Page 75 of See You at the Finish Line

“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. Iwant 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. Butthe 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.”

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