My sister is swamped with work during the holidays just like I am. The three of us always do something in mid-January when things settle down. We’re going to have to make some adjustments this year, though, because the Thunderhawks might sneak in as a Wild Card team.
I’ll FaceTime them on Christmas Day. We usually all bake something while we talk to each other, so it never really feels like we’re separated for the holidays.
What about you? Do you talk to your mom?
Reid
Yeah. I know she wants me back in Ohio for the holidays, but she also understands why I don’t go. She came and visited a few years ago, and I think I’ll fly her out again next year.
It’s okay, though. I get to spend time with my favorite people, and all is right in the world.
Me
I’m excited to be included.
Reid
I’m glad you’ll be there.
I loveearly winter in the mid-Atlantic.
The air is crisp. There’s a coolness in the breeze. Everything is lighter and brighter, the slog of summer and fall long gone.
I smile when I step onto the pavement outside my apartment and head for the Potomac, nothing but still silence and a beautiful sunrise in front of me.
These mornings of solitude are my favorite time of day.
I’ve always been happiest surrounded by friends and family and coworkers. At peace in big groups, with loud laughter and lively conversation, but lately I’ve been loving these stolen moments too.
I can be alone with my thoughts, away from the field. Away from my phone and focusing on nothing except the miles ahead of me.
I inhale and savor the first glimpse of the pinks and oranges and yellows signaling the start of what’s going to be a beautiful day. I wave hello to the other runners I pass. I dodge a cyclist who apologizes for cutting a corner too close and almost crashing into me.
There’s a pep in my step as I make my way onto a straightaway. I take a deep breath and let my legs get loose, settling into a rhythm that’s just past comfortable. Just difficult enough where my lungs feel like they’re putting in work and my heart starts to beat a little faster.
I tip my chin up to the sky and smile at the patches of clouds. It’s almost like I can hear my dad up there, calling out to me, reminding me what a gift it is to be alive.
Sweat beads on my forehead and I push harder. I run faster, the last few weeks of work and life andReidfading away until there’s nothing but peace.
The quiet breaks with a roll of tires and the hum of an engine. I glance over my shoulder and spot a silver truck forty yards away. It’s moving slowly, almostlike it’s creeping down the street, and I frown.
I cruise another half mile and check behind me again. The car is still there, and closer than it was before.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Panic claws at my throat, and I try to take a deep breath.
It could be nothing, I tell myself, shoving aside the worst-case scenarios racing through my head.
It could also be something.
I hang a left down a narrow street, heading away from the river. I want to be visible to other people and I want to see if they’ll follow me. When they drive up the wrong way on a one-way road, I know I have to make a split-second decision.
I fumble with my phone tucked in my sports bra. I pull it out and call the number at the top of my text message threads without a second thought.
It rings twice before I hear Reid’s voice.
“Hello?” he answers, sounding like he’s tucked away in a dream. Buried under a pile of blankets and dead to the world for another few hours. “Ave?”
“Hi.” My heart hammers in my chest like a wild drumbeat. “I need your help.”
