Page 80 of See You at the Finish Line

“Perfect, look at you, taking directions so well,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

That earns me a middle finger, and I’ve never felt so honoured to be on the receiving end of that gesture.

“Alright, lastly, I want you to alternate tapping your hands on your knees. Left, right, left, right. Focus on that.”

She does the exercise, and I can feel the tension seeping out of her body with each tap, like she’s done this before. I let her settle into that movement, hoping the worst of her panic has eased, hoping I was able to help when I feel so utterly useless right now.

We make it to her apartment complex without any more attacks and get lucky when someone exits the building so we can get in. She’s able to walk, but I keep my arm around her in case she collapses again. Her body vibrates with emotion, her hands shaking as she inserts the key into her door.

Q whines from the crate in the living room and that seems to snap Paige out of her trance.

“Unlock the crate. I’m going to get my phone,” she says, voice weak. She disappears into her room, coming out a moment later, her phone slowly dragging to life.

“I keep it turned off while I’m running so I can’t be interrupted,” she whispers. It takes a second after it wakes up to start pinging with notifications. Twenty missed calls and a series of texts blink through and she stares at the screen, not opening them.

“Do you want me to—”

She hands me the phone and I openher voicemail.

“5478,” she says before I can ask her for the code. I plunk it in and put the message on speaker.

A male voice with a slight accent booms through the speaker.

“Paige, I hope you get this soon. You need to come as quickly as you can. Leah was in a car accident,” the voice says without emotion. No other information. The tempo of Paige’s breathing increases as we listen to the next one.

“She got hit by a drunk driver. She and Levi are in an ambulance, I’m on the way to the hospital in Salt Lake.” Paige collapses on the couch, her legs unable to hold her up any longer.

My stomach drops with the news. I sit beside her, the couch dipping with my weight, and pull her close. She leans in and lightly rests her arm on mine like she needs to feel grounded.

The next message plays. “Levi is okay, just a little bumped around. His car seat took the brunt of it.” My stomach bottoms out. Levi must be Leah’s baby, Paige’s nephew.

“Why aren’t you picking up your phone? It’s been going straight to voicemail for two hours!”

“Leah’s going into surgery. Get here now.”

A sob rips from Paige’s throat, and I move to kneel in front of her, letting her collapse into me as she falls forward.

That was the last message.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll get you home. It’s going to be okay.”

At the word home, she snaps her head up and stands, her eyes frantic.

“I have to get home,” she says.

“Then let’s get you home. Pack and change, and I’ll look up flights.”

She nods and races to her room, phone already on her ear as she tries to get more information. Q follows so closely I’m surprised they don’t trip over each other.

I hear the frantic scrape of drawers opening and closing and some minor cursing as things crash around. I assume she’s bumping into everything in her hurry, but I can’t find it amusing at the moment.

I search for flights on my phone, scrolling to find the fastest option.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

The only flight available today doesn’t leave until 8:55 p.m., but with the layover it doesn’t arrive until noon the next day. Even with the other flights, the earliest we can get there is four in the morning, tomorrow.

Paige whirls out of her room in sweatpants and a tank top, bag slung over her shoulder. Her tattoo peeks out from behind her strap and she rubs it subconsciously.

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