospital have been on replay for the past few weeks.

I’m Adam and I’m in love with your sister.

He said he’s in love with me. I know I’m in love with him, but how will this work? I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I need to talk to him. After my shower, I dry off and sneak into my room to get dressed. I hear the shower turn on from down the hall and peek into the nursery.

Levi is fast asleep. That was quick. Adam is a miracle worker with Levi, and I don’t blame the baby. One night in his arms was enough to give me the best sleep of my entire life.

I’m sitting on the couch folding laundry when Adam comes downstairs and sits beside me.

“I have to move back here, Adam,” I say without looking at him.

“I know.” He sounds resigned .

“You should go back to Vancouver.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I finally lift my head. He’s staring at me.

“Is that what you want?” he asks.

“No. I love Vancouver, I love my job, and I ... I don’t want you to leave. But I have to stay here.”

“You don’t though, Paige. You can come home with me. I know not right away, but when Leah heals.”

Home.

As I picture the house I was in for all of five minutes, a warmth spreads through me. I can see it—going back, moving in with him. It would be home there, but not fully. Half of my heart lives here, with Leah and Levi.

Tears well up in my eyes. I’m so torn.

He comes to kneel in front of me, bracing his hands on my knees until I look at him again.

“Think about it, okay?” he says. I nod and he squeezes my thighs.

“You have to go, don’t you?” Even though I just told him to go back, I hate the words.

His forehead meets mine and he takes a big inhale. “I do, but I don’t want to.”

I nod again, leaning into him.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into my hair.

And then he’s gone. I sit on the couch as he silently packs his things. I try to insist he take a plane home and let me drive his car back when I can, but he just shakes his head .

The door clicks shut, and he may as well have slammed it with how loud the silence is after he’s gone.

Levi starts to cry, and I wipe the tears from my face, knowing my heart is officially torn in two, with one piece here and the other getting farther and farther away with each minute.