Page 7 of Past Tents

But I didn’t want a wife. I wanted Ally.

For years, I’d told myself that it was better never to start anything with Ally because I couldn’t risk how I’d feel if a relationship with her ended. I couldn’t risk falling back into the abyss. Better to admire her from afar and never pause too long when she was nearby.

Grabbing on to a rail by the bleachers, I held my foot and stretched my quad. I hoped that signaling the end of my little run would cue the end of the conversation. But Jefferson never could take a hint.

“Maybe one of these days it’ll be the right one. Couldn’t hurt to keep an open mind.”

I wasn’t about to tell him the only person who fit that bill was his sister. And I didn’t want to go into why I’d never take a chance on letting something happen.

But I imagined that on some level he knew.

“You doing okay?” The hint of quiet gravity in his voice let me know he was asking about my mental health.

“I’m fine. Thanks. The meds are working. All good.”

“So why not consider the possibility this niece of Blithe’s friend could be smokin’ hot?”

“Just not interested.”

I jogged in place. I knew he was antsy to keep running, so I hoped he’d eventually give up on this discussion so we could get moving. “Asking one more time, are you okay?”

“Yup. It’s under control.”

“Okay, good. Just checking.”

Sometimes it annoyed me that he knew. It gave him license to ask about my feelings and that bugged the crap out of me.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks. It’s not about that.”

It was always about that. A little bit.

“Just go on the date,” Jefferson said, starting to jog away from me, facing backward so he could watch me grimace at the suggestion. “Do it for me. I want to hear stories. You always have the best stories,” he said, retreating and nearly tripping over his own feet. If he did, he’d deserve it.

“Look where you’re going!” I urged.

Turning himself around, he picked up the pace again and I looked down at my watch. Sure enough, we’d hit a mile in undersix minutes. I hadn’t done that anytime recently, and judging by the rush of endorphins I felt, my body approved.

I contemplated whether I could take another few laps around the track before my students sorted themselves out and made it to practice.

Almost on cue, the first group of runners ducked under the bleachers and stepped out onto the track. Moving slowly, they were doing more talking than warming up, even though I’d tried to drill them with my ethos—the workout starts the minute your feet hit the track. It was a mental thing, a changeover from whatever was happening in life beforehand.

I waved the kids over. “This is track practice. How about a little running around the track?” Most of them ignored me and continued walking. Only one or two grudgingly picked up their pace to a jog and headed my way.

“Fine, fine. Walk. That’ll earn you an extra lap during cooldown.”

That did it. All the kids broke into a jog. The ones just entering the track did the same.

Good. I needed them to make their way over to me as quickly as possible so I could focus on them. And stop thinking about how to get out of a blind date with Blithe Tanner’s friend’s niece.

CHAPTER

THREE

ALLY

Icould hear Clay shouting at his runners from halfway across the grass field that separated the school building from the stadium. The gruff rumble of his voice sent a blissful shiver across the surface of my skin—I wished it didn’t, but it did. Hard to fight biology.

I could still remember the day when I noticed that puberty had dressed up my older brother’s best friend in a full bodysuit that screamedman. I swear, puberty hit him on a Friday night, and he showed up at our house on a Saturday, the only threadbare shirt that still fit him clinging to his torso. His legs had grown several inches longer, accompanied by muscles that filled out his jeans and left no question of their strength.

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