Page 6 of Chasing Wild Heart

When my high school coach started recommending colleges with good running programs my junior year, I knew running wasn’t my life. I had no desire to compete in the Olympics or other prestigious races. I had known this deep down, but never said those words out loud. To myself. Or even other people. Like coach. My parents. My brothers.

Maybe because my family unconditionally supported my insane drive to win and desire to have my name etched in state history, they figured I had my sights on something bigger after high school. So their surprise and initial resistance was understandable when I shared running competitively wasn’t part of my future.

“Look,” I sigh, feeling a speckle of guilt when his intense gaze falls to his feet. “I’ve been through this argument too many times, and you’re not the only one who’s disappointed in my decision. But that’s somethingyouneed to deal with because this is my choice. My life.”

With exhaustion threatening to dull my sharp tongue and Dash’s thoughtful silence, I reach for my duffel because I’m more than ready to crash in the back row with Daphne or one of the other girls.

More than anything, I’m mad at myself for letting him get to me during the stupid race. Pushing myself harder to avoid him at the second checkpoint had been the ultimate“fuck you, Dash, you’re not the boss of me.”But now, my tired body complains about the extra effort and my bratty behavior.

“Yeah, I don’t buy it.”

My head whips around in his direction to find his eyes dancing and his lips pulled into a smirk. “Buy what? There’s nothing to buy.”

“I don’t buy that you just want to run,” Dash explains smoothly, pulling his arms off his knees. “I think you want to win.”

I roll my eyes so hard that I feel a headache forming.Will this idiot ever learn?

“And you’re an idiot,” I snap, slinging the duffel strap over my shoulder.

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he replies in a playful sing-song tone, shuffling his legs away from the aisle and leaning back in his seat. “You just need a new reason.”

“Or maybe,” I growl, standing up with a hard glare, “you don’t want to admit you’re wrong and you’re a shit coach.”

What did he expect when he accepted to coach the women’s team? That we would eagerly follow his every word any time he flashed a beautiful smile and saucy wink? That we would be so incredibly humbled the great Dashwood Black wanted to coach us? Arrogant asshole, if he really thinks that highly of himself.

His broad smile falters for a nanosecond before shining brighter. “Nah, I know I’m right.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, stalking toward the last row, where Daphne waits with a gigantic grin.

What the hell just happened?

For two beautiful – glorious, really – years, I led a perfectly normal college life. New state. New friends. New team. I loved every second even when I cried dumb tears over Hayden Collins who broke my heart during my freshman year.

Even without the pressure to win, I still wanted to run. I needed the time and space where nothing could touch me once my feet hit the ground. Anything of importance or real simply faded.

Except left to my own devices, I’d rather burrow myself deeper in the comfort of my bed than rise at the butt crack of dawn to run. Sadly, I need discipline and a schedule.

The head coach, Justine, completely understood my intentions, considering the rest of the team had the same goal. To be surrounded by others with the same mentality made the past seasons unexpectedly fun.

My life was beautifully boring until I heard the whispers of a new assistant coach a month before official practice started. With the men’s team on track for an undefeated season and division championship, Justine believed the guys needed undivided attention from her and the assistant coach, Henry. So, the search for a second assistant coach began.

None of that bothered me until Dash’s name was dropped as the frontrunner for the position. Even then, what was the likelihood of him knowing anything about me? High. The chance was super duper high.

He probably knew before Justine’s individual introductions. I watched recognition and then confusion flash through his eyes, but he said nothing.

My attitude with him began when I approached him to share my reason for being on the team. Before I could say a word, he sneered and stated icily, “I know who you are, and I don’t care about what you want. I won't treat you any different from the rest of the team.”

Except he’s a big fat liar.

A big fat liar who might be ateenybit right about me needing a new reason to win.

An exhilaration hit me hard today when I caught up with Tabby and finished slightly ahead of her. The adrenaline rush I hadn’t felt in a long time was like seeing an old friend. Not realizing how much you miss something until it returns.

But there’s no fucking way I’m telling Dash that.

“Youchasedgreatness,Dashwood.And where exactly did that land you?”

It landed me here. In a city about ninety minutes away from Chicago. Because I’m lost. And bored. And tired.

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