Page 68 of Must Love Christmas

Suddenly his right shoulder seized up. “Aaaugh.”

Garen stopped short with him. “All right, mate?”

“Yeah.” Simon pressed his elbow against his side. “Just a cramp.”

Garen steered him out of the center of the road so others could pass. “Let’s catch our breaths, and then you’re gonnae finish this race.” He pulled the bottle of water from the wheelchair’s holder, took a sip, then handed it to Simon. “My calves are screaming, so I’m glad of this wee pause.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Simon pushed the lip of the bottle through the opening in his beard, which had shifted to one side. “You were right,” he said after the first sip. “We should’ve kept to the plan.”

“Whoa, wait.” Garen took a step back. “I was not only right, but now I’m the planner instead of the improviser?” He looked around. “This’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” The yanking pain in Simon’s arm began to ease. He slowly straightened it.

“Better?” Garen asked.

“Yep.” Simon rang his wheelchair’s jingle bells. “Let’s rock.”

He pushed more slowly this time, pacing himself and keeping his shoulders loose. The finish line appeared ahead, a gray arch adorned with the Santa Dash logo. The racers around him were pumping their fists and prancing their way home, high-fiving the spectators, but he kept his eyes forward, trying to block it all out.

Alas, his usual method of retreating into a hyperfocused shell wasn’t working. His strength waned, and each inhalation was more of a struggle than the last.

So he turned his attention to the crowd, and to Garen trotting beside him, waving his hat and shouting encouragement with his own heaving breath. Simon kept going, fueled by the energy from voices of strangers and friends alike.

He yanked down his beard and smiled at them all, breaking his rhythm long enough for a wave. The cheers grew louder. He saw Gillian’s daughter, Willow, jumping up and down, her red-blond ponytail cascading over her shoulders. “Go, Simon, go!” she squealed. “You can doooooo iiiiiiiiit!”

She was right. He could do it. He could finish this race, recover from this illness, become stronger than ever before—at least in all the important ways.

He just couldn’t do it alone.

Chapter 15

“How canmy legs be so tired?” Simon asked as Garen helped him out of his wheelchair—which Garen had renamed the “WHEEEE!-chair” after watching Simon sail down Finnieston Street. “I’ve been sitting all day.”

“Every part of me is tired, down to my wee toes.” Garen realized that sounded like a complaint. “Totally worth it, though.” He steadied his friend until he was stably perched on the edge of his bed. “Right?”

“Totally.” Simon undid the laces of his trainers, then toed them off, slightly fumbling with the task but not asking for help. “Can you put these by the front door?”

“Of course.” Garen took the shoes down the hall to their designated spot beneath the coat pegs, then slipped off his own trainers beside them. When he returned to Simon’s room, his friend had kicked off the baggy red trousers he’d worn over his running tights and was now hanging his race medal on the bedpost. The faerie lights gleamed upon its shiny metallic face.

“Ah, this.” Simon slid the wide black belt from his Santa suit, dropped it on the floor, then kicked it under the bed in an uncharacteristically haphazard move. Then he tipped over to crash onto his pillow, pulling the covers up over his waist.

“You’re sleeping in the Santa coat?” Garen asked.

“Just a nap.”

“Think I’ll have a nap as well.” Garen rolled the wheelchair into the corner and folded it up, then set Simon’s walking frame near the bed so he could use it when he woke. “Need anything else?”

Simon’s eyelids fluttered. “I need you to…” His voice trailed off, slurring the final word.

Garen took a step toward him. “To what?”

“To stay.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“No.” Simon tugged the duvet up over his shoulder. “I just like being with you, and I don’t want it to stop.”

Garen stared at him for the briefest of moments. “Okay!” He yanked off Santa suit—everything but the hat—his mind surfing waves of anticipation and confusion. He’d wanted to lie beside Simon again for so long, he almost couldn’t believe the invitation was real. In some ways, though, this seemed like the obvious next step in their journey.

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