I rubbed at my left eye while simultaneously keeping my eye on the street. “I guess I’ll go get my heated chair out of the garage and post up.”
“When’d you get a heated chair?” she asked.
I refrained from telling her last week, when I opened the large box that definitely didn’t belong to me and found the world’s greatest chair in there.
It actually worked pretty damn perfectly because I liked to sit out on my porch and watch the world go by. Sometimes I got chilly and had to wrap up in a blanket, but my backside always ended up staying cold due to the thin material of my chair.
The new chair was a papasan-type chair that had built-in heaters along the backside of it, making your tushy all nice and warm when you sat curled up in it.
Jasper had taken one look at me in the chair the first night I’d found the package and shaken his head at me in exasperation.
I did notice, however, that no other chair had been delivered to his house.
I wondered if he was getting them delivered somewhere else now…
“Got it last week,” I lied. “Off Amazon.”
“Huh,” she said. “That’s a pretty good idea. You know, it’s weird, because Jasper was just asking us last week at dinner where the best heated chairs could be bought.”
I dodged her inquiry and said, “Imagine that. Ask Cutter’s wife, Milena, what number Cutter is. Maybe Jasper will be close to that number.”
Searcy hung up with a promise to get in touch with Milena. Meanwhile, I got my new heated chair out of my bedroom where I kept it hidden in case Jasper made any unannounced visits, grabbed my biggest blanket off the recliner—one of the only pieces of furniture that I had in my living room—and headed outside.
I arrived outside just as the first of the runners that weren’t having cameras pointed in their faces started past.
I still couldn’t believe Jasper was running.
He didn’t run.
As in, ever.
I’d seen him do workouts out of his garage, and when it came time to run, he biked instead.
He was notoriously bad about skipping the run if given the option.
I’d once given him shit about it, because he’d written it on his big, fancy whiteboard and had biked instead.
My comment of “why write it down if you’re not going to do it” had gotten me a good glare.
I wanted to point out the hypocrisy of his daily choices, which was why I was parked right on the side of the road.
The snow was still coming, though in very fine flurries, and I pulled the blanket up over my head and continued to watch.
Searcy texted back with a “Milena doesn’t know their number” which left me to people watch until I saw him nearly an hour later.
I was on my fourth Christmas Tree Cake when Jasper finally came dragging ass past.
He saw me and looked instantly relieved. “Can you take my phone? It’s rubbing my leg raw.”
I caught it just as he threw it at me and said, “Sure.”
He kept shuffling past, and I sort of felt bad.
I could’ve at least offered him something to eat or drink.
I knew he was doing the damn marathon for a reason he hadn’t shared with anyone else.
Which was why I stole his mountain bike from his back porch, loaded up with some water and snacks—my last two Christmas Tree Cakes—and headed off to find him.
