He’d gone for the killing blow. The one thing in the world to resuscitate me. Aiden got me and he got me good. “I’ve got this,” I said in a muffled voice. I had to have this. There wasn’t a choice, was there?
“You’ve got this,” he repeated with more conviction. “You can do this.”
Now or never right? “I’ve got this.”
He made a light noise, a tender one. “That’s my girl.”
His girl? “I am?” I just outright asked him, hoping more than a little he wasn’t just… that was stupid, Aiden wouldn’t just say that.
“The only one,” he said it like there was no other choice in the world.
How could I not tackle universes with that kind of possessiveness from the most driven man I’d ever meet? “I might not be able to walk after I cross the finish line, but I’m going to do it. Can I call you after I’m done when I’m lying on a hospital bed?”
“You’d better.”
* * *
I have been through some shit in my life. I knew what pain was, I’d dealt with it on and off for years, sometimes more on than other years. I understood the basics of working hard and succeeding. And I liked to do my best at everything I attempted. I always had, and I wasn’t going to worry or wonder why that was.
But the marathon…
I’d prepared as much as I could to run it, considering everything. I knew my limits and my body.
But after that fifteenth mile marker…
Everything began to shut down.
I wanted to die.
Each step began to feel like hell incarnate. My shins were crying invisible tears. All my important tendons and ligaments thought they were being punished for something they’d done in another lifetime.
And I wondered why the hell I’d ever thought doing this would be my crowning achievement after my long road. Couldn’t I have just raised money for a charity or something? Was I too young to be a foster parent?
If I lived through this, I could do anything, I convinced myself. I’d do an Iron Man competition, damn it.
Okay, maybe I’d prepare for a triathlon if I finished this prison sentence.
If I finished it.
If.
If I didn’t die. Because it sure as hell felt like I was on the cusp.
I was thirsty, hungry, and every step sent a streak of pain straight up my spine and into my head since I’d begun to lose my stride and run sloppier. I might have had a migraine too, but my pain receptors were too focused on everything else to notice.
But I thought about Aiden, my brother, and Diana. I thought about Zac.
And I closed my eyes and pushed. Each mile got harder; hell, each foot became more difficult to move. I was slowing down because I was crossing into the Underworld.
But I could die after I crossed the finish line, because I hadn’t trained and busted my ass for months not to. If anything, I became more and more determined to drag myself across the finish line if it came down to it. By the time I made it to the last mile, I was more limping and lurching than even walking. My calves had locked up on me. My shin splints were going to be a serious pain in the ass for weeks to come, and my quads were shredded.
Honestly, I felt like I had the flu, Ebola, and strep throat combined.
Thinking back on it, I wasn’t sure how the hell I managed to cross the finish line. Sheer will and determination, I guess. I’d never been so proud of myself or pissed off at myself than right then.
I thought I started crying, mostly because every bone and muscle in me was crying, and because I couldn’t believe I’d actually made it.
But when I spotted that giant, brown-haired man bee-lining through people like a runaway train, I definitely started damn near bawling. People cheered me on, but I couldn’t find it in me to thank them because I wanted only one thing and it wasn’t close enough.
I wanted the big-headed mirage coming toward me, and I wanted it three hours ago. I wanted it two weeks ago.
Even from the forty feet that separated us, I could see him through my blurry eyes, frowning as he found me mixed up in the crowd. I dropped to my knees, ignoring the personnel that surrounded me, making sure I was okay. Realistically, I knew I wasn’t dying. Not really.
It was just… traumatic. And all I wanted was a hug, a shower, food, and a nap.
Mostly though, I wanted that human-sized steamroller barreling through the people who separated us with even more urgency. He was like Moses parting a sea of people. The second he stopped in front of me, I held my arms out and let him grab me under the armpits, deadlifting me before engaging those giant biceps and pulling me up to be eye to eye with him. I didn’t appreciate that incredible feat of strength because what he did afterward…
I threw my arms around his neck and he hugged me. In front of everyone, he hugged the living shit out of me as if he hadn’t walked out on me and left me alone when all I wanted was him. I wrapped my legs high above his hips like a spider monkey, not giving a crap about the wedgie my shorts were giving me, much less that there were photographers, who were supposed to be busy taking pictures of the marathon runners, circling The Wall of Winnipeg and me in our moment.
Yeah, I cried into his neck and he pressed his face against my hair. His words were low, reassuring, and whispered.
“That’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl.”
“What are you doing here?” I practically bawled into him.
“I missed you.”
“You what?”
His arms tightened around me. “I missed you very much.”
Oh hell.
“I had to come see you,” he continued on.
“You were here, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to distract you,” that low voice explained, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “I knew you were going to do it.”
His words only made me want to cry more, but not necessarily just tears of joy. “I’m dying. I need you to get me a Segway. I’m never walking ever again,” I blubbered.
“You’re not dying, and I’m not buying you that,” he said.
“Everything hurts.”
Was he laughing? “I’m sure.”
I realized I didn’t care if he was laughing at my expense. “Can you carry me?”
“You’re insulting me, Van. Of course I can.” I thought he kissed my cheek, but I couldn’t be sure because my eyes were closed and I was scared to open them and find that I was dreaming and imagining this all happening. “But will I?” he asked.
I only embraced him tighter and squeezed my exhausted thighs around him as much as I could, which probably only lasted three seconds total. It was a miracle I managed to do that, honestly.
I was pretty sure his mouth grazed my temple and I sniffled, pausing. “Are you kissing me?”
“Yes. I’m so proud of you.”
“Okay,” I whined with a sniffle. Yeah, I hugged that big neck even tighter. “Will you take me home, big guy?”
My no-nonsense, no-bullshit Aiden said it. “After you walk around for ten minutes to cool down.”
* * *
“You need to replenish your carbs,” Aiden said as he came into my room with a plate in his hand. On it was brown rice, black-eyed peas, an entire avocado, what looked like roasted and sliced squash, and perched on the edge was an entire apple. He had a glass of water in his other hand and a small bottle of coconut water tucked under his arm.
I sat up in bed with a yawn, tossing the throw I’d slept wrapped in to the side. “You’re an angel.” I still couldn’t believe he’d come back. It didn’t seem real.
He walked over to the side of the bed, dropped his hip on the edge, and passed over the glass of water first. “Did you have a good nap?”
Considering I’d gone straight from the car to the bathroom, where I’d sat in the tub cross-legged and showered, and then dragged my way back to my room and passed the hell out, I felt pretty well. The muscles in my legs were incredibly tight and even my shoulders felt extremely tense. I felt ill, but I figured that was only because I should have eaten more than the two bananas Aiden had shoved into my hand on the car ride back and the bag of mixed nuts Zac, who had been waiting on a bench after the marathon, shared with me.