Page 19 of Tumbling the Cornerback

“It’s eight in the morning. And I’m not laughing at you. I’m just smiling.”

Heloise pushed her bright pink bangs back out of her face and glared. “Just for the record, I told Greggy if I’m not home by noon, he should avenge me.”

“Greggy is five.” And that time, I did laugh, stretching my quads on my front steps as she took a rather savage slurp from her water bottle. “Don’t get all sloshy. You’ll puke.”

“Hmph. How far are we going today?”

“Same as last time.” Every weekend, we eked out a few hours to run together in Zilker Park, early in the day as we could manage to avoid the worst of the heat. Heloise grumbled, but she never turned me down when I called. It was one of the few times we could visit without worrying about Greggy or the bookstore or my training schedule or anything other than how much distance we were covering and whatever silly challenged we’d set for one another.

Last week, I had to run backwards for a quarter mile, which, hello, corner back. That’s easy as closing my eyes. Running backwards is kind of half of my job. She didn’t appreciate my return challenge of run without complaining for a quarter mile.

“What’s it gonna be today?” I asked as we set out on a slow jog. We’d take it easy until we got to the park, then fall in with the other runners out doing the same thing—escaping the daily grind for a bit, getting some fresh air, and, for folks like Heloise, suffering for their health. “I have to skip for a mile? Crabwalk? Wear a sports bra?”

She huffed, shaking her head. “Today’s challenge is telling me what has you looking so dorky.”

“I can’t help it. That’s just my face.”

“I didn’t say ugly. And whoever it is, when do I get to meet him?” When I started to deny it, she shushed me, jabbing one finger at me to poke my shoulder. “Don’t even try to deny it. Whoever texted you a few minutes ago at oh-god-o’clock on Saturday morning had you grinning ear to ear. Unless you’re suddenly that excited to hear from Phil, it has to be a new lov-ah.”

I cringed, and she laughed. “Never say that word. Ever. Especially not like that.”

“Why? Don’t you want to talk about your lov-ah?”

We weren’t at the park yet, but I put on a burst of speed, leaving her shouting rude things about my parentage until I slowed enough for her to catch up. “We have the same parents,” I reminded her as she glared, huffing. “So that makes you a?—”

“We found you in the cat’s litter box,” she grumbled. “Shut up.”

I laughed as we hit the park’s running trail, an easy path that ran for about a mile. On my own, I’d go around five or six times, a nice warm up for my day ahead, but with Heloise it was only about once, maybe twice, at a leisurely pace. It was an easy day for me but one I sorely needed. After our parents moved to Dallas for Dad’s job when I was in college, Heloise and I were on our own for the first time ever. We were both technically adults, but that first step out of the nest is always a doozy. And when she opened her bookstore and scouts started noticing me, we leaned on one another more than ever, finding a bond as adults we didn’t really have as kids.

“Because you were a little shit,” Heloise panted when I mentioned how different our relationship was now.

“I’m a delight,” I sniffed. “And I wasn’t a shit. You just thought you were too cool to have a little brother.”

“I was. And I am. But needs musts. So, are you gonna tell me about this new...person?” she teased. “Are they another player? Are they on the same team? Oh my god, is it Anders? Tell me it’s Anders. He’s so hot!”

“Er, no, ew. And Anders is single if you want me to put in a word.”

She made a face. “No thanks. I’m not looking for anything more than a few hours at a time. If even that.”

“Also, ew.”

Heloise bumped me as we moved around a couple pushing a stroller, moving at just above a speed walking pace. “It’s not ew. It’s normal for a lot of folks with a sex drive, thank you very much.”

“Who watches Greggy while you’re out with these guys? Becky? Samantha?”

“Nosy,” she retorted. “Jenny from next door. Greggy and her kid Micah are besties. And you can’t distract me, Coop. Who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy.” A tingle of guilt wiggled through all those lovely endorphins the run was stirring up. “Okay, not... yet. Maybe. I don’t know. I want there to be.”

“Oh my god.” Jaw dropping, she stopped.

I turned to jog backwards a few feet, motioning for her to move. “Don’t stop like that. Ouisie. That’s how you get cramps.”

She put on a surprising burst of speed to catch up with me. “I get cramps from my brother making bad choices. Like hooking up with Lucas Ortiz!”

“Shhhhh! Jesus, Ouisie! Just take out a freaking billboard on MoPac, why don’t you? And we didn’t hook up.”

She huffed, either annoyance or the run was catching up with her. I wasn’t sure which. “Spill, Coop. You’ve had the hots for this guy for years. How did it happen? When? What does it mean? Oh my god, you can’t tell anyone! It’s forbidden!”

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